"Are you sure?" Constance asked. "Because ... it's just I thought you guys had kind of a vibe before and I just thought... I don't know. I thought it was weird."
A hot rush of anger zipped through me, severing my nerves.
"You thought it was weird," I said, my fingers curling tightly.
"Because, you know, he was Thomas's roommate and everything," Constance pointed out as we found ourselves on the second floor.
Like I needed that fact to be pointed out.
"Well, there was no vibe, okay?" I snapped. "Maybe you should readjust your radar."
Constance's chin drooped, like I'd just snatched away her
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lollipop and tossed it in a gutter. I turned on my heel and walked ahead of her. Okay, so maybe I should have bitten my tongue again, but a girl could only take so much. Could I do nothing around here anymore without being questioned? Judged? Here everyone was telling me to get on with my life, but whatever I did, it seemed there were a thousand people watching me and waiting to comment. It was so unfair. I wished everyone would just leave me alone. Didn't they have better things to think about?
I passed by a couple of whispering junior girls and stared stonily ahead, my fingers clenching ever tighter at my sides. I couldn't take being under the microscope for much longer. Something was going to have to give, before I snapped.
90
ME AND MY ANGER
"Brennan! What the hell are you doing? Pass the ball! Brennan!"
I ignored Coach Lisick and streaked down the field, dodging the defenders and faking out one of my teammates so badly she fell on her face. Not my problem. If you can't keep up, don't bother trying. The ball was mine.
My body was hot with exertion, but the sweat on my neck and under my hair was cold. It tightened my scalp as a stiff wind blew, but it only made me run harder. With each step I was more in control. Out here no one could stare at me or whisper or point. Out here there was no one but me. Me and my anger. And only one of us was going home alive.
I saw Maddy Sullivan coming at me from the corner of my eye, the red mesh vest she wore over her practice jersey a mere streak. At six feet tall and with one hundred seventy-five pounds of muscle, Maddy could have been a linebacker--or even a pro wrestler, with her rep for playing dirty. I knew she was out for blood just then. My blood.
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"Bring it on, bitch," I said through my teeth. I had to take this out on someone. She was as good a candidate as any.
Maddy slammed right into me full force, but I was ready for her. She might as well have hit a brick wall. She stumbled backward, surprised, then came at me again, but this time she did something she had never done before. She went for the ball instead of the body. And she got it. Easily, since I'd been expecting a tackle and had instead gotten a good soccer maneuver.
"Shit," I said under my breath, turning on my heel to chase the ball back the other way. That was my ball. Mine. No one was taking it away from me.
Maddy passed to Bernadette Baskin, who avoided Noelle by passing upfield to Karyn Morris.
"Do I have to do everything around here?" I shouted at the top of my lungs. "They're eating us alive!"
I tore across the field. That was my ball. Mine. I was getting it back. No matter what.
Karyn made the mistake of pausing to assess the defense. I raced up behind her at full speed, turning on the sprint the closer I got. She was just reaching her foot back to pass when I slammed into her from behind, shoving her over with both arms. Karyn let out a surprised sound just before her face slammed into the dirt.
"I'll be taking that," I said, kicking the ball away.
The whistle blew. It shrieked, actually.
"What the hell was that?" Maddy shouted, coming at me with her unusual abundance of testosterone.
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"What? That was a clean play!" I shouted back.
"Like hell it was!" Maddy snapped.