Todos los capítulos de My Pathetic Obsession With The Hockey Boy : Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 39

CherylI spent most of the afternoon rehearsing what I was going to say, running through it the way I used to run through interview questions before a session with Carlson. I tried to anticipate every direction the conversation could turn before it actually turned there.None of the rehearsals prepared me for how heavy the list felt in my hands once I pulled it out.Four facilities, narrowed down from a dozen, each one vetted for confidentiality policies, admission speed, and distance from campus. It was the kind of research I usually reserved for breaking down an opponent's power play. I printed it instead of leaving it digital, because something about handing him an actual piece of paper felt more honest than sliding a laptop screen toward him."I made a list," I said, setting it on his desk, my hands not quite steady. "Rehab programs. I looked into discretion policies specifically, places that won't leak to press or scouts. I found four that could take you fast, and two of them hav

CherylHis heartbeat was slower than mine, steady under my palm in a way that made the whole room feel quieter than it actually was. I lay there listening to it long after either of us said anything, trying to memorize the rhythm of it like it might disappear if I stopped paying attention.I spent two years writing versions of this in a journal I never meant anyone to find. They were elaborate fantasies built out of longing and desperation, every detail imagined and polished and completely wrong. The real thing didn't match a single page of it. It was nothing like the practiced, choreographed intimacy I invented out of loneliness.It was better. Messier, more honest, both of us reaching for something that had nothing to do with performance and everything to do with survival. It was two people terrified in different directions finding a few hours where the fear didn't win. I hadn't felt safe like this in longer than I could remember, not the fragile, conditional safety I learned to exp

CherylI didn't decide to run to the rink. My feet just carried me there, the way they always did, drawn by some old, worn groove in me that still equated that particular sheet of ice with the only kind of safety I ever fully trusted.The building was locked for the night. I knew the side door by the equipment bay stuck if you leaned into it the right way, a trick I learned years ago filming late practices nobody else wanted to stay for. I let myself in and climbed up into the bleachers. The metal bit cold through my jeans as I sat there in the dark, pulling my knees tight to my chest.The tears came before I even fully settled, quiet at first, then rolling out of control. My whole body shook with the effort of holding two years, maybe my whole life, of accumulated hurt behind a composure that had finally, completely given out.My father's silence kept replaying in my head, louder than anything Celeste actually said. I expected her outburst. I expected the accusation, the tears, the f

CherylI felt it before I understood it: the particular shift in the air that happens when you become the subject of something you don't yet know exists. Conversations died as I passed. Heads turned. A girl near the fountain lifted her phone and angled it my way before quickly lowering it when she caught me noticing.My stomach knotted. An old, familiar dread rose before I had a single piece of information to justify it.I had not checked my phone since last night. After the family meeting, after the rink, after Dylan walked me most of the way home before I insisted I could manage the rest alone, I fell into bed too exhausted to do anything but sleep, my phone forgotten face-down on the nightstand."Cheryl."Amara's voice cut through the noise of the quad. I turned to see her jogging toward me, her face pale in a way that made my chest tighten before she said another word. She grabbed my arm the second she reached me, pulling me slightly off the main path. Her eyes scanned the crowd