Page 137 of Like a Power Play
“Mom.”
“You can hide it from the team, but you can’t hide it from me. I know you’ve been struggling more than you’re showing.”
I let out a heavy sigh, pouring the cider into the cups. I’ve been trying really hard to ignore the pain. And when that’s not possible, I’ve been doing everything I can to push through it. I made it to winter break, which means I have a week’s rest before I’m supposed to meet up with Peyton again.
“I’m okay, Mom,” I say. “Really.”
My mom shakes her head. “That’s what you said last time.”
“Okay,” I say pointedly. “Fair. But really, I’m okay. See?” I gesture to myself, proud at how well I hide the wince. “I’m resting.”
Mom doesn’t budge. “You’re not stepping on the ice at practice again until you get a doctor’s note clearing you.”
“What?” I ask, brows furrowing. “But that’s not fair! You’re the one who wanted me to—”
“And I still do,” Mom cuts in, swiping one of the mugs off the counter. “But I’m not going to watch you ignore all these warning signs again. You’re not invincible, Darce. You can and will get worse.”
My throat goes dry, a hard aching lump forming in the base of it.
“I know,” I mumble. She lets out a heavy sigh, pulling me into a hug. It’s gentle, careful. Mom knows how to hug me without hurting me, because once upon a time, she was me. The only difference is that she got treated in time to go into remission.
I look down at her, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. “Can you schedule the appointment please? I really hate calling.”
Mom chuckles softly against me, then pulls back.
“I already did last week. It’s on the 27th at four.”
“Such a meddler,” I mumble, and she gives a half-shrug.
“It’s my job.” Both of her brows raise, and something in my stomach twists. I know that look. I’m scared of that look. “Speaking of meddling,” she continues, leaning her back against the counter. She blows on the cider, then takes a long sip. “Have you talked to Peyton since the game?”
Ah fuck.
I hate lying to my mom. I’m also notoriously bad at it. So I tell her the amount of the truth I can manage. “Yes,” I say slowly, studying her. She smirks. “And I have no idea why you’re looking at me like that.”
Mom deadpans. “Oh really? You have ‘no idea’?”
I roll my eyes, failing to fight a smile. “It’s not what you think.”
”And what do I think?”
I don’t dignify her with a response. I just roll my eyes and snatch up the extra mugs on the counter, a limp in my step as I move.
“You know, it’s not against the rules!” Mom calls out behind me. Something in my chest flutters, and I blink away the surprise before turning to look at her. The Christmas lights strung along the window behind her give her a multi-color glow.
“Doesn’t matter, because nothing is going on.”
Of course, that would have an effect on the situation, if there were a situation for it to have an effect on. But Peyton established that boundary, and so did I. I turn back around, but my mom is relentless. “Peyton is a lovely girl!”
This time, I don’t stop. “So I’ve heard,” I call back, pretending like I haven’t spent the past few weeks living it.
I’m back at the apartment, two hours into doom-scrolling on the couch, animated Christmas movies flickering quietly on the TV. Cleo’s head is resting in my lap, fast asleep, swimming in the plaid pajamas my parents gifted her. Innocently curled up on her legs, Socks is acting like I didn’t have to fend him off from chewing her hair a few minutes ago.
My phone chimes, a banner flashing across the top of the screen.
ICARUS
Hey Kim Possible
