Page 145 of The Locker Room

he"d ducked, and now he glared at Xander through narrowed eyes.

“Karcek!”

“I"m "bout done with practice, Coach,” Xander said numbly. “I"ll

get my foot wrapped and finish up at home.”

With that he walked past the guy, and wondered if anyone else

could guess that he had just barely missed committing assault.

The court doc wrapped his bruised, tender toe, and then secured it

to the rest of Xander"s long toes, and pressed some pain relievers in his

hand.

“You drive today, Xander?”

He barely remembered to nod. Chris usually drove, but yeah,

Xander had dusted off the big black SUV (Chris had gotten it as a

birthday present and had it “pimped out” with gold rims and flashy

The Locker Room 125

fixtures, just because he knew it screamed the things that Xander was

uncomfortable with) and driven himself.

“Yeah,” he whispered, tucking the painkillers into his gym bag.

They were more powerful than the ibuprofen, but a lot harder on the

stomach, and Xander"s stomach was already starting to churn this

morning. Pancakes and strawberries were not sitting well, and Xander

wondered sourly if it wasn"t time to eat oatmeal or granola or something,

since he was being so damned grown-up about all this bullshit.

“Don"t take those when you"re driving, okay?”

Xander shrugged. “Don"t like taking them in general,” he said. He

never had. Ibuprofen was about as hard as he got.

Doc Malloy grunted. “That"s going to hurt a lot, Xan—and you"ve

got a game tomorrow. I"d go home and put that up if I were you.”

Xander grunted. “Sure, right.”

“Yeah, well, before you go out and party all night, at least let me

wrap that scratch on your arm. What in the hell did you do to yourself