Page 43 of Crossing the Line

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Oh crap. I sat up. The world spun as I gained my bearings. I was lying on the football field. It was raining. Some of the grass was poking through the thin layer of snow. I patted my chest. Thankfully I had my winter coat on and a stocking cap, because otherwise I was just wearing jeans and a pair of sneakers.

I swallowed hard and smacked my lips, searching for some moisture to coat my dry throat. The rancid taste of bile stung my taste buds. The empty bleachers were my witness as I rolled over onto my hands and knees to push myself up to my feet. The world spun more, and I had to stay on all fours to catch my breath.

An empty bottle of Jack Daniels came into view. I’d been sleeping on top of it and didn’t even notice. I shoved it into the inside pocket of my jacket. If I got caught with a bottle of liquor, empty or not, in the middle of the football field, I’d get a hell of a lot more than community service hours.

My stomach clenched, and I thought for a second that I was going to puke. I took a few deep breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth until my stomach calmed down.

How did I end up here? I—

Pax.

I closed my eyes and let my chin fall to my chest. After I’d stormed away from the Taste of Rome yesterday, I’d met up with Pax…

Crap.

This is not good.

I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed my temples, trying to ignore the massive headache that felt like splinters being shoved down behind my eyes.

I’d screwed up. Again. And by the looks of it, it was a major screwup.

Yesterday was such a mess. I’d been so pissed off. Everyone was pressuring me to go out for track. Then Grace. She verbally slapped me across the face, calling me out on my bullshit, and then she told me about her brother.

I’d wanted an escape.

To not have to feel anything.

So I’d called Pax.

“Shit.” I lost my balance and fell back onto my butt, pulled my legs close, then rested my elbows on my knees. I let my head fall into my palms and closed my eyes. Images of last night’s party by the bonfire flashed in my mind on rapid-fire. Beer. Laughing. Dancing. Puking.

My temples pulsed as the images ransacked my mind. The scary thing…I didn’t remember how I got here. It was all black. And the images flashing before my mind’s eye weren’t in order. Some of the images of Grace were in there, and she wasn’t at the party last night. At least, I didn’t think she had been there.

I scrubbed my scalp with my hands and drew in a deep breath. Patting down my pockets for my phone came up empty. God only knew where that thing was.

I eventually got to my feet and scoured the ground surrounding me. There it was. Face down about five feet from me in a small pile of snow. Great. It was waterlogged and probably broken.

Something brown in the corner of my eye caught my attention. A paper bag. The kind you’d get from the liquor store. I snatched it from the ground and shoved it into my pocket along with the bottle. Now that the fog of waking up in a strange place wore off, I realized there was a Taco Bell bag that had been ripped open and its contents had been strewn across the ground.

Empty quesadilla wrappers and half-eaten burritos were ground into the turf.

“What the hell?” I didn’t remember stopping for food last night.

I checked my phone, and miraculously, it was still working.

I had twenty unread text messages. I tapped the app open as I made my way across the slippery ground. The rain pounded at my skull like a jackhammer.

MOM: It’s okay, Ryan. We can talk this through. Just come home.

ME: No. I’m staying at Pax’s.

The memory of me yelling at Mom before I’d left for the track cleanup kicked me in the head. Tears stung my eyes. I’d always had a great relationship with my mom, but now, after finding out all of the lies that she and Dad had been telling me, nothing felt right. Everything was broken. Everything was hard. I felt heavy. Lost. Hockey had been everything to me. I’d never questioned where I would go to college, what I’d be doing the next four or five years. Life was great. High school was easy. I was popular, had rich parents. Nothing was hard for me.

But now…

I scrubbed my face, finally letting the tears that’d been pent up in there for nearly a month now flow freely, like the rain cascading over me. I squeezed my phone and faced skyward. I let out a bellow from the depths of my chest and stomach. My throat burned. My heart hammered. My head pulsed.

I punched the air and screamed again. “It’s not fair.”


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