Crossing the Barrier (2 page)

Malakai shook his head, looking down at the ground.

To say he didn’t like Zoe St. Claire was an understatement. Wes had been dating the popular rich girl since the previous March, right before spring training began, and Malakai didn’t envy his friend’s relationship one bit. Zoe had a temper and treated everyone like minions, including Wes. Malakai wasn’t even sure whether his friend liked the girl or was more in love with the thought of dating her.

One thing Malakai knew for sure: Zoe did not love Wes. He had figured out a long time ago that Zoe was with Wes because he was the most popular guy in school, and one of the few people who rivaled her own popularity.

As for Malakai, he had yet to meet someone who would make his heart beat faster, and he had promised himself he would never date a girl for her social status. He wanted someone who was kind, intelligent, and interesting, someone he could connect with on a deeper level.

“This doesn’t look good.”

Malakai looked up. David Jones, the team center, had joined him and was now leaning on the jeep, arms crossed. David, now a junior, was so big he had made varsity in his sophomore year, on the second-string offense. Right after the last spring training, Coach had made him part of the starting line, and Malakai had to admit, David was good.

Malakai had gotten to know the center over the summer when they both worked at a local pizza joint. He had been happy to have someone to spend time with since Wes had been all but available. David was funny and easygoing and had become a good friend.

“He’s supposed to be our captain, the example to follow. I’m not sure extreme PDA is something we had in mind when we elected him.”

Malakai could only agree.

“Besides, what the heck does he see in her?”

“If only I knew,” Malakai said, his voice rough. He coughed to clear his throat.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. You’re just the first person I’ve talked to in two days.”

“I wish it was the case for me,” David said with a chuckle. “My sister made so much noise when she got up at her insane early hour that we had a fight,” he continued, pointing with his chin toward a group of students who were sitting in the shade under the walkway covering.

Malakai remembered David telling him a few weeks earlier that his sister was in the marching band.

“What does she play again?” Malakai asked.

“Clarinet.”

He wondered if she was the petite brunette with gray eyes he had spotted in freshman year. He had loved hearing her solo the previous year when, after the homecoming game, Coach had made them watch the band perform. As he looked through the band members, he spotted her, sitting next to a tall blond girl.

“In any case, seems like the band dudes are having quite a laugh at Wes’s expense.”

Now that David mentioned it, Malakai saw quite a few members looking in Wes’s direction, pointing and laughing while commenting to one another.

“This has to stop,” David added, pushing away from the jeep and walking purposefully toward the kissing couple.

Malakai followed at a slower pace. Wes would not take kindly to the interruption, but David was right.

“You’ve got quite an audience there, dude,” David said once he reached Wes.

The couple stopped kissing and looked at David, dazed. David pointed toward the band members with his chin.

“Who cares what a bunch of geeks think?” Zoe said with a shrug.

“They might be band
members
, but they talk to other people, you know,” David said.

“What? Jealous, David?” Zoe said with a raised eyebrow. “Want some, too? Or are you too young for it yet?”

“Hell no! I’m getting enough just by looking at you two!”

Wes glanced at Malakai, his nostrils flaring, his hands gripping Zoe’s shirt with white knuckles. Malakai wasn’t surprised to see the quarterback was furious enough to hit someone.

“We better go,” Malakai said. He knew Wes couldn’t be reasoned with. “We’ll be late for practice.”

“Yeah, right. With half an hour to spare, I doubt that very much,” Zoe said, turning back to Wes and attacking his mouth with hers.

David shrugged and left. After a last glance at Wes, Malakai followed the center, wondering again what had happened to the boy who used to be his best friend.

“I tried,” David said, once they were inside the school, making their way to the gym.

“He’s changed,” Malakai said.

“I wouldn’t know. I didn’t know him very well until training last spring. But why was he chosen as captain? Dude, that just doesn’t make sense to me.”

Malakai shrugged, wondering if Wes would ever return to his old self again.

Chapter Three

MALAKAI

How could he
have been so…stupid?

Three days into training and he found a way to forget to set his alarm clock.

Speeding all the way to school, Malakai cursed a dozen times. It took three minutes less than usual for him to get there, and he took to the side street so fast he had the impression of turning on two wheels.

He hadn’t eaten breakfast. He hadn’t showered. All he had time to do was slip into the first clothes he saw, grab his backpack, which he had prepared the previous night, thankfully, and run like hell in hopes he would make it on time.

With two minutes to spare, he parked his jeep, slipped his bag on his shoulder, and ran to the school. He got to the entrance closest to the gym and pulled on the door handle.

Could things get any worse?

The door was locked. Of course no one was in the corridor to open it for him.

Cursing, Malakai banged on the door once, turned around, and ran to the entrance in the middle of campus.

One minute, thirty seconds. He would never make it on time.

The red brick school was enormous, almost half a mile long, to accommodate the three thousand five hundred students who attended it on a regular school day. It took ten minutes to walk from one end of the school to the other, and that was when the corridors were empty. At top speed, it took Malakai a complete minute to get to the middle door. He yanked it open, barely slowing down, and got inside.

Running inside the school was now his only option to keep the situation from going from bad to worse, but it was against school rules. On a regular day, it would get him in real trouble with Coach, but it was summer. No one would be around to witness his infraction.

How wrong he was.

He was going full speed when he saw her coming out of the girl’s restroom, head down, walking fast.

But it was too late.

He couldn’t stop in time.

As he tried to slow down, he collided with the petite brunette, who went flying backward and hit the row of lockers lined along the wall.

As Malakai came to a full stop, his blood turned cold.

“Are you okay?” he asked, going to her.

She wasn’t moving.

Horrified, he looked at her, and his mind was yanked to the past, back to his elementary school years, when he was ten and still lived in England. He had been playing soccer with his friend Robert on the front lawn of his house. It had all happened so fast: his kicking the ball toward the street between two parked cars, Robert and he running to catch it, his mom screaming his name, the car coming, the screeching noise, and the accident—the accident that had killed his friend.

And now, by his action, he had injured someone, again.

“Oh, bloody hell!” he said, kneeling next to the prone figure. “Wake up. Please, please wake up.”

She didn’t. She just lay there in a heap on the floor.

“Oh no,” Malakai said again, his heart racing. “Help!” he called, looking up and down the corridor. But nobody was around. It was summer after all. “Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was not the time to panic. He had to do something and do it fast. He couldn’t leave her here. He had to get her help. With his cell phone forgotten on the kitchen counter at home, he couldn’t call anyone.

Through the fury of his racing thoughts, Malakai remembered the trainer would be in his office adjacent to the locker room at this hour, and he would know what to do.

“Hold on,” he murmured.

He reached out and moved her long brown hair away from her very pale face. As a warm shiver ran down his spine, and a strange feeling of rightfulness crossed his heart, he recognized her. She was the clarinetist from the marching band, the cute one he had wanted to know since his freshman year.

Carefully, he put an arm under her shoulders and raised her upper body, setting her head on his shoulder. He then put his other arm behind her knees and got up. She was so light; she barely weighed anything.

In what felt like an eternity, Malakai finally made it to the locker room.

“I need help here,” he called, as he pushed the door open with his back.

“What happened?” Coach asked, quickly making his way to Malakai.

“I…I bumped into her.” Malakai barely recognized his own voice as it was so unusually high. “Is the trainer here?”

“Yes, the infirmary,” Coach answered, opening the door for Malakai. “All of you, to the weight room, now!” the man barked to the remaining players, leaving Malakai with the trainer.

“Trainer Smith,” Malakai called as he walked in.

The trainer turned around. “What happened?”

“I…I bumped into her. I think she hit her head really bad.”

“Put her on the table.”

Gently, Malakai set her down, making sure he didn’t aggravate her condition. She was so pale, so lifeless, Malakai found it hard to breathe.

“I…I didn’t know what to do,” he explained, winded. “I…I didn’t have my phone, and I know you said to never move an injured player but…I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Take a breath, Thomas; you did the right thing,” the trainer said, examining the girl on the table, then turning her on her side.

Malakai noticed the bloodstain on the table where her head had previously rested.

“Now go clean yourself.”

“But, but what about her?”

“I’ll call an ambulance and try to find out who she is,” he answered, walking to his desk and picking up the phone.

“She’s the girl who plays the clarinet solos in the band,” Malakai said. “I don’t know her name.”

“Is she now? Well, Thomas, mind getting one of your teammates so I can send him to the band director?” he asked as he dialed.

“I can go.”

“Not with that blood on your shirt you’re not,” the trainer said, pointing at Malakai’s chest. “Now get me someone and go change,” he said as he held the phone to his ear.

Malakai looked down at himself. Blood covered most of his shoulder. Quickly, he removed his shirt and balled it into his hands.

“Is she going to be okay?” he asked, his heart still racing as he looked at the prone figure again.

The trainer was now talking on the phone and didn’t answer.

After one last look at the girl, Malakai left the room to get a teammate.

Chapter Four

MALAKAI

“Thomas! Get your
head in the game!” Coach bellowed.

It was afternoon, and the team had moved from the weight room to the practice field.

Malakai’s thoughts kept drifting back to the unconscious musician and the death of his friend so many years ago. Thinking of all this brought back other memories, memories that were best left buried, especially when he was on the field.

“Thomas!” Coach yelled again when Malakai dropped the next pass. “Here! Now!”

Malakai ran to Coach. He was going to get it, and in all honesty, he deserved it.

“Thomas, get your head in the game,” Coach hissed. “Stop thinking about that girl and get your head in it. That’s when we recognize the pros from the amateurs and now you’re showing us all that you’re only an amateur. You’re letting me down, and you’re letting your teammates down,” he said, pointing at his chest, then at the rest of the team on the field.

Malakai snapped up his head, another image better left forgotten flashing in his mind: his mom disappearing shortly after the accident that killed his friend, letting him down when he needed her the most.

“Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir!” Malakai said loud enough for his teammates to hear.

“Go then. Show us what you’re made of.”

Blood pounding in his ears, Malakai went back to the field and took his position, his eyes fixed on the quarterback. He wouldn’t let his teammates down, and he wouldn’t let that girl down. He promised himself to do right by her and, the moment he was done with practice, he would find her and make sure she was all right.

After the team had spent two hours of running around the field, catching balls, Coach finally called it a day.

“Thomas, a moment,” he called, right after he dismissed the rest of the team.