Cold Day in the Sun by Sara Biren

Author:Sara Biren
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Abrams
Published: 2017-03-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

“So, Captain,” Justin says to me the next morning between second and third periods as we walk toward my locker. “That Fink at the Rink interview provided some fascinating insights into your personality. And ambitions.”

I groan. “Slacks. Stop.”

“And what did Coach say that day? About your interview? That you’d ‘represented your team beautifully’? ‘Acted with integrity and respect’?” He laughs.

“Shove it, Slacks.”

Morgan and Cora are already at the locker bank. I spin my combo, pop my locker open, and stuff my books inside.

I turn back to Justin. “I did all of those things. I never once disrespected anyone on our team.”

“Potato, potahto. What about the girls?”

“What about the girls? Are you saying I disrespected them?”

“I’m not saying it, but I’ve heard rumblings.”

“From?”

“Please stop fighting,” Morgan says.

“We’re not fighting, sweet cheeks,” Justin tells her, then turns back to me. “Jo Mama Manson, for one, and Lakesha Smith, for two.”

I roll my eyes. Lakesha is the other starting defense with Jo on the girls’ team.

“What did they say?”

“Lakesha said someone needs to knock you off your high horse, and Jo said she’s sick and tired of your holier-than-thou attitude.”

“Oh, for the love,” Cora says. “I’ll show her holier-than-thou.”

As much as I don’t want any of this to bother me, it does, but I would never let Justin—or anyone—know.

“Did they really say those things or are you creating drama, Slacks?” Morgan asks, and I love her for taking the words right out of my mouth.

“Can’t it be a little bit of both?” he replies with a devilish grin. “Fine. Yes, they actually said those things.”

“I can’t control how someone else feels,” I murmur. “But I can control how I feel and how I respond to situations.” I repeat the line from my interview that didn’t make the final edit. Too bad. I’d love for a few hundred people to hear it.

And I’d love to believe that I have that kind of control over my emotions, which at the moment are worn a bit thin.

“Oh my God, how very Zen of you, Holls.” He smirks. “All of Coach’s deep breathing and meditation and shit must be working for you.”

“Gotta go.” I pull a notebook out of my locker and slam the door shut. “See you all at lunch.”

This conversation—along with rude comments like, “Your hair looked surprisingly good, Holland. Did someone, like, style you?”—has put me in a bad mood.

When I sit down next to Beck in humanities, he says, “Saw you on TV, Delviss. You looked super hot.”

“Shut up, Bailey.”

“You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.”

Not this again. “What’s that supposed to mean, I’ve got balls?”

“Oh, come on, you know. Playing hockey with the big boys, telling everyone you want to be captain next year. That takes guts. Balls. Gonads.”

“I see. So, for someone to do something gutsy, she needs balls? As in, testicles? Meaning that someone without testicles is inherently less courageous?”

“Aw, crap,” Beck mumbles. “It’s just an expression. Chill out already.”

“I will not chill out. It’s not just an expression. Shit like that is demeaning, Beck, whether you mean it to be or not.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.