This is My Message to You

Indigo

INDIGO

Soccer wasn't a possibility all summer, and even by fall of senior year, the doctors were reluctant to let me do anything too difficult, which included practice. When September rolled around, I was forced to face the facts and began to look into colleges that didn't solely revolve around a soccer scholarship.

After several months, you learn to deal with stuff. Even stuff like a debilitating injury that took you away from your favorite sport for good. I enjoyed most of senior year even though I missed soccer like crazy as I watched my teammates play from the sideline, working as the team manager so that I could still be a part of it somehow.

Connor was suspended from the soccer team at the start of senior year. Rumor had it he'd been involved in some drug problem at the end of summer, though they couldn't prove anything, so after a few weeks, they allowed him to return to the team.

He didn't come back right away.

I remember watching the guys' soccer practices from our soccer fields and wondering why Connor wasn't showing off his skills to the freshmen. Once I asked him about it, in one of those few moments that we actually had a one-on-one conversation, but he shrugged it off and said something about homework and college, which I knew was bullshit because, please, this was Connor.

"I've heard his parents have been on his case about school," Grace told me, in on the gossip as usual because of her soccer player boyfriend. "Maybe that's why."

But since when had Connor listened to his parents? Besides, I knew they hadn't wanted him to quit soccer. And I knew the night he informed them that he was.

I was leaving my house, my backpack slung over my shoulder and my phone pressed to my ear as I assured Grace that, yes, I would be at her place in ten minutes to help her with physics. As I walked toward my car, I glanced back at Connor's house to see living room lights blazing in the window while raised voices streamed through the screen door.

"Connor's pissed off his parents again," I told Grace, laughing a little, like I thought it was funny or something.

"That guy, I swear. He needs to figure out his life before college."

"One day his parents are gonna cut him off and he's gonna be screwed, I'm pretty sure."

We both laughed about it a lot senior year, I remember, mostly because I felt bad for always bitching to Grace about Connor's angsty teen problems so I made a joke of it. That evening, I rolled my eyes as usual as I passed Connor's house, said goodbye to Grace, and hung up the phone as I reached my car.

I'd just dumped my backpack in the backseat when Connor's front door flew open, the flimsy screen door slamming against the brick and flapping wildly as Connor stormed out of his house. His dark hair had gotten long, I remember, because it covered his face in a complete disarray so that I couldn't see his expression as he ripped open the door of his truck and leaped up into the driver's seat.

"Not my problem," I muttered to myself and slipped into my own car.

As I reached across the dashboard to switch on the radio, I heard Connor's truck's engine revving noisily and then a screech of tires on the road. I glanced up just in time to see him back out of his driveway at full speed, attempt to break, and then smash into the telephone pole that stood on the other side of the road.

"Connor!"

I didn't even bother to grab my keys, just surged out of my car and sprinted toward Connor's truck as fast as I could with my stupid knee. He sat slumped forward in his seat, his head resting against the steering wheel, and I remember real, pounding fear in my chest as I tore open the door of his truck and shook his shoulders.

"Connor, are you okay? Connor –"

His head popped up and he shook me away from him, looking at me like I'd gone crazy.

"I'm fine, Riley, what is your problem?"

"My problem? Connor, you just smashed your truck into that pole!"

He cast a glance over his shoulder, wincing as he saw the telephone pole. "I'm fine, chill, I didn't hit it that hard. Can you get lost now?"

I didn't move, even as he glared at me and tried to push me away, and he let out a frustrated noise, letting his forehead rest against the steering wheel again as he folded his hands behind his neck. His Bob Marley CD played softly from the stereo, contrasting the tension in the air. My knee began to throb, so I leaned against his truck and looked at him.

"What's going on, Connor?"

"You can – it's none of your business, okay?"

"When you go around smashing up my cell reception, it is my problem, bro."

He didn't smile, just closed his eyes. "I'm quitting soccer."

"What?" I couldn't imagine anything he could've said that would have surprised me more. "Did they make you quit? I thought your charges were cleared."

"I chose to quit, Ri."

That threw me. Connor equaled soccer in my mind, ever since that day when we were five and he appeared in mud and cleats and that big smile. I'd played more hours of soccer with him than with anyone else, even the girls on my team.

"Why would you do that?"

He shook his head against the steering wheel.

"Connor –"

"Seriously, Riley, it's not a big deal." He lifted his head, his gaze moving distractedly through the windshield across the street. "I don't need you to tell me this is a bad idea or whatever. My parents couldn't talk me out of it, and neither can you. So just get lost."

My temper flared then, and I told him some things that I probably shouldn't have and that most likely didn't help his case at all. But he just sat there and let me say them, and when I finally shut up, he said, "Are you done?" and started his engine again.

Normal Connor would have sassed me back to piss me off more, or gotten angry too and argued back for hours. I didn't recognize this new, sullen Connor.

Don't worry 'bout a thing... 'cause every little thing's gonna be all right.

"I'm done," I said and stepped away from his truck.

He jerked his truck into gear and tore off down the street, and I drove to Grace's house and taught her torque equations, and neither of us ever talked about that moment again.

Actually, we didn't talk that much at all for quite a while.

After all, it was none of my business.