MY COCKY BASKETBALL PLAYER

Chapter 13

He didn't say anything the whole drive.

I sat in the passenger seat, holding my torn shirt together. My face was still wet. My hands were still shaking. I looked at him. He stared straight ahead. His jaw was tight. His hands gripped the wheel like he was holding on for dear life.

He didn't ask where I lived. He just drove. Like he already knew.

He pulled up outside my house. He didn't turn off the engine.

I waited for him to say something. Anything.

He didn't.

I got out. I closed the door. He drove away.

I stood there for a long moment. Then I walked inside.

***

The house was empty. My mother was at work.

I went to my room. I looked in the mirror.

My shirt was torn. My cheek was red. My hair was a mess. My eyes were puffy.

I sat on my bed. I replayed it. Maya grabbing my hair. The lockers. The camera. Derek's voice.

"Get off her."

I didn't understand.

I pulled out my phone. No texts. I put it down.

I lay back. I stared at the ceiling.

I hate him. I hate him so much.

But I couldn't stop thinking about the way he looked at me.

***

Monday morning.

I walked into school and felt it immediately.

The stares were back. The whispers were back. But this time, it was different.

"Did you hear what Derek did?"

"He carried her out."

"Like, picked her up and carried her."

"In front of everyone."

"What does that mean?"

"Does he like her?"

"Why would he do that?"

I kept my head down. I walked to my locker. Gemma was already there.

"You're alive," she said.

I didn't answer.

"I heard what happened. The whole school heard."

"Great."

"Nora." She grabbed my arm. "What happened? For real?"

I looked at her. I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to think about it.

But she was waiting.

"Maya cornered me," I said. "After the meeting. She pulled my hair. Tried to..."

I couldn't finish.

Gemma's face went pale. "Tried to what?"

"Tear my clothes off. They were filming."

She covered her mouth.

"Derek stopped her."

She stared at me.

"Derek stopped her," she repeated.

"Yes."

"Like, our Derek? The one who's been torturing you for months?"

"Yes."

She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "What does that mean?"

"I don't know."

***

First period. I sat in the back.

The whispers followed me. People kept turning around. Some looked confused. Some looked curious. Some looked like they didn't know what to think.

I saw Maya in the hallway between classes. She looked at me. She didn't smile. She didn't say anything. She just walked past.

I saw Derek at lunch. He was with his friends. He didn't look at me. Not once.

I kept walking.

***

By the end of the day, the questions had changed.

"Did you hear? Derek and Maya aren't talking."

"I heard he yelled at her."

"I heard she's furious."

"I heard it's because of the tutor."

"What, like he likes her?"

"No way. He's just... I don't know."

"I heard she made it up. The whole thing."

"No, there's a video. He literally carried her out."

"So what does that mean?"

"I don't know. But something's going on."

***

I got home. I sat on my bed.

My phone buzzed.

His number.

"Are you okay?"

I stared at the screen.

He asked if I was okay.

I didn't answer.

He sent another.

"You don't have to answer. Just checking."

I still didn't answer.

I didn't know what to say.

He saved me. He carried me out. He asked if I was okay.

He laughed at the cafeteria video. He made me wait an hour in the cold. He bumped my books. He called me nothing.

I hate him. I hate him so much.

But I couldn't stop thinking about the way he looked at Maya. The way he said, "Get off her." The way he picked me up like I weighed nothing.

I didn't understand him.

I didn't want to understand him.

But I couldn't stop.

***

Saturday. Tutoring.

I walked to his house. Same route. Same gate. Same dread.

But something was different this time. I could feel it in my chest.

I knocked. His mother answered. She smiled.

"Nora. Come in."

I followed her inside. Same hallway. Same photos. Same floors.

"He's in the study room," she said.

I nodded. I walked to the study room. I pushed the door open.

He was there. Sitting at the desk. Waiting.

He looked up when I walked in.

He didn't say hello. He didn't smirk. He didn't mock.

He just looked at me.

I sat down. I opened my notebook.

"Let's start," I said.

He didn't say anything.

I started teaching.

He didn't listen.

But something was different. He wasn't on his phone. He wasn't leaning back. He wasn't scrolling or yawning or staring at the ceiling.

He was watching me.

Just watching.

I kept teaching. I didn't look at him. I didn't react.

The hour ended.

I packed my things. I stood up.

"Same time next week?" I asked.

He didn't answer.

I walked out.

***

I walked home.

I replayed the session. The way he looked at me. The way he didn't say anything. The way he didn't smirk.

I didn't understand.

I got home. I checked my phone. No new texts.

I lay down. I stared at the ceiling.

Everyone's talking about it. Everyone wants to know what it means.

I don't have an answer.

I don't know what it means.

I don't know what any of it means.