Page 76 of Penalty Box

I jammed the wrench back into place, twisting until my arm ached.

“Come on. Just give me one win today.”

A final groan of metal and the leak stopped. I sat back on my heels, legs sore from crouching, and wiped my forehead with the bottom of my t-shirt. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I scrambled for it, already half-expecting to see Mason’s name.

He was probably following up on his last text that I’d been ignoring.

But it wasn’t him.

The notification was for an email from school, and the subject line made my stomach drop.

Attendance Concern - W. McAvoy copied

No. No, no, no.

I opened it, hoping it wasn’t what I thought. But it totally was. My professor was checking in because I’d missed my last three classes with her. She wanted to know if I was okay, and as per protocol, she’d cc’d my dad. It ended with a perfunctoryLet us know how we can best support you.

My chest tightened, the air squeezed right out of me. Three classes. Three. I hadn’t realized it had gotten that bad. I’d promised him. Sworn up and down that school would come first. It was the only thing he asked of me.

I was still staring at the screen when my phone rang.

Dad.

Instead of answering, I froze, the knot of guilt twisting in my gut. I stared at my phone like the spineless coward I was, until his name stopped lighting it up and the screen went dark.

A second later, it rang again. He wasn’t going to let this go.

“Hi, Dad.” I was barely holding it together, my voice brittle with panic.

All this did was give him more ammunition in the face of me seeing Mason. If he knew about that, which I strongly suspected was the case.

“My office,” he said, and hung up before I could say anything else.

I cursed under my breath and grabbed my tool bag, shoving everything inside without much care. The zipper caught on the edge of the canvas and I tugged a little too hard. The whole thing snapped off, almost spilling all the contents on the floor. I didn’t care.

The walk down the hallway was longer than it needed to be. I had too much time to think of several worst case scenarios forthis meeting. My footsteps echoed, and I suddenly hated how empty the place was. The only person I passed was Hunter, just showered, gym bag slung over his shoulder.

He slowed when he saw me.

“If you’re going back there… don’t,” he warned.

“Is Coach in?” I asked, trying too hard to sound like it didn’t matter either way.

Hunter gave me a look that said he knew exactly what kind of storm I was walking into.

“Yeah, but like I said, don’t go there. The mood he’s in, he’ll probably make you do suicide laps ‘til you puke.”

I gave a weak laugh and kept walking. My dad’s office door was closed, which made it worse. My hand hovered for a second, then I knocked.

“Come in,” came the clipped response.

I opened the door, ready to magically weave my way out of the email aftermath. But I stopped short the second my foot crossed the threshold.

Mason was there.

He stood in the corner, hands in his pockets. The world’s tension pulled stiff in his shoulders, and he would’ve seen the same in mine if he actually raised his eyes from the floor.

A new bolt of nerves shot through me.