Dancing with the Varsity Bad Boy

Chapter 13

Violet's POV

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The days carry on, Thursday leading into the weekend and now it's Sunday.

We seem to have settled into a routine, the football team and I. Jordan gave up on sleeping on the sofa bed after Thursday. Apparently, every time he tried to get out of his bed to return to the sofa bed I clung to him like a limpet. I'm not sure how much I believe that, but I've been known to do it to Lex and my brothers and dad. But I trust them, Jordan Mathews I don't trust. not like I trust my brothers.

Since Thursday I've called Gypsy every morning and night, and I've been woken a couple of times to urgent phone calls, her night terrors getting worse again, like they do every year.

I'm currently sat at the table in the kitchen, my tens machine on my back and a heat an click strapped to each hand as I talk at my laptop. When I pause the speech to text function, I stretch my arms over my head, arching my back to try and relieve the pain throbbing to a slow waltzing beat.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to watching you manage your chronic pain, while keeping on top of your studies," Eric says as he watches me. I ignore him. Gypsy manages her chronic phantom limb pain, and PTSD whilst keeping on top of her studies just as I manage my pain. Eric has never noticed her struggles, never seen the pain hidden behind her mask.

I can understand where Jordan is coming from concerning Eric's trauma but last night had been heart breaking listening to Gypsy whilst she was caught between a night terror and wakefulness. Even Jordan had been affected by her cries for help, and her pleas for her daddy to "wake up".

"I'm honestly impressed," Xavier says, strolling into the kitchen with groceries.

"I don't understand why you're impressed, this is normal for me," I mutter with a shrug, reading over the latest paragraph of my business studies paper.

"We're impressed because if we were in that much pain, we wouldn't be playing football," Chris says, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he places a glass of pineapple juice in front of me.

"Wait, you mean to say, you guys would let the pain win?" I ask, finally dragging my gaze away from the laptop screen to stare in confused horror at them when they nod or agree that they'd be done for if they experienced the levels of pain I do.

I shake my head and sigh, saving my current progress.

Whimps, the lot of them.

"It'd surprise you just what a person is capable of while living with chronic pain. My dad set up a football team for children like me when I was diagnosed and one of the first boys to join got drafted two years ago. Don't get me wrong, living with chronic pain isn't easy, but achieving our dreams is possible. We just have to take a different route to the average person," I shrug again, pulling out my phone when it starts buzzing.

"Gypsy? Are you ok?" I answer, the words spilling out.

(Announcer) "And now for first prize in this year's fine arts and animation competition." I gasp and switch the phone onto loud speaker, crossing my fingers and smiling when I notice she's connected a group call with me, Lex, Tamsyn and Imogen.

(Announcer) "Miss Gypsy Andrews, her piece "Me, My Trauma and I" wins first place in fine arts and "A conversation with heaven" winning first place in animation." I scream and cheer at Gypsy's gasp of surprise and her giggle as I hear Lex, Imogen and Tamsyn also cheering from the group call.

"I told you! I told you you'd win." I laugh at hearing my house mates echo with "We told her too!" Eric smiles watching me, his throat working as though to say something. I listen as Gypsy accepts her prizes and is asked what her inspiration behind the pieces were. Gypsy talks about how art has helped her come to terms with some traumatic times, and with the loss of people she loves. While she doesn't mention the school shooting, it's clear to us that's what she's talking about.

When she finishes speaking, I applaud her, along with our housemates.

It's only when things quieten down on Gypsy's end that Eric becomes able to speak.

"Well done, Gyps. Your family will be so proud of you," his voice tight, and Gypsy's sharp intake of breath has me glaring at the young man.

"Thanks Eric, I.... I hope I made my dad and Brads proud," her voice wobbles and I get up and leave the kitchen, unable to just sit here, and let Eric bring up so many painful emotions for her when she's already struggling.

"You bet your dad and Bradely are so proud of you baby girl. We're all proud of you," Tamsyn states, her voice firm with conviction and Lex and Imogen chim in with her, reasurring Gypsy that her father and best friend are proud of her achievements.

Unfortunately, we're only able to chat with Gypsy for a few minutes before she's called away to attend an interview for the national papers, and art magazines. Lex chims in with a "remember us when your famous comment," earning us a giggle from our friend.

As soon as Gypsy hangs up I pull up a group chat call with Imgoen, Tamsyn and Lex.

"So, how are we going to celebrate Gypsy's win?" I ask, not even starting the conversation with a "hello".

"Considering it's the anniversary, I think we leave the celebrating for a few days after she gets back. Then once we're all together we take her out for dinner, or even have a small house party," Tamsyn says, in the background we can hear the persistant beep of a heart monitor and the quiet chatter or nurses.

"I agree, having a big celebration as soon as she returns will overwhelm her when we all know she's struggling," Imogen says, the quiet pluck of a violin string audible on her end.

"So we'll gather all her favourite things, have our family film night when you've all returned, and then plan a small house party to celebrate Gypsy's and Imogen's wins," I state, already formulating a plan in my head.

"Hey now, I've not won anything yet," Imogen chuckles and I grin at her dismissal.

"We all know you are going to win, don't be so modest," Lex laughs before our conversation turns back to Gypsy.

"Have you got everything she'll need when she gets back?" Lex asks, his tone filled with concern for our friend.

"I better go around and get it, and check we do, if I need something I'll ask Chris to go out and pick up when I'll need," I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face.

"Make sure you ask her when she'll be back Vi. You'll be in for a long night," Tamsyn mutters, understanding in her tone.

"I know," I tilt my head back to stare at the ceiling.

When the PTSD is bad, when she's been putting off dealing with her triggers, and trauma, I'm the only one who can calm her down when the fall out starts.

"I'll send a email to mine and her professors, let them know that Gypsy might need to step out of class, or to call me if she starts having flash backs during classes. We don't need another month like Junior year," I say, and Lex chuckles at the memory, but it's not with humour. Junior year was when Lex was shown the true extent of the trauma we all carry. He was shown what we hide behind masks of polite smiles and we in turn saw behind his mask. It was an insightful year for us, and our friendships grew stronger.

We chat for another thirty minutes as I grab my crutch and signal to the boys still standing in the kitchen that I'm popping next door and will be back soon.

When I hang up the call and step back inside our temporary home, I make a beeline for the kitchen, opening the fridge and taking stock of the "comfort" foods. Writing out a list, and disposing of the food that has gone off, I then head into my bedroom and grab my "SOS" bag. Going through it, I check all the items, from photos and videos of Gypsy's past, to books to read aloud to her, and an Ipad for artwork to help her channle the flashbacks and night terrros. I also put in new sketch books and a pencil case filled with what she'll need. The jumpers in here are Lex's, her eldest brother's and a couple of her fathers, along with voice messages from her family. Once I've checked I have everything, I pick up the bag and head into Gypsy's room, picking up two blankets, one a weighted anxiety blanket in pale lavender, the other a patchwork quilt with patches from Eric's, Bradely's and her dad's jumpers she made with her mother while she was in rehab, learning to navigate life with only one leg.

A heavy sigh leave me as I fold the precious blanket and leave her room with everything I'll need.

When I get back to the football house, my phone chimes with a text and placing the bag and blankets on the sofa I pull my phone out to see a text from Gypsy.

Gypsy - Got a flight back for tonight. I'll pick you up from the football house.

Looking up I find Eric standing in the kitchen doorway, his gaze trained on the blanket on the sofa behind me.

Tonights going to be a long night.