Page 74 of Shade
Do you think I did that?
In the interview, I can tell just by looking at my face, I’m high on adrenaline but still dumb enough to say something stupid when the announcer says to me, “Shade, the media has been going on and on about you being on a downward spiral. There’s been a lot of talk that your performance is being affected by the recent difficulties in your personal life. Looks like you’ve moved on with no problem even after the recent suicide of your childhood friend, Rhya Morgan.”
Let’s just pause here. I’ll even pause the video. Let me ask you something. . . how would you respond to that question?
You’d say, fuck you, right? Or is it just me?
Not only did he insult my performance, but he also brought up Rhya.
I push Play again.
Do you see my face? Do you notice the way my knuckles tighten around the helmet in my hand? Do you notice the way it takes every ounce of control I have not to knock him the fuck out for what he just said?
I notice, even now, even a day later, and I don’t see how Willa or Dan would have a problem with what I’m about to say.
“Moved on?” I laugh and throw my helmet on the ground like a spoiled brat. Maybe throwing the helmet could have been done without, but I do it anyway. And then I add, rather smugly, “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
I don’t see a problem with what I did. At all.
