“What are you going to say to him?” Brian asked me.

He was out of breath, his legs eating up the distance on the treadmill. His shirt was soaked with sweat down his back, chest and under his arms.

I had just stopped running on my own treadmill. We were at the Sharks’ Training Facility at Nova Southeastern University. It was the home of the Sharks and the one place I could escape from everything and get lost in the game.

At least, it used to be like that. Lately, it didn’t feel like much of an escape if the game itself had been removed.

“I’ll see what he has to say to me, first,” I said. “Then I’ll take it from there.”

I found a water bottle in my bag and sucked the cold liquid down. I was about to see Coach for our chat, and as much as I hated to admit it even to myself, I was nervous.

Wednesdays weren’t usually gym days for me, but cardio always released tension, and extra fitness never hurt. Besides, I wanted to show Coach that I was serious about my game.

Even though I’d been suspended for six games, a lot more than I deserved for what had happened, I’d kept up with my training and diet regimen. Apart from binge drinking now and then. But when that happened, I’d train harder the next time to work off the empty calories I’d picked up.

“Don’t get cocky with him. You know he’s going to see what you’re like, and your position on the team could be affected by your attitude.”

“Thanks, Brian,” I said sarcastically. “I forgot how perfect you are.”

Brian didn’t respond. His chest rose and fell as he panted, finishing off his run with a full sprint. When he finally stopped the treadmill, he was shaking his head.

“Don’t be a dick about it,” he said, breathing hard. “You know what I mean.”

He put his hands on his hips and tipped his head backward. His sandy hair was drenched with sweat, which made it look darker.

“I need a shower before I talk to Coach,” I said.

We picked up our bags and headed to the locker room together. I did a quick rinse before I wrapped a towel around my hips and walked to my locker. The locker room was one of my favorite places to be, and it had become a home away from home because of how much time we spent in it.

Large lockers reached up higher than we were tall, and gray carpet stretched from wall to wall. The locker room was huge and filled with half-naked men, confident enough in their own skins not to care. Like me, they were world class athletes who were fit and athletic, with no reason to feel anything but pride about their bodies.

I put my bag on the bench in front of my locker and pulled on slacks, a shirt, and a vest. My arms and back were still wet, making darker marks on the material.

“You’re going to speak to him dressed like that?” Brian asked.

I looked down at myself. “What?”

I thought he had to be kidding, but he looked serious.

Brian shrugged. “Well, if I was having a meeting with Coach about my future, I would have worn a suit.”

I snorted. “It’s a chat with Coach, not a press conference.”

Brian shrugged.

“Nice to see you around here, Bell,” Mark Graham said, walking past. His tone was slightly sarcastic.

I shook my head. I’d been in here every day I had to train. Everyone knew that, including Mark.

“I’m just saying this meeting is important,” Brian said, still on the same topic.

“Right. Well, I’ve got this. Coach can’t afford to lose me.”

“I bet he won’t miss your arrogance,” Dwayne Burton said. He stopped at the bench.

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for that,” I said to him.

Dwayne shrugged. He looked down at my bag and pushed it off the bench. It was still unzipped. A few of my things fell out.

I was getting angry.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I yelled.

I was sick of their elementary playground antics and snide remarks.

Dwayne turned his back on me and walked away like that wasn’t the stupidest thing to do to a hothead like me.

“Just let it go,” Brian said.

He picked up my water bottle and put it into his own bag. They all knew I loved that water bottle because when I found it at REI I had let them know how awesome it was. It could keep hot liquids hot and cold liquids cold, and could be attached to a bag with a carabiner.

They had teased me back then for continually talking about it so much, but it had all been in good fun. This was something altogether different.

“They’re fucking with me,” I said.

I was reeling. Anger boiled beneath my skin.

“Yeah, so they’re being dicks. So what? Just imagine how happy Coach will be to see you after you picked a fight in the locker room.”

I groaned. He was right, of course. Usually I would knock Dwayne upside the head for his stupid stunt. But right now I knew it wouldn’t do me any good at all.

I kneeled, and Brian helped me gather my shit up and put it back in the bag. When I stood again, I took a deep breath. The team members glanced at me, unwilling to miss a show. I wasn’t going to give them one.

But I was going to get my favorite water bottle back. On my way past Dwayne, I reached into his bag and grabbed it. He started to protest, stepping forward as if he was going to be the one to throw the first punch.

Just do it, I willed him, wanting him to strike first so that I could get my revenge on him while also claiming self defense to Coach. But he glared at me and stepped back. He knew I would have the upper hand in any fight that might ensue between us.

Fuck, I thought, but then I reasoned with myself that it was for the best. I had my beloved water bottle and he didn’t have a broken nose. Nor did I have one more thing to add to the list of why Coach was mad at me.

It still ate at me that my teammates thought it was okay to treat me this way, though. I vowed to teach them some respect as soon as I was off probation. I headed out of the locker room, forcing myself to rein in my anger.