Knee Pads - Chapter 21: Chapter 21

Kat hadn't left that long before me and I hadn't spent that much time staring at a closed door, so I knew I'd catch up to her in no time.
Though it pained me to turn my back on Corinne when I knew she needed someone, I didn't want to risk losing Kat for good, especially on her special day, a day when she should be celebrated instead of dismissed. Sincerely hoping Corinne was safe in her room and not a danger to herself or others—she could very well be, knowing her—I promised myself I'd stop by the following day once the dust settled.
Kat was in the room by the time I got there, standing in front of her vanity mirror to take off her earrings, and didn't turn around when I closed the door. Instead, she stared at my reflection.
"You came back," she said. I nodded, tossing my jacket to my bed. "Did Corinne not open the door? I'm sorry. I really thought she would; I tried asking her to give people a chance, but—"
"I came back for you," I clarified, purposefully ignoring that last comment. If she thought she was doing either me or Corinne a favor by trying to force us to speak to each other, it wouldn't work; both of us were too full of pride to bend even the slightest bit. For all I knew, she was currently stuffing her face with alcohol as though it would solve anything or make it hurt any less, but I knew—I knew!—it would just be a temporary fix. "I wanted to spend time with you. You just won the Winter Showcase."
She flashed me a tight-lipped smile. "It really isn't that big of a deal."
The fact that she was trying to downplay her achievements shattered me.
That just made the reality dawn on me so much harder—there was so much I didn't know about my own roommate, my friend, and I'd never bothered to ask because I expected to have more time with her, or maybe I never thought it was that important. The way she'd carried herself on that stage, with poise and confidence, like she already knew she was going to win the Showcase, had nothing to do with the person standing in front of me now. Hadn't she called me out after the match with Hartford, back when I was second guessing myself?
"It is a big deal," I insisted, hopping to my bed and sitting with a leg beneath me. "I want to hear all about it. How are you feeling? Are you writing other songs? What comes next for you besides total world domination?"
That brought a genuine smile to her lips, which meant she wasn't nearly as mad at me as I'd assumed she was, but I was still not out of the woods yet. "I mean it; it's not that big of a deal in the greater scheme of things. I've won one Showcase; I know people who won all eight when they were in college. This means nothing to me."
"It means something to me. I want to see you succeed."
"Fine. I'll bite. What do you want from me? I can tell you're trying to suck up to me."
I patted the empty space next to me on the bed and she sat there, crossing her legs over my blue duvet. "I want us to be friends. I think you think I only hang out with you whenever Corinne is unavailable or mad at me and I'm sorry if I ever made you feel left out, but I never meant to do that." Words were just words and intentions didn't necessarily translate into actions, but I needed her to know I'd never meant to hurt her, even though I did. She was my derby wife through and through, not just my roommate, not just a fleeting moment in my life I'd forget in a few years, and that had to count for something. "I don't want you to feel the need to keep these moments to yourself. I'm here for you." I reached out for one of her hands, glad she didn't shrug it away. "Let's be here for each other."
Kat frowned. "Fine. I can't stay mad at you when you talk to me that way. It's like being mad at a kitten when it's purring." She playfully pushed my shoulder back. "I'm not celebrating this that much, but it really isn't because of you. I'm really glad you were there to watch me perform, though."
"Then why aren't you excited? Even if it's just one, it's a lot more than plenty of people have ever achieved."
"Because when you come from a big, demanding family, one Winter Showcase isn't enough. Like, don't get me wrong, my family has been super supportive of me, but they also expect great things from me. They got used to me being good, so they want me to one-up myself at any given time or competition." She sighed. "They also thought roller derby would be a distraction from my degree and I wouldn't get good grades or win competitions, but, as soon as they found out I was good at skating, they let it slide. Big families mean you have to be the best at something if you want to stand out, if you want people to pay attention to you, and I've never been the type of person who's happy standing on the sidelines. I wanted to make a name for myself, but, most of all, I wanted to make my family proud. I wanted them to be able to say 'that's our Kat' instead of being overlooked and living in the shadow of my siblings. They're all . . . very successful."
"In music?"
She nodded. "My sister Dani used to go here. She won three Winter Showcases. I only have one more to go, so it's obvious I'm not beating her record, but I still have two Summer Showcases. She never won one." She briefly glanced at her desk, where she kept her little song book. "I know how bad this sounds. It sounds like we're all competing with each other to see who can be the best and, since Dani and I chose the same area, it's even more vicious. I never felt like it was a competition, not really, especially since I also have roller derby championships under my belt and she's the least athletic person I know, and she's been so supportive of me ever since I got into Yale. I think my biggest competition is myself. So, no, one Showcase will never be enough for me."
I understood that better than she knew.
Had she known anything about me and Jordan, she'd know we were competitive—including against one another. It had all been in good faith; had it not been, I wouldn't have stopped skating as soon as he stopped playing ice hockey. Without him in the picture, I had a bright future without anyone to compare myself to, and I would have been happy. Hell, our parents had spent our entire lives comparing the two of us, wanting us to one-up the other even in the dumbest things—grades, sports, summer jobs, languages spoken—and I knew all too well how it felt to desperately want to prove yourself to someone, particularly our family.
That had destroyed Jordan.
Even if my parents didn't see it, even if they didn't want to admit it, I'd been there, and I knew what it had done to him. It wasn't even a matter of one of us being stronger than the other, like he'd confided to me once; it was about how things had affected us. I had other things in my life to worry about, other areas I could devote my time and effort to, and all he'd ever done up until then had been for the sake of an ice hockey career.
And then, like it was nothing, it ended. All his hopes and dreams—shattered. He'd seen no way out. Hell, we were all lucky that was how bad things got, especially when they could have turned out a lot worse. In a parallel universe, we wouldn't have been able to stop him, we wouldn't have convinced him to get treatment and commit to it, too stubborn, too far gone to acknowledge and accept he needed and was deserving of help. In that parallel universe—or maybe in another one—Theo would have gotten hurt thanks to his recklessness. I could have lost them both.
I couldn't lose Kat.
So, I told her everything.
I told her exactly that—everything about me, Theo, Jordan, my parents—in hopes she'd understand why I was in Connecticut, so far from home, UCLA, and everything I had ever known and taken for granted. She understood why I had pushed everyone away at first, why I'd been so reluctant to let her in, why I was being so pushy about wanting to get to know her now, why I hadn't touched a drop of alcohol. She understood why I hated being at Yale when I hadn't earned my spot here, when I had fought like hell for all my achievements previously—UCLA, summer internships, ice skating trophies and medals—and this felt like I was being done a favor.
I didn't know why or how it had all come spilling out of my mouth, but it happened. She listened without interrupting me, being the best possible listener I could have ever asked for, and, unlike with Doctor Nguyen, I never felt like I was being judged or analyzed. It just felt like talking to someone who genuinely cared, but it could never replace talking to a professional.
Still. It felt strangely liberating to get it out of my chest, with all the weight being lifted off my shoulders.
"Thank you for telling me this," Kat said, giving my wrist a gentle squeeze. "I'm happy you trust me."
"I'm sorry for not saying anything earlier," I replied, in the saddest attempt at an apology I'd ever heard. "I guess I was . . ."
". . . scared? I get that. I don't hold it against you, don't worry. Like I told you months ago, I know I can be a little bit too much, come on too strong." She flashed me a shy smile, so unlike her. "I think I spooked you a little bit, but I just wanted you to feel welcome here. I understand you were feeling a bit like a fish out of water, so far away from home. Things might have worked out better had you roomed with Marley, who actually knows California and would have been of much better help than me, but, for what it's worth, I really tried. I'm happy we're able to talk to each other like this."
"I wasn't that nice to you, either. If anyone should apologize, it's me."
"Girl." She playfully punched me in the shoulder. "Tell me you're not using the it's not you, it's me card. We sound like a bantering old married couple right now."
"Are we not a bantering old married couple, though?"
She wrinkled her nose in thought, then laughed. "What is friendship if not a platonic marriage?"
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The following morning, I woke up early to go for a run.
That decision went against everything I stood for, as my little body was too exhausted from cramming for my finals and from roller derby and all I wanted was to sleep in, yet I still pushed myself out of bed.
The sun had yet to rise outside and the cold wind bit deep into my skin, even though I'd tried to zip up my jacket the best I possibly could, and I was beginning to regret everything about my choices. I could barely see a thing ahead of me thanks to the early morning fog, the snowfall from the previous night, and the weak illumination provided by the streetlamps and garden lights, but I still pushed through.
The lack of visibility proved to be a bigger challenge than I'd anticipated, a constant reminder that something could be lurking in the shadows, and there was nowhere I could run towards if I wanted to be safer. I'd bought a whistle, a tiny thing, back in my freshman year of college and had brought it to Connecticut with me, just in case, yet dread still crept up my neck as I jogged.
A hooded figure ran past me, jogging in the opposite direction, while I spent the entire time holding my breath, not wanting to occupy too much space and draw attention to myself. That ended up costing me more stamina than just simply ignoring the guy's presence, as I had to slow down until I stopped to finally allow myself to take a deep breath, with a hand pressed to my side.
"Wren?"
I turned around, following the sound of that voice, and there was only one person who could have called my name. Drew stood a few feet away, hood pulled over his head, and removed one of his AirPods when he noticed I'd reacted.
"Hey," I replied, shooting him an awkward wave. I wasn't sure how to act around him, as we'd never been close and I couldn't quite shake off the thought he and Corinne had fought because of me at least once, in spite of her telling me that hadn't been the case. He was probably under the impression us derby girls stood up for and stood by each other unconditionally, which wasn't wrong, and I didn't want to be the person he vented to about Corinne, but the poor guy probably needed someone to talk to. "I couldn't tell it was you. It's really dark."
"Yeah." He looked back over his shoulder, contemplating whether he should just resume his jog, but ultimately made his way towards me. I was still trying to breathe properly instead of dry heaving, hands on my hips, and it wasn't the prettiest of sights, but, now that he was on his way, I couldn't simply turn my back on him and leave. "I think this is the first time I've seen you run. Do you do this often?"
"Usually with Kat, never this early. I didn't want to wake her up and I'm thinking it was a better idea for me to stay in bed." I let out a nervous laugh. It wasn't him I was scared of, the human version of a Golden Retriever, but the last thing I wanted to do was say the wrong thing. "Coach Fontaine is very adamant that we need to get our cardio workouts."
One of the corners of his mouth rose the slightest bit. "I get that. I hated cardio back when I started playing football in high school. I thought I'd already be doing enough running on the field and definitely didn't think I'd need to build up my stamina. I didn't think football was worth all that, anyway, but it grew on me."
To me, there hadn't ever been a version of Drew Sterling that didn't enjoy playing football—after all, he was Yale's beloved quarterback who could do no wrong, as evidenced by the way he hadn't gotten in trouble after beating up a Harvard student—but there he was, being relatable. Like he hadn't always enjoyed a sport and momentarily considered it to not be worth as much effort as it was, I felt the same about roller derby.
There weren't many things we had in common besides pining after the same girl and being yelled at by that same girl, but there we were, bonding in the middle of the nearly empty campus at seven in the morning in December.
"What made you change your mind?" I asked.
"Peer pressure, mostly." He shrugged. "All my friends liked football, my father used to play professionally, so I guess it made sense for me to get into it. It was all I'd ever known. No one forced me to do it, not like . . ." His voice trailed off, but I didn't need him to complete that sentence. He hadn't been forced to do it and force-fed a career like Corinne had. "It was tolerable at first, nothing special. I think what dragged me in the most was the feeling of belonging, you know? You share your wins and defeats, your highs and lows with your team, and those guys turn into your second family. Then, I got offered a scholarship, and my parents and I thought it was too good of an opportunity to ignore, even if it wasn't for football, so I took it. I never thought I'd still be playing in college or even considered playing professionally, but I've grown more open to that idea. It's still important to have an alternative in case something happens and I can't play anymore."
I exhaled through my mouth, with this conversation having taken a turn I wasn't too pleased with. Both Kat and Drew had successfully managed to tug at my heartstrings by reminding me of how everything had gone wrong for Jordan, when he had the whole world at his feet, when he had the brightest of futures in front of him, and all of it had been ripped away from him in seconds. One injury and his entire life and career had changed.
He must have sensed my discomfort, as he grimaced. "Sorry. I didn't mean that."
"Huh?"
"I heard about your brother. After what that Harvard guy said." I clenched my jaw, looking away from him. "I can't say I know exactly what he went through or even what you are, but some guys I know also got really bad injuries. It just takes one bad fall to end a career and you can never predict when it will happen. Some of them got back on the field, others didn't. It's never fair to have your dreams be ripped away from you."
"Yeah. I can't really understand it myself, either, and I'm lucky I never got that hurt, but maybe, if I had, I would have been able to help him better." I crossed my arms when the wind hit us, while Drew didn't even budge. "I keep thinking about what I could have done differently, how much of this is my fault—"
"You're doing the best you can. That will always be enough."
"Will it?"
"In the long run, yeah. Most of the time, it's hard to see things on the brighter side when it feels like everything is out to get you, but I've found it helps to look forward every once in a while. It makes you think about how you can get there, not what you could have done before. It gives you some perspective." He put his AirPod back on. "I gotta go. If you ever decide to run in the morning again, text me. I'm usually available."
I nodded. "Thanks, Drew. I'm . . . I'm sorry about Corinne. I really am."
His smile briefly faltered. "Me too."
Then, he turned around and ran off, eventually disappearing into the fog, and I took the opposite direction to return to my dorm. Jogging with him in the mornings wouldn't be that bad of an idea, offering me an extra layer of protection I wouldn't have otherwise—though I hated even having to think about that—but I didn't even want to think about what Corinne would say if she knew.
I didn't want to think about Corinne, either, but my brain was wired to do so at the worst times possible and it was like she was tuned to appear exactly then. Just as I tried to enter the building, she stood on the other side of the door, pushing it open while I pulled the handle, and we came to a standstill. She threw me a homicidal glare, as though she was considering slamming me against the door, but ultimately stepped away to let me in.
"Good morning to you, too," I told her.
"Don't talk to me," she replied. She also didn't make any move to exit the building, which added yet another item to her list of contradictions. "Take a picture. It'll last longer."
"No, I'd rather just stand and stare at you." I raised a hand to pinch her cheek, surprised she didn't brush it away. "Pretty."
She scowled. "What do you want?"
"I've been trying to talk to you for days now. You'll have to stop avoiding me eventually."
"Says who?"
"Says whoever doesn't have the emotional maturity of a fifth grader. Can we please have a normal conversation for once? I miss you, Corinne, whether you like it or not, and I miss us talking and being friends. Everyone misses you, including Kat, who you didn't even bother supporting last night." A muscle in her jaw throbbed and, for a second, I almost believed I was getting through those stupid walls of her. "Please let us in. You need your friends."
Corinne exhaled, shoulders drooping, and, when she looked back at me, her bottom lip quivered for the briefest of moments. "You don't get it."
"Then try to explain it to me. Please."
She let out an agonized sigh. "Fine. Meet me in my room." She wrinkled her nose, almost looking like her regular version. "But shower first. You stink."