I couldn’t look anyone in the eye in the locker room, least of all Hector, who sat on a bench staring blankly into space as if someone had just tortured something cute and fluffy in front of his eyes. Not even bothering to shower, I changed my clothes and got out of there as fast as possible. I passed Coach on my way out, ignoring him as he began to spout off some life-affirming platitude. I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want to talk to anybody.
I really didn’t want to talk to Zoe Francis, a girl in one of my classes that I had had a major crush on for about five months and whom my best friend Gary had been dating for a little over three.
“Rough game, Zack,” she said as I exited the building.
“Gary’ll be out in a sec, Zoe,” I said automatically, not bothering to stop my self-forced march towards the parking lot and the crowd undoubtedly waiting to tar and feather me.