“Don’t push his leg like that,” Tommy cuts in, glaring at Mark.
“That one is fine, Tommy,” I point out. I meet his eyes, wishing for him to cool off a little bit. I wonder if this how he feels when I pick fights with Mark. No…because Tommy never intervenes; he only backs me up.
Not to mention, it simply isn’t necessary to remind Mark to be careful of my leg. He has been extremely conscientious of it since he saw my prosthetic.
“Guys, hi, um,” Louis says, his voice chipper. “Are you okay to play together now?”
Bethany stands at his side, an eyebrow raised at Mark and then at me. I read the question in her eyes:you’re not going to kick him in the face?
I am very happy not to do so.
“I’m comfy,” Mark replies, resting his chin on my knee. His gaze sinks sideways to Tommy, regarding him like a feline lying in wait.
Tommy stares back like a bulldozer. Neither will do anything, not with my prosthetic leg literally between them.
Louis looks between us all, frowning, but I can see the gears ticking behind Bethany’s eyes.
“Go on,” I encourage. “You’ll let the team down if you sit it out.”
Both Tommy and Mark respond, reluctantly making their way to the court. Their rejoining of the team doesn’t last long, as they trip each other up several times—clearly on purpose on both sides—and the coach subs them out for each other during the matches to keep things civil.
“How are they worse than you are with Mark?” Bethany asks incredulously. Tommy shoulder-checks Mark as they swap out, and Mark retraces his steps to shoulder-check Tommy into the bench.
“It’s the world’s stupidest pissing match,” Sebastian remarks, watching the action with disapproval.
“Is this what I usually look like?” I ask.
“No,” Bethany tells me. “You prod at Mark until he’s wound up enough that everyone’s scared he’ll knock you out, so they step in. It’swarwhen you’re involved. This is just…”
“Pissing match,” Sebastian finishes her sentence.
“Guys are stupid,” Bethany says in agreement.
I make a noise of objection in my throat. “We’re both guys, Beth.”
“And I’ve seen just how ridiculous you are, Kyle. Although your friend here seems half-decent.”
I’m a little offended by Bethany’s remark. Nobody else is getting involved in Tommy and Mark’s scrap, and her remark makes it sound like my friends would get involved in minebecause they didn’t think I was a match for Mark. A moment of clarity tells me they were correct because even before I lost weight, I wasn’t as built as Mark. Quicker on my feet, maybe. Able to pack a punch? No. Not that I’d ever actually tried to punch Mark. I’ve cursed at him, shoved him, knocked him out of his canoe until he dragged me out of mine—but I’d never taken a swing at him. And he’s never taken a swing at me, either. And he’s also never accidentally-on-purpose shoved me into the wall, like he’s just done to Tommy.
Tommy tackles Mark and grappling ensues. The team descends with more exasperation than worry. Eddie watches on from the sidelines and I see that he is the one Bethany is focused on.
I lick my lips, thinking of her giving out to him earlier. “Did Eddie mention his older brother to you?” My tongue dries so quick that my voice doesn’t really come out.
Bethany frowns my way. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly.
Sebastian casts me a curious look. “Are you not going to step in?”
“Step in and what? It’s one-on-one. It’s bad manners to step in on a fair fight,” I tell him.
“Guys.” Bethany sighs, exasperated. “Step in and stop them punching each other, Kyle. Your friend is down there getting beaten up. Don’t you want to help him?”
They’re getting pulled apart now, anyway. Though I understand Bethany’s question.
“I was always told to let scraps like that resolve themselves,” I say.
“By who?”
