༺ TWENTY - FOUR ༻

"Have you got results from the hospital yet?" Mom asks Newt at dinner, as I'm just pricking my fork around my plate.

He nods. "Yeah. There's an operation they could do but that means I won't be able to move properly for weeks until it's healed. Besides, it's bloody expensive."

Sonya looks up, her eyes pleading. "But if all that means you won't have a limp, wouldn't it be worth it?"

Newt shrugs, clearly not very interested in the offer Vince gave him. "As you said, I'd be able to skip PE, if I had it."

I want to jump in and encourage Newt to just do it, but I don't think having three people pushing him toward it will make him happy, so I leave it. After all, my head hurts a bit, and we're still gonna bowl in an hour. Better not waste any energy.

"It's your choice, of course, you'll be turning twenty, but think it through," Dad insists. He gives his oldest son a hopeful look. "Things will be easier, Newt. Your Mom and I wouldn't mind paying for the surgery."

But Newt shakes his head. "I don't want it. No need to waste money."

We leave it. That's something I'm grateful for. Often, my family knows when to stop before it turns into an argument. We all lose our temper sometime, but you get it.

"We're going bowling, by the way," Newt announces, his eyes on me. "Rose, Minho, Thomas, Teresa, maybe Aris, and I."

Sonya gasps. "Can I come with you guys?"

Well, if Minho and Newt are going to come it for sure isn't a double date unless they have something going on and turn it into a triple date, so I don't really care.

"Sure," I say.

"But we have to leave in a few minutes, so hurry up," Newt warns, swallowing away his last bits of food. Sonya quickly does the same, and all eyes are suddenly on me and my full plate, of which not a single bite has been taken.

"It's my second plate," I lie. Come on, skipping one dinner can't hurt. Just because of the circumstances. We have to hurry. "So don't worry," I add as I get up. "Let's go!"

But Sonya has to go to the toilet first. In that time, I drink and drink and drink water until my stomach is no longer empty and hurtful, but the water still doesn't leave a full feeling. It feels hollow, especially when I move. But I can't ruin all my progress now. Janson hasn't said anything else yet, so it's perfect, honestly.

Soon, we're sitting in the car. Newt behind the wheel, me next to him, and Sonya on the backseat. The loud music overtops my howling stomach, and once Sonya starts singing, I have no worries at all.

The drive is about twenty five minutes, since the bowling club is across from Mamma Mia, and we arrive soon. Unfortunately, I haven't spotted a certain guy who usually opens doors for me, so I do it myself, and groan as I do so.

"What?" Newt is still turning the radio off while I push, but is now giving me a weird look.

"It's heavy," I mutter, then open the door with a harder push. My muscles and bones are weak after the nonstop dancing. Happens sometimes. "Let's go, Newt!"

Yet eventually, I'm the last one to leave the car, because the second I step out, my head is pounding and I have to hold onto the car trying not to fall as strange dots dance around my eyes.

Shaking my head, I recover, then follow Newt and Sonya through the dark.

✵

I swallow the urge to fully kiss Thomas away before I hug him, his arms tightening around my body in a way that for sure doesn't make this a type of hug you give a friend.

"I missed you," he says quietly, so the rest can't hear.

I smile. "I missed you, too. Any good at bowling?"

"A pro," Thomas assures. I can hear the grin on his face. "And you?"

"I think I'm decent at it," I reply.

We order some drinks after everyone greeted each other (Aris is here, too), then sit down while Newt types our names in on the device.

"I'm a master," Minho says, stretching his arms over the chairs beside him, some veins appearing as he tenses like that.

Thomas scoffs. "Bet I'm better than you?"

Minho raises a challenging eyebrow. "What're we betting for?"

"Well, since you're so sure you'll win, that won't really matter, will it?" Teresa looks at them.

Neither of them get the chance to reply: someone puts our drinks down, along with a bowl full of warm snacks, like chicken nuggets.

My mouth waters, so I avert my eyes to Teresa, who's now staring at Aris with a dreamy look. It's entertaining enough to watch them give each other secret glares for a while, until we finally start bowling (Minho and Thomas wasted ten minutes bickering about nothing).

Minho is the first to roll the ball.

Strike.

Thomas throws his head back and I laugh once Minho gives him a triumphant glare.

That glare gets even prouder when Thomas throws a spare, because he missed one pin on his first roll.

"Still wanna bet?" Minho nudges him in the shoulder. He pops a chip in his mouth, smiling.

Thomas crosses his arms. "Of course. One strike doesn't mean you're better than me."

"You have exactly an hour and a half to prove that," Newt says. "So better hurry up. No need to waste time."

It's my turn after Aris got seven from the ten pins. My hands search for the right ball. I know I've always used ten pounds in the past, but it feels way too heavy right now. I'll live with six pounds.

"I thought dancers had muscles." Minho chuckles. "No offense."

I give him a laugh, but Thomas doesn't. His mouth opens, but I interrupt, "So that means that if I get a strike with six pounds, it'll be even better than if you get a strike with fourteen pounds?"

The Asian leans back in his seat. "There's one way to find out, Frenzy."

I smile again, then roll the ball with all the force I have in me.

Strike.

It surprises both me and Minho. With decent, I meant around seven pins each turn, not an immediate strike the first time.

Beginners luck?

I laugh brightly at Minho's face as I sit down next to Thomas, who raises an eyebrow.

"You're supposed to seem bad so I can teach you," he says, eyes twinkling.

"Or you can pretend you're bad, so I can reach you," I shoot back. My elbow hits his side. "Maybe not even pretend."

He pulls a face. "Since when did you become so mean?"

"If you think that's mean, you should never involve murder into something again." I chuckle, and it takes something to not do it in his shoulder. "Ah, Newt's turn."

He gets nine pins at the first roll, then zero. Almost a spare.

Minho's still smirking, clearly way too proud of his achievements.

"You know, the urge to just sabotage those fourteen pounds..." Teresa murmurs in my ear. "To watch Minho lose, man."

I smile at the thought.

Thomas gets another spare and sits back down with a disturbed face.

"Ah, this is sad. Alexa, play Despacito." Minho slams his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Come on, heads up, T. You have an awesome best friend. Be grateful."

I stand up to take my turn, quietly snickering at Minho. My hand reaches for the six pounds, but my name gets called.

Well, a nickname.

"Frenzy!" Minho takes a sip of his drink, whatever that alcohol based thing that is. "I wanna see if you can handle the ten pounds!"

I can handle fifteen.

Ha...!

Anyway-

I lift the ball up, even thought my bones are screaming. In the first few seconds, it feels like they're made from elastic and anything that's not strong, but I soon get used to the weight.

Yet I only get three pins.

Scratching my back, I shrug at Minho, and take my place.

"I can help you," Sonya insists. "I got more than seven pins every time!"

I nod, agreeing—

"I can help," Thomas interferes. "In fact, I've got two spares."

Minho leans closer to the three of us. "And I've got two strikes. Better if I help, isn't it?"

Okay, but Thomas's face is bloody hilarious right now.

He's not always good at hiding his emotions, I notice.

I shrug again, not sure what to do. It'll make things obvious if I agree to Thomas's help instead of Minho's, but it feels weird to get help from my boyfriend's best friend..?

Whatever. It's just some help at throwing a ball.

"I don't mind who helps," I end up saying. "But I'll be fine with the six pounds, too."

Minho pouts. "You don't have to lift Aris up at ballet? Or is he three pounds—"

"I have to lift her up." Aris, the usually quiet guy, rolls his eyes. "Use the brain, Minho."

"His is full of hair gel," Sonya says, grinning.

Minho's look shoots daggers at her. "Babyface."

Her mouth opens a bit. "Idiot!"

"Dumb blonde."

"Potato in clothes."

And just like that, they exchange insults until Minho's up for the third time.

Spare. Also good. Thomas gets a strike, which only makes it harder for me to hold back any romantic interactions. 'Cause he looks bloody good while doing this.

"You'll have a better chance to throw a strike if you take the ten pounds," Minho encourages. Though he's all sassy about winning, I can see he's really trying to help, too. "But I mean, if it's too heavy..."

Ten. Freaking. Pounds.
I'm eighteen years old. A full time dancer. I do workouts all the time. And find it hard to lift ten pounds up?

Minho offers his drink. "Need a sip? Better than water, if ya wanna have a fun night."

I shake my head. "No, thank you."

"Hey!" Newt claps in his hands. "We don't have all the time in the world. Hurry!"

"Chicken nuggets for energy?" He tries, but I refuse again. Then, I grip both of my hands around the ten pound ball and allow Minho to instruct how to roll it.

It works. Sort of. I got six pins now. Yet I can do better using the six pound ball, so I'll stick with that.

Thomas's hand touches my shoulder for just a second. "You alright?" With concern written over his face, he raises his eyebrows.

I nod. "Just..." A sigh leaves my mouth. "...disappointed I can't properly lift ten simple pounds."

He smiles. Somehow, he manages to keep his eyes on me while he grabs the bowl of food. "To give you strength." Thomas cracks a weird smile. "Try it before Minho shoves everything down his throat."

I shake my head, and that hurts. "I had a big dinner."

Lie.

"Just one," Thomas pleads, but it doesn't sound urging or anything. For a second, I believe it's just us here, which sounds crazy.

I try not to look at the food too much, but the smell starts interfering and I can't hold myself back. Quickly, I take a chicken nugget and take a bite.

So good.

But so wrong.

And Thomas's smile is so nice and real.

Mine's so fake.
"Nice?" He asks.

My nod is mixed with a shake of my head. "Great. It's really nice."

"Then you should totally take one more!" I'm surprised when Teresa is the one to push the bowl in my hands.

I want to but I can't and if I will then I'll regret it but then I'll feel less weak but also so guilty and I can't but I want to and I—

I take another one. As if I'm trapped. They're not looking at me like I'm forced to eat it, but I know I'll disappoint them if I stop. And I know they must know.

I scoff at my own thoughts. I know that they know what? That I'm following a diet for a while?

I've eaten four chicken nuggets once it's my turn again. My stomach feels overloaded as I walk. The calories are probably rushing through my body and producing fat right now. My stomach is already bloating. My work of the last three days will be gone by just three chicken nuggets.

I throw the ball with a sickening feeling in my stomach. It's both the thoughts of what I just did and the fact I'm ruining things for myself, and I know that if I seem unhappy, Newt for sure will notice and he might get unhappy too.

"I'm going to the bathroom," I tell them after I hit eight pins. My walk speeds up because my thoughts do too. My mind's spinning and overthinking is making me crazy by rethinking everything that could happen and how many weight I could be gaining in this time.

Not for longer, though. It's all in the toilet a few seconds later. I didn't even have to use my fingers. The thoughts of gaining anything were so disgusting that it just happened.

I throw three pills from the package I don't remember bringing in my mouth, drink some water, and return to do my best to have a cheerful night.

"Just on time for your turn!" Minho relieves himself from his friends. Three seconds ago, they were quietly talking in some kind of circle. "I'll help, and Thomas will, too."

I manage a small smile at the kindness. "Why? I'm alright with the six pound—"

"Alright. Then you throw with this one." Thomas hands me the ball with a soft smile. "You got it, Blondie."

"Woop woop, Frenzy!"

I sigh, but chuckle as I roll the ball. It lands right in the middle, and knocks over all ten pins.

Minho and Thomas both start cheering as if I've done something magical. It's so ridiculous that I start laughing at their jumps and bro hugs, and so does Newt, who's definitely watching from close by.

Then, Teresa helps Aris with bowling. The way they look at each other and barely have time to focus on the ball says enough, and we can all see it.

I hope Thomas and I aren't like that. Well, I do, but not if that means Newt will find out.

Still, we will have to tell him one day. I might as well prepare.

There's a loud thud, followed by the sounds of glass shattering into pieces and a yelp. I flinch at the sudden sound, but everything's okay once I see it's just someone who dropped their tray and glass.

"Rose," it sounds like a warning. My head snaps to Sonya, and she points at Thomas.

He's gone silent. Stares into the distance a bit. His hand loosens around mine, and he's no longer smiling that brightly.

It was when I was holding a glass with ice cubes and everything. I dropped it. The shattering sound repeat in my ears as if it was a slowmotion scene in a movie, and I felt that coldness splash up my body. I panicked. It all reminded me of what happened on the rink.

His own words.

I squeeze Thomas's hand. "It's alright, Thomas," I lower my voice. He'd probably prefer less people to know about this. Just gotta get him out of this trance. "It's just someone who dropped their glass. We're not on the rink. It's okay."

He blinks a few times as I keep squeezing his hand. His head moves, eyebrows furrowing. "I didn't faint, did I?"

I shake my head, my smile a mix of worry and happiness because things aren't getting worse. "You didn't. Just zoned out for a few seconds. Are you alright?"

Thomas nods. "I'm okay. Just got reminded of it..." He shudders. "Anyway, let's continue bowling. Minho, what's your score again?"