Chapter 4: The Locker Room

The rugby team trained at five on the field behind the rec center.

I waited by the locker room door with my duffel at my feet and my phone in my hand.

I hadn't slept.

Jo had left a note on her fridge that said, in block capitals, DO NOT PUNCH ANYONE, and a smaller line under it: I mean it.

Players came in muddy and loud.

Shane came in last, alone, with his head down.

He saw me and stopped in the doorway.

"I can't do this here," he said.

"Then where?"

"Devin."

"Where, Shane?"

He pushed past me into the locker room.

I followed him.

It was empty except for the two of us, and the smell of wet grass and old tape.

He sat on the bench in front of his locker with his elbows on his knees.

I stood over him.

"Say it," I said. "Say it to my face. Did it happen?"

He kept his eyes on the concrete floor.

"It happened."

I had known the answer since the dinner, but my chest still dropped.

"The night of her birthday."

"Yes."

"You were at my grandfather's wake that afternoon. You hugged me. You said you'd see me back at school."

"I know."

"And you went to her."

He didn't say anything.

"Did you love her?"

"No."

"Did you want her?"

He took a long time.

"Ask me something else," he said.

"Why would I ask you something else?"

"Because I don't get to explain it. I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'm asking you not to make me say it."

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