Page 15

Out of Hiding

May

M y mom charges into the PT room like a hurricane of a woman, bringing her very full clear stadium bag and my dad with her. She swoops in so abruptly that my team, all of whom have now gathered alongside a ridiculously awkward Colt and a quite relieved Coach, have little time to react to her arrival.

‘It’s just a concussion …’ I’m literally in the midst of assuring my teammates when she gasps loudly at the sight of me.

‘May!’ Clucking her tongue, Mumma rushes up to me and tilts my head every which way, groaning unhappily when her fingers run over the bump. ‘May, what’s this? Why don’t y’all wear helmets?’

‘We’re not supposed to whack each other over the head,’ I grumble. ‘The other girl got a massive penalty for it.’

‘But our girl is the one we care about.’ She sighs, clearly unhappy. Mumma always thought I’d follow her into dance, her high-school sport, and I think she was glad that I first befriended Jordan, who’d been a dancer from a young age, hoping some of it would rub off on me. Instead, we had only strengthened our allegiance to lacrosse, and although I know Mumma is proud of me, I’m sure every game we play creates a marked increase in her blood pressure.

Papa clears his throat. ‘We’re just glad you’re okay, mija . You gave us a scare. And we’re glad we could count on Colt to be there for you.’ He throws a proud-dad smile Colt’s way – interesting. As concussed as I am, I recall immediately that even our parents are living in the lie. The stern nudge that Jordan gives Colt doesn’t escape my notice.

‘Absolutely – um, absolutely,’ Colt finally replies, returning the proud-dad smile with a wobbly little one of his own. ‘Nowhere I’d rather be than by her side. I’m as relieved as you are.’

Oh, so that’s easy for him to say.

I beam up at Colt, the most plastic grin I have. ‘It’s once in a blue moon that you’ll get a boyfriend who’ll run onto the field for you.’ Then I turn to my mom, and with a raise of an eyebrow, ‘See? I’m all good. Colt will be the first one on the scene if anything happens.’

Mumma doesn’t look persuaded, but nods anyway. She exchanges a look with Papa that I don’t particularly love, and as much as I can feel her next words coming, they still strike terror straight through my chest when she speaks.

‘Colt, we really do appreciate you. I’m not sure what we can say or do to thank you. Especially considering you’ve been so close with May so early on. It’s so wonderful to see things are finally … coming together,’ she tells him. ‘And really, do drop by our home when you get the chance. We’d love to have you for dinner sometime. Just as a thank you.’

I am mortified on the inside.

As if it wasn’t enough to let myself absorb the blowback from the concussion, the games I’ll miss, and the way Athletics is going to look at me after this, my parents are being beyond cordial. They’re treating this guy like family .

I try my best to channel ‘confused concussed woman’ while continuing to plaster the empty smile on my face.

Colt, for all his bluster, looks like he’s holding back panic when his eyes dart from me to my mom to my dad, the both of them, at least, waiting expectantly. ‘Well – I couldn’t impose—’

‘You wouldn’t,’ Papa puts in with a good-natured chuckle. ‘We’ve already known you for years, son, it’s no skin off our back to feed you a meal. It’s the least we could do. Clearly you’re beyond good for our daughter. It’d be our pleasure. No rush at all. We’d just love to have you come home. Back to where it all started, one might say.’

Damn it, Papa .

After all that, there’s no way Colt can say no. Shit. He blinks a couple times as if digesting everything he’s heard. Finally, he stutters out, ‘Oh, sure.’

‘Beautiful.’ Mumma finally loosens up a bit (the only positive to come out of this situation), giving Colt a relieved smile. ‘We really do appreciate you, Colt. Tell your mom and dad we’re so excited to have you back in town. They’ve raised you well.’

The irony . I could laugh the bitterest of laughs at everything she says, but I hold it in till the hugs are exchanged all around and my parents leave us to excited team chatter about boyfriends and dinners and cooing over Colt’s gesture. ‘Don’t be a stranger, son,’ Papa even goes so far as to add. ‘Come round when you get the chance, alright?’ Son? He’s gone all buddy-buddy.

I get the point. It was a kind gesture, Colt’s heroic run. But it was for the sake of the game plan. There’s nothing to coo about. Is there?

Coach Dillon hops up onto the PT table next to me, and instead of the same warm smile I’ve been seeing for the last hour from spectators and paramedics alike, she purses her lips, her eyebrows rising. ‘You know something, May?’

‘Know what?’

‘Well.’ She shrugs. ‘How do you feel about what Colt did today?’

I go slightly slack-jawed. ‘Coach. You know what’s going on.’

‘Oh, honey, it looks like you don’t.’ She cuts her eyes towards Colt, who’s going all red and gooey amid a conversation with our defenders on the other side of the long room. ‘That boy could’ve taken a pretty severe penalty for running after you like that. You remember what the penalty is for being on the field, don’t you?’

Maybe, but I try not to let on. Instead, I swallow hard. Guilt buries itself in a pit in my stomach that I refuse to acknowledge.

‘Could’ve been fined thousands. Barred from our next few games. Even a subsequent penalty waiting for him in the MLL, sitting out a few games. But when he saw you out there …’ Coach shakes her head knowingly. ‘He didn’t do that to put on a show. I couldn’t hold him back. Didn’t listen to a word I said about the penalties. Just … ran.’

Coach waits for some kind of response, and I really can’t find one.

I scratch my nose, my biggest tell, a crack in my perfect poker face, and she laughs aloud. ‘Take a good look, May. You can’t hide from it for ever.’