Chapter Four

I stacked the last set of CDs on the shelf in the back of the radio hall before heading to the front. I was shuffling through the shelves and boxes of records and CDs, exhausted from my nine hour shift at the radio station. When I reach the front, I see Anita, one of the radio announcers, through the glass of the soundproof room and she waves goodbye. I barely muster a smile up and a wave back before heading out.

Before I could make my escape, the voice of my boss, Tony, stopped me. "Lily, hold up."

I turn around and force a smile through my exhaustion. "What's up, Tony?"

He holds up an envelope and smiles back at me. "You wouldn't want to forget this, would you?"

My smile turns genuine when I reach for the check in his hands. "Thanks, Tony."

"No problem," Tony nods. "I'll see you next week."

I turn around and this time, my escape is successful. I manage to slip out of the radio station, this time with a check in hand, and begin my long walk back to my dorm room. Almost immediately, I reach into my pocket and pull my phone out to dial my mothers number with one hand as I tear open the envelope with the other.

As I hear the line ring, I glance at the check, satisfied to see that I had made close to eight hundred dollars in the past two weeks. "Hello?"

My moms voice startled me, and I jump a little before answering, "Hey, mom."

"Lily, this isn't really a good time," My mom starts, and it's then that I notice the exhaustion in her tone. My stomach drops when her weary voice continues, "I'm at the hospital with Danny, and the doctors are about to come in."

My heart starts kicking into overdrive. "Why are you there? Danny usually does chemo on Tuesday and Thursday. Did something happen? Is everything okay?"

"If it was an emergency, I would've called you," She replied tiredly, then I hear a voice in the background speak.

"Lily, I have to go. Doctor Roberts just walked in. I'll call you after my shift, okay?"

"Okay," I manage to choke out. "I love you. Tell Danny I love him, too."

She hangs up without another word, and I feel my head start to spin. It was moments like these that I hated myself for choosing to go to school miles away when my little brother was at home, sick. I should be there at the hospital with them, holding Danny's hand and listening to what Doctor Roberts has to say.

I felt myself get light headed as I continued stumbling toward my dorm, my legs feeling like jelly as I try to carry myself further. My mind still swam with the unanswered questions I had asked my mom. Did something happen? Is Danny okay?

And then, without realizing it, I felt myself falling, my vision spotted with black before I hit the ground and was consumed in darkness.

• • •

"...no food in her system. She most likely fainted because she was exhausted," An unrecognizable voice explains.

I feel myself slowly come to, like I was floating toward my body, unable to move or speak.

"Is her head okay? I saw her fall, she hit the ground pretty hard," A deeper voice questions, but it isn't a stranger. It sounded oddly familiar.

"There's just a bump, but other than that, there's no damage," The first voice says.

Finally, I feel some strength flow into my body, and I manage to wiggle my fingers. Next, I try to pry my eyes open, but the weight of my eyelids makes the task difficult. I try again and this time I'm successful, but the bright lights make me groan and shut them again.

The two voices stop discussing whatever it is they were talking about, which I'm assuming was me, and I feel a warm hand place itself on my arm. I force myself to open my eyes again to see who it was, and when I do, I see a smiling older woman looking down at me.

"Lily, my name is Patricia, and I'm the nurse at the medic center," The lady says sweetly. "You fainted earlier and this nice young man brought you here."

Her words remind me there's another person in the waiting room, and my eyes shift to where she had gestured, only to widen when I realize who it was. Leaning against the wall, watching from the corner of the room, was Vincent. And, for once, he wasn't smirking, but instead observing me with his brow knitted together.

To say I was confused was an understatement. I mean, Vincent and I hated each other, yet he was the one to bring me to the medic center on campus? I pried my gaze away from him and looked back at the nurse, who was holding a glass of water in her hands.

"Try to sit up for me, dear," The nurse put her free hand on my back to help me up. "And drink this, your throat must be dry."

I took the glass from her hands eagerly and drank the entire cup, unaware how dry my threat really was until I finally drank something. She laughed lightly as I handed her back the empty cup, and I offered a smile.

"Thank you," I manage to say, my voice scratchy from not speaking.

"No problem, hun. You seem to be alright, but you can blame your fatigue on the lack of food in your stomach.

When's the last time you ate?" Patricia eyed me suspiciously, probably assuming I was starving myself on purpose.

Which, for the record, I wasn't. I love food way too much to give it up.

"Dinner last night," I answer sheepishly, and upon seeing the disappointed look she gave me, I defended, "I woke up late for work and had to go straight there, then skipped my lunch break. Believe me, once I'm out of here, I'll be eating a four course meal."

My words seemed to reinstate some kind of approval, because Patricia nodded and stepped back. "Good. If you're feeling alright, you're good to go."

I glance at Vincent again, who was still studying me silently, and then nod at Patricia. It was unsettling, seeing Vincent so quiet. He was always either spouting out some egotistical remark or insulting me. His silence wasn't refreshing like I always assumed it would be, but it was uncomfortably heavy.

Before I can thank Patricia again, she slips out the door, leaving me alone with Vincent. For some reason, the air between us felt thick, not at all like what it usually was. Talking to Vincent, even if it was when he was annoying me and I was telling him to quit being obnoxious, came easy. It was never strained.

"Thanks for bringing me here," I say awkwardly as I climb out of the bed. "You didn't have to stay."

He silently studies me for another minute, his expression the most serious I've ever seen him. I feel my stomach clench when I realize he was about to ask something that confirmed my suspicions, which were wondering if he heard me on the phone with my mom earlier.

Sure enough, he questions in a low voice, "What happened before you fainted?"

I looked away from him immediately, feeling my heart beat quicken. I haven't told anyone about Danny except Jane. It wasn't because I was ashamed, not at all. But I didn't want to be pitied. I accepted my situation and do everything I can for my mom: I send her most of my paycheck to help with the hospital bills, I schedule doctors appointments from school, and I call frequently to check in on her and Danny.

I didn't want to be pitied or treated differently because of my brothers condition. I didn't want anyone looking at me and thinking about my brothers illness. And a small part of me thought I owed it to Danny to keep his personal life private, away from people he didn't even know. For those reasons, I never told any of the guys about my little brother, even if they are some of my closest friends.

"Nothing," I lie so easily and fluently that it's almost sad. "Listen, I'm going to get going-"

"I heard you on the phone," Vincent interrupts.

My blood freezes as I hold onto the tiniest sliver of hope that maybe he hadn't heard me mention Danny's chemotherapy, but I knew it was useless.

"How much did you hear?" I choke out, still unable to look at him.

"Enough to know you were worried about someone named Danny," Vincent mentions so casually that it causes my blood to boil.

I turn to look at him and narrow my eyes. "It's none of your fucking business, Vincent."

He narrows his eyes back at me. "It is if whatever happened caused you to faint, and made me carry you across campus to the medic clinic."

"You didn't have to bring me here," I counter childishly. "That was your choice."

"What, did you want me to leave you passed out in the middle of the sidewalk like some asshole?" Vincent shouts, clearly losing his temper.

"You've never had a problem being an asshole before!" I shout back, equally as heated.

He groans loudly and throws his hands up in defeat, growling, "You know what? I don't give a shit. Keep your damn secrets if they make you so happy."

With that, Vincent turned and walked out the door, slamming it shut behind him. I flinched at the sound of the slam as it ricochets, staring at the door with a hard glare. My chest rose and fell quickly as I breathed heavily, trying to calm down. I don't know why I was so furious, but something about Vincent put me on edge.

Once I regained some sort of composure, I got up and left the room, and met the gaze of Patricia, who had clearly heard our argument. I gave her an apologetic smile and put my head down, hurrying out of the medic center. As I walked back to my dorm, my phone rang, and I eagerly searched for it in case it was my mom.

But instead, Trevor's name flashed on the screen, and I sighed before answering. "Hey, Trev, what's up?"

"Where are you?" Trevor shouts through the phone. "Practice started twenty minutes ago. You're never late. Are you okay?"

I curse when I check the time and realize I've been out longer than I thought. "I'm good, don't worry. I'll be there in five."

"Do you know where Vincent is?" Trevor asks, then lowers his voice. "He's not here either and Coach is pissed.

We're not supposed to be late to practice ever. He's talking about sitting him out in the game tomorrow."

I felt bad that Vincent was late because of me, but couldn't tell Trevor the real answer.

So, like I've been doing plenty lately, I lie. "No, I don't know where he is."

Trevor groans and then mutters, "Just hurry up and get here before Sandra rips your head off with her talons."

I smirk a little at the dig at Sandra before bidding Trevor goodbye and hightailing it to the football field. When I finally reach the field, I can see Coach Baxter at the fifty yard line shouting at Vincent, who was taking it silently. His shoulders were slumped and his head hung as Coach scolded him, making hand gestures to emphasize his point.

I kept my head down as I crossed the field, afraid to feel the wrath of an angry Coach. Don't get me wrong; Coach Baxter is a very kind man whom I respect entirely, but he was also still a coach. Coaches were strict and tended to have a no-bullshit attitude. Considering Coach Baxter embodied this attitude, yet still constantly had to deal with Vincent's bullshit when it came to his poor grades and attitude, he was likely furious.

Needless to say, I didn't want to draw any attention to myself. So, I rounded the field quietly, toward the unattended trainer bag by the boys water bottles. The rest of the boys were at the end of the field, throwing the ball around by the twenty yard line or stretching out. Sandra was nowhere to be seen, and I breathed out, relieved that I was home free.

"You're thirty minutes late," A voice startles me from behind.

I spoke too soon.

I turn around and smile apologetically at Sandra. "I know and I'm sorry. I was at the medic clinic because I-"

"I don't want to hear it," Sandra cut me off curtly. "Don't let it happen again."

With that, she walked down the sideline, leaving me alone with the bag. I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding and slumped down to the grass, sitting down beside the trainer bag. My gaze slowly shifted from the direction Sandra walked off to the field, and I stopped when I saw Coach Baxter and Vincent.

Vincent looked like he was begging for something, and his face was desperate. Coach, however, was shaking his head, and said something that made Vincent's face fall. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but this much was clear: it wasn't going in Vincent's favor.

Finally, Vincent nods, such a small movement I'm not sure I would've caught onto it if I had not been studying the interaction from the sideline. He hangs his head as he turns away from Coach Baxter and starts walking off the field. Vincent heads for the locker rooms as Coach blows his whistle and signals for everyone to meet him at the fifty.

Coach Baxter presumably explains the contents of today's practice to the team before they split up into two groups, offense and defense, and carried on with their respective activity. I watched as the offensive players began to run routes and slants, but the receivers never caught the balls. However, it wasn't the receivers fault, it was the person throwing the balls.

I squinted my eyes to make out Brady O'Donell behind the poor passes, and feel my heart sink. Brady was the second string quarterback; the one that never played, because Vincent stole the spotlight. That boy may be infuriating, but he's an exceptional football player. Unfortunately, Vincent was likely going to be sitting out the game tomorrow night, which meant Brady would play.

"Fuck," I mutter when I realize that, all of this soon-to-be disaster, was my fault.

I look away to see Trevor and Max jogging over to me with their helmets off and dangling from their hands. They were both breathing heavily, and I tossed them their water bottles before they even reached me, which they chugged gratefully. When they were done, Trevor groaned and collapsed on the ground beside me.

"Practice just started, Trev," I raise my eyebrows at him. "Already tired?"

He pants, "You try doing these workouts for two and a half hours straight. It takes a lot out of a person."

I glance at Max, who is rolling his eyes at Trevor's dramatic delivery, and point to him. "Max is doing just fine, y'know."

Max grins at me. "I'm better at football than he is."

"No you're not," Trevor barks. "Who has more touchdowns?"

"Who has more fumbles?" Max retorts.

"Most receiving yards?"

"Most running yards?"

"More interceptions?"

"Boys," I interject their heated argument when I realize both of them are fuming. "Calm down, would you?"

Trevor mumbles something under his breath before dropping it, and his gaze sweeps over the field, stopping abruptly when he sees Vincent emerging from the locker room with his head down.

He whistles. "Vincent's sat out the game tomorrow night."

"O'Donnell is gonna make us lose," Max sighs and runs a hand through his sweaty hair, making it look even more disarray. "Bradshaw may be a dick, but he's damn good at football."

Trevor agrees, and I bite my lip in guilt. Vincent wouldn't be sat out tomorrow if he didn't bring me to the medic center earlier.

"I just wish he wasn't so cocky," Trevor mutters. "It gets him into trouble, and therefore puts us in trouble."

I continue to stay silent, but Trevor nudges me and raises his eyebrows.

"Are you deaf?" He questions seriously.

I frown. "No?"

"Because we're making fun of Vincent and you're not joining in," Trevor continues. "I thought that was your favorite pastime."

I shrug as an answer, and Trevor takes it as one, taking another long swig from his water bottle before saying goodbye and taking off for the field. Max, however, hesitates before leaving, eyeing my suspiciously.

"Do you like Bradshaw or something?" He blurts.

I feel my face contort in a look of disgust when he asks such a ridiculous thing. "You think I would ever like him?"

Max laughed heartily at my reaction. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Why are you acting weird then?"

I begin to panic at being questioned, but smoothly blame it on my passing out earlier. "Sorry, I'm still a little hazy. I fainted earlier and went to the medic center."

"Shit, Lil, are you okay?" He asks, his face quickly changing to concern.

I waved him off with a smile. "I'm fine now, thanks. Now go back to practice before it's you that Coach is sitting out next game."

He laughs, easily falling into my lie, and jogs away to rejoin the practice. As soon as he's gone, my smile drops, and I let out a breath. I was too good at lying, that's for sure. While I sat back and watched practice commence, and Brady O'Donnell fail time and time again, I tried to push away the guilt for being the reason for Vincent's game suspension.

But still, when I saw Vincent look at Brady longingly during practice, the guilt was right there.