CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO | ILLEGAL PROCEDURES

technical infractions that give the offending team an advantage but do not directly impact a specific opponent.

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          The funny thing about showers was that I usually liked to take my time in there, let the water do its job and either relax my muscles or wake me up so I could be fully prepared for whatever awaited me afterward.

          Now, it felt inappropriate to take a cold shower just because Corinne had so kindly invited me to her room, not to mention it was far too cold outside for that to even be considered an option. A hot shower would feel nice, especially while followed by a warm cup of coffee, but it would leave me too drowsy and I didn't have time for coffee, knowing Corinne would get impatient if she had to wait too long for me to show up, so I'd been caught in a bit of a predicament.

          When I smelled my jacket, trying to check if I really did stink, I couldn't smell much except for the smell of a regular sports jacket, my deodorant, and the faintest hint of Drew's perfume. Of course he'd be the type of person to wear perfume during an early morning run, but I still wondered if that's the stink Corinne had been referring to. If there was anyone who would instantly recognize his perfume, it would be her.

          Mind racing, I stormed into my dorm room to pick up something nice to wear after the shower, accidentally forgetting Kat was still asleep. She woke up with a start, jumping awake on her bed, and fumbled to search for the switch on her lamp, while I illuminated my path with my phone.

          "Dude," Kat complained, still half asleep. "Do you know what time it is?"

          "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I just need to get some clothes."

          "Can't you do that without waking up everyone in the building? Jeez." She plopped back into bed, turning her back to me, and I stumbled towards what I thought was my dresser. I didn't want to take too long, but hurrying was considerably more difficult than it should be when I was blindly navigating my room. "You almost gave me a heart attack. Not cool."

          "I've already apologized. Do you want me to sing you a lullaby so you can go back to sleep, my queen?" Even under such dim lighting, I could see her reach out an arm towards my general location, flipping me off. "I'm going to take a shower, and then I'm meeting Corinne in her room. Just thought you'd like to know, since you were so eager to get rid of me last night."

          "You are vicious. I'm the one who should be making all these snarky comments at you, since you were the one who woke me up." She sat up on the bed and turned on the light. I sighed with relief, happy I could finally see where I was going instead of risking knocking something down, like my pride. "I am, like, so sorry for trying to do something nice on your behalf. I was just trying to help you, considering you wouldn't do it by yourself and it's sad to see you sulk over Corinne."

          "It's even sadder to be kept at arm's length and pushed away when you're only trying to help her, and yet." I straightened, with a pair of mom jeans, underwear, a bra, and a knit sweater swung over my arm, clothes light enough for someone who wouldn't be going outside, but not too light so I wouldn't freeze to death. "And, for the record, I wasn't sulking. I don't sulk."

          "Wah, Corinne won't talk to me, wah, this is the worst thing that has ever happened to me, ever," she mocked, shaking her head, while I certainly hoped I hadn't sounded like that. That reeked of desperation, and I wasn't that type of girl. I didn't beg for things, nor did I wait around for miracles. I went after what I wanted. "How is that not sulking? You got super prissy whenever anyone mentioned Corinne around you."

          "I did no such thing!"

          "You kind of did. Feel free to ask the rest of the team about it." She paused. "Just don't mention it to Corinne. I'm sure that's the last thing she wants to hear about."

          "She told me I stank."

          "Well, you did just come back from a run—"

          "I actually ran into Drew outside. My jacket smells like his cologne. Here." I reached out an arm towards her, holding it just under her nose, and, though she hesitated at first, she still sniffled it like a cat. Then, she puckered her lips in recognition, head slightly tilted to the side. "Yeah. Exactly. Like, I don't want her to get the wrong idea, and it's not like we were talking about her—I did tell him I was sorry about them breaking up, obviously—but you know Corinne better than I do. She gets riled up really easily and Drew is a sensitive subject."

          Kat sighed. "Look. I understand. I understand you're scared of saying the wrong thing around her, but I also think you need to take a moment and reflect on why that is. I assure you Corinne is tougher than that. Even if it's a flesh wound now, it's not something she'll agonize over for too long, and she's a lot more upset about being cut from the team. Surely you understand why." I reluctantly nodded. Corinne had spent her entire life trying to match the unreasonable expectations Coach Fontaine had imposed upon her and being kicked out of the team was only the final nail in the coffin. She felt like she had failed them both. "I don't think you need to be scared of her reaction. If anything, I'm sure she's glad to have someone to talk to, someone who actually understands where she's coming from. My situation isn't really that similar to hers and my family has always been very supportive. Coach . . . well, Coach has a weird way of showing love. It's roller derby and success above everything else, including Corinne's health and happiness. I've never had to go through something like that, but you have Jordan. I know it's not exactly the same, but it gives you something to lean back on while you talk to her."

          "I hate that you're right all the time. I really do." She flashed me a smug grin. "Have you ever considered a Psychology degree? You and Jordan's therapist are always so correct it pains me."

          "Hashtag music is my therapy." She drew the hashtag symbol with her index and middle fingers from both hands, then cringed at herself. "That was the worst thing I've ever said in my life. I blame the ungodly way I was woken up." She retreated back into bed, covering herself up to her chin with her multiple blankets. "Go take a shower, talk to Corinne, and make sure you memorize everything because you know I'll be waiting here to hear all about it. Don't come back until I wake up. Thank you."

          I didn't have the heart to tell her off, knowing I had already disrupted her morning enough, so I was quick to turn off the lights and exit the room.

          I didn't take long in the shower, either, heart thudding in anticipation, even though it was the stupidest thing I could be feeling, and was out in no time. I briefly considered putting on some makeup, as I carried some of my products inside my little shower bag, but it would probably be too much. Corinne's face had been bare when I ran into her and I doubted she'd make the effort of dolling herself up for one conversation, so all I did was conceal the dark purple circles under my eyes.

          There was nothing about me that screamed well-rested. The only glow on my skin was thanks to the shower I'd just taken, and even that fell short from the glisten of the light above my head on my septum piercing. UCLA had never pushed me as hard as Yale had.

          So, when I stopped in front of Corinne's door, like I had done countless times before, my empty stomach really wanted me to gag. I didn't even know why I was so scared of knocking or going inside—it wasn't like she wanted to hit me or even like she would do such a thing—but I had to use all my energy and courage to raise a hand and make my presence known.

          "It's not locked, Wren," Corinne told me, from the other side of the door. Her voice sounded somewhat distant, like she was as far away from the door as her room allowed her to. "You can come in."

          I wasn't sure why those little words had successfully managed to create a knot in my stomach, but they had. When I pushed the door open, I found her sitting at her window seat, the one where she loved to read, and, sure enough, she didn't even raise her head to look at me, too focused on the book she was reading. I remembered that one comment Drew had once made about some book club they were both part of and wondered if that was still a thing.

          Even after Theo and I decided we wouldn't work together as a couple, we still hung out as friends and still spent plenty of time together. Drew and Corinne were in a much more complicated situation, I thought, and it felt like she was the only reason why he'd joined that book club. I couldn't imagine him going back if it wasn't for her, not when football kept him busy enough, but I also couldn't forget the glint in his eyes that day when he showed off the book she had annotated for him.

          "You're here."

          "You asked me to meet you here."

          "Guess I expected you to change your mind."

          I raised an eyebrow in defiance. "And when have I ever done that?"

          She shrugged, staring out of the window. "It's for your own good, really. There are a dozen things you should be doing right now that wouldn't take nearly as much mental energy."

          I groaned. "Not the self-deprecating act again, Corinne."

          "Some people have low self-esteem."

          "Some people do. Not you, though. You're hot shit and you know it."

          "Indeed. I am hot shit."

          We stood in silence for a while, with me awkwardly standing by the door, and she ultimately lowered her legs, setting her feet on the floor, and turned to me. Looking right at her made it worse, something akin to staring directly at the sun, but I refused to look away.

          Eventually, she gave in.

          "You can sit, if you'd like," she said. "You can either use the chair or my bed. It doesn't really matter. Just please don't stand there. It makes me nervous."

          I had to bite my tongue to prevent myself from replying with a sarcastic comment, something that would, for sure, lead to me getting kicked out of the room, and then made my way towards her neatly made bed. It felt a bit too intimate, as I could have easily chosen the chair by her desk, but I'd learned to get used to not being in full control of my cognitive capabilities whenever she was around.

          I didn't know what to tell her.

          There was so much to be said, so much I wanted to say, but I didn't know where to even begin. Somehow, it felt like an entire eternity had passed since that fateful day when she was expelled from the team and, simultaneously, like no time had passed at all.

          "I owe you an apology," I started, staring down at my hands, as I found it was much easier to gather my thoughts when I wasn't looking her in the eye. If I couldn't see her reaction to my words, then it would be okay to trust my interpretation of things. "I should have spoken up on your behalf when Coach was ripping you a new one. Everyone else did and the only reason you got involved in that brawl was to defend me so, if anyone should have said anything to defend you, it should have been me. Looking back, I'm not sure what I was so afraid of, especially since it seemed like Coach had already made up her mind about what she was going to do and say, and things couldn't have gone any worse, but there really is no excuse. It was my duty as your friend and as your team member. I'm really sorry."

          "No."

          "What?"

          "I stepped in because that guy from Harvard didn't know how to take a hint. I chose to get involved. Like you said, you're my teammate. Were, anyway. It was my duty as captain to look out for you, but I didn't have to slap anyone. That was a decision I made by myself, for myself. It had nothing to do with you."

          "Okay, but—"

          "You didn't have to say anything. Like you said, it wouldn't have changed a thing. You didn't owe me anything, none of the other girls did, but it was their choice to do so, like it was my choice to get involved and to slap that girl. People's decisions matter and I'm . . . dealing with the consequences of my choices." She paused for a brief moment and, when she spoke again, her voice was softer. "It doesn't change the fact that I was furious at you for not saying anything, but that's just my emotional side speaking louder than my rational one. I'm allowed to feel hurt."

          "I know that. I'm really sorry."

          "It's whatever now. Neither of us can change anything about what happened and, in the end, I'm still no longer part of the team." A shuffling sound coming from her general direction told me she had gotten up from the window seat and I was finally forced to look up when she sat on the bed in front of me. I kept my legs crossed over her duvet, scared I'd mess anything up, but she'd thrown herself to it without much care. "I know you also come from a skating background, but it's different. It was never imposed on you, and you chose to start skating. Even if you did so because of Jordan, there was no actual pressure for you to do so. With me, it's the type of thing that was expected of me from my entire family, not just my mom. Just imagine what they'll talk about during family meetings. It's safe to assume they won't be happy."

          I knitted my brows. "It's not your fault. You didn't quit the team. You did nothing wrong."

          She shrugged. "Tomato, tomato. If anything, I brought it upon myself, and my mom was just reacting to something I did to her first. Roller derby comes in first place, always, and she thinks she's justified in not wanting the integrity of the team to be compromised just because I felt like slapping someone from our rival school. It probably wouldn't be that big of a deal for any other family, but for mine . . . well." Her lips stretched into a pathetic excuse for a smile, and she was shattering—slowly, but surely. "Everyone's first reaction when they hear about it is just like 'why don't you leave?' or 'why do you let them treat you that way?' and never 'why do they think they have the right to do those things to you?'. I'd leave if I had anywhere else to go, but this has been my whole life. This is my entire family. There's nowhere for me to go, not until I graduate, and even then . . . I have no money. I have no other choice but to stay. Even if I could leave, then what am I supposed to do with this constant feeling that I've let everyone down, that I failed them? That I failed myself? What do I do after that? What is there left?"

          I scooted closer to her, close enough for my knee to nearly brush against hers, but the physical contact between us came from me reaching out for one of her hands. This time, she was the one not looking me in the eye, staring at the minuscule empty space separating us.

          "Have you ever spoken to anyone about this?" I questioned. "Not just a friend. A professional."

          Corinne shook her head. "No. By the point I realized this wasn't normal, things had already gone too far. There's no way of fixing it, so I guess I just have to live with it."

          "Except there is. There's always a way of making it better going forward for you. Maybe it's too late to change old family patterns, but there's still time to change. It can end with you."

          "What for?" She looked up at me and, though her eyes were filled to the brim with tears, I was still mesmerized by the speckles of green and gold scattered on them. "It's not like it will matter. I'll be an even bigger disappointment if I don't carry on with the family tradition and I'm not skating anymore. It was one of the few good things I had and now . . ." She inhaled, breath shaking. "It's gone. Even if I grab my skates and run a few laps, it's not the same. I want to play. I wanted to win the championship so bad, and even that was taken away from me."

          I didn't know what else to do. I wasn't a therapist and I couldn't undo over twenty years of damage that had been done to her, nor could I force her to listen to me and believe me. Kat told me that going through what I had with Jordan would maybe help me during this conversation, but, like how it had happened with him, I now found myself at a loss for words.

          I could offer her my company, my support, my help, and I could invite her over for Christmas if she so wanted to, but it wasn't my job to fix her. She wouldn't want me to try, anyway, and the lack of hope she saw in her future was shattering my heart. Even when I tried to convince myself this wasn't the Corinne Fontaine I knew, there was a chance I hadn't ever known her at all.

          "Corinne," I called, when she tightened the hold on my hand. "Is there anything I can do? You can come to my house for Christmas, if you'd like."

          "My mom would have to come, too. I couldn't leave her alone, not on Christmas."

          "That's fine. I'm sure my parents won't mind."

          She nodded once, fingers twitching against mine. "Okay."

          "Do you want me to go?"

          She looked pensive for a moment, then shook her head. "Stay. I need to sleep for a while. It's nice to have some company."

          I could have thrown up from the sheer emotional impact that simple statement and request had on me, but I was too focused on how close to each other we were sitting. One of us had inched closer at some point, though I wasn't sure which of us had done it, and I couldn't find the strength to do anything—move away, move closer, breathe.

          If she breathed in, deep, I'd feel it in my bones. Everything in me ached for something, something more, and she even looked up at me through her long lashes, tears glistening on them like morning dew. Staring at her was something akin to a religious experience, even without any of us doing anything, and I wondered if she, too, felt the electrical current between us.

          Then, she moved.

          She turned her back to me and curled into a ball on the bed, sniffling almost imperceptibly, and I followed suit. I kept a safe distance between us, not wanting to overstep her boundaries, especially after a fresh breakup, but then she asked me, so quietly I barely heard her, to hold her.

          "Are you sure?"

          "Yeah."

          I did just that. 

          My hand tentatively rested on her arm, testing the waters, but then she let out a sigh in annoyance, a change in attitude that I certainly welcomed, so I risked scooting closer to fully wrap an arm around her, my fingers brushing against the back of her hand.

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Soon™