Chapter 23: Twenty Two

An hour later, things were looking up.  I'd been patched up, the startlingly large cut above my eye treated with a single stich.  I'd been cleared of a concussion, told that I needed a day's rest and I would be right as rain.  I'd been given some pain pills, which had certainly taken the edge off.  Now I lay with an icepack held to my head, on the verge of drifting off to sleep.

A knock at the door woke me up from a nap I wasn't aware I was having.  I inched to a sitting position, looking to my left.  My blood ran cold as I saw Lance standing at the doorway, a sorrowful expression on his face.

"Hey," he greeted.  I didn't reply, instead just glared at him.  He cleared his throat.  "I'm so sorry, Beck, seriously.  I didn't mean to hit you at all... obviously."  He attempted a chuckle, but my sense of humour was gone.  "Look, it was an accident and I feel horrible about it."

"Kind of ironic," I mumbled.  "You know, how you have it out for me and then you hit me over the head with a weight."

His face fell, but only for a moment.  "I don't have it out for you."

"Bullshit."  Lying back down, I stared at the ceiling.  "Look, the least you can do is admit it, Lance."

"What are you—"

"I get this was an accident and I appreciate the apology, but you're a dick to me and you know it."

The confession startled me.  I hadn't been expecting to say anything to Lance – at any stage – but this accident, if I was willing to call it that, had pushed me over the edge.  Lance hated me, Lance was rude to me, Lance was rude to Mason, Lance hit me over the head with a weight, and Lance needed to know I was sick of his shit.

When he didn't speak for a while, I assumed he'd left.  But then I heard the sound of a chair pulling up next to me.  I resisted the urge to groan out loud.

"I won't lie and say you're my favourite person here, Rebecca."  I tried to hold back my scoff, but it sounded anyway.  "You told me to admit it," he added with a sneer.

I chose not to reply.  Instead, I just shut my eyes and returned the icepack to my head, intent on ignoring my teammate until he decided to leave.  He clearly didn't get the message, though, because he carried on speaking.

"You're a great player; I'm not about to deny that."  The compliment should have made me feel better, but it just got under my skin more. "I respect you as a footballer. Why does it matter how I feel about you personally?"

"I couldn't care less how you feel about me personally," I laughed incredulously.  "You just can't say you respect me as a footballer if you're constantly rude to me, even on the pitch."

"Whoa, who says I'm rude to you on the pitch?"

"So you admit you're rude to me off it?"

I shouldn't have been amused given the seriousness of the conversation, but Lance's ridiculousness made me chuckle despite myself.  I sat up, wanting to see his smug expression disappear.  He rolled his eyes at me and didn't say anything, to my satisfaction.

"Why do you have it out for me, huh?" I asked, surprising myself with the question.  I had my suspicions, a lot of them to do with Mason, but I wanted to hear first hand from Lance the reason for his grudge against me.  "Is it because I'm a girl?"

I knew the comment would throw him, and it did. "Absolutely not, Beck; don't say things like that."  His face was unpredictably sombre.

"Okay, then is it about Mason?" I asked bravely.

I didn't necessarily feel the urge to make Lance like me, but I knew that if I wanted him to stop treating me badly I needed to get to the bottom of his issue with me.  Upon hearing Mason's name, Lance's jaw stiffened.  I knew I'd clearly hit a soft spot, whether he was willing to declare it or not.

Lance and Mason played the same position. While Lance was solid and a hard worker, he didn't have anything on Mason's creativity, foresight and attacking mentality, driving him to the bench more often than not.  During the World Cup, him and Mason had been competing for the position the whole group stage, but with Mason starting the quarter and semi, it was clear who had won that battle.  I had always thought that because I was friends with Mason and Lance disliked him for taking his place in the team that he didn't like me by principle.

Lance shrugged.  "What about Mitchie?"

"You don't like him, therefore you don't like me by association."  Lance slowly looked up and met my eyes, his narrowed.

"It's not about me liking or not liking anyone. I've just been around a lot longer than you have and all of these things end the same.  Maybe I just don't want to see it happening again."

"What are you talking about?"  I threw my hands into the air, growing more and more frustrated with the way Lance was handling this.  He raised an eyebrow at me, his expression mirroring the irritation I felt.  "Are you upset that Mason's my friend?"

"I'm upset because he should be your teammate before anything else," he stated unemotionally. "And that's obviously not the case with you and Mitchell."

I shook my head incredulously.  Anger was starting to form in the pit of my stomach, but I pushed it down as hard as I could.  A fight with Lance was the last thing I wanted right now.

"Well, sorry you feel like that."  My response must have caught him off guard, because his eyes widened.  "But I can't help that you're offended by our friendship."

"Look, Rebecca, call it whatever you want; at the end of the day, if that all ends badly, it's your career that will go up in smoke."  With those cryptic words, he stood up.  "Don't say I didn't warn you."

We stared each other down for several moments. He left in the same silence, with his words playing over and over in my already slightly fuzzy head.

***

Our doctor had come back a while after Lance's departure and told me I was free to go up to my room if I so wanted.  I did want to, so I headed upstairs and climbed into bed, my tired body and mind taking a much-needed break.

Someone knocking on my door softly but persistently woke me up later that afternoon.  Disorientated, I took a moment to compose myself before I sat up straight.  My head was still sore, but it was duller than it had been earlier.  Now, it sort of felt like a hangover: a throbbing that didn't stop me getting on with life but was uncomfortable, and consistently so.

The knocking registered in my mind again and I realised I'd blanked for a flash.  "Who is it?"

The muffled reply told me it was Kyle. Standing up – a little wobblier than I would have liked – I reached the door and pulled it open.  A beaming Kyle holding a tray met me, and behind him stood Marcus.  I smiled and greeted the pair as they entered my room.

"You missed lunch, so we thought we'd bring you some," Kyle said, placing the tray on the desk opposite my bed.

"And we wanted to tell you first hand that Lance has been reprimanded by almost everyone on the team," Marcus added, a smug smile on his face.

I chuckled, lifting the cloister off the tray. "Well, thanks, guys.  I appreciate it."

"Are you feeling okay?" Kyle wondered, plonking himself on the edge of my bed.  Marcus followed suit and mirrored Kyle's concerned look.  "It looked pretty bad: a lot of blood."

"It's okay," I muttered, picking up a baby carrot and popping it into my mouth.  "Just have a bit of a headache."

"God, of all people, it had to be you that he bashed over the head," Kyle replied, rolling his eyes.

"I would have expected him to aim for Mitchell, honestly," Marcus joked, causing Kyle to release a snort. "What?  Randall hates him."

"He hates Beck, too," Kyle pointed out. Marcus snorted this time.

"If anything he dislikes Beck.  Him and Mason have, like, a full-on rivalry."

"That's dramatic."

"Nah, bro, I'm telling you."  I listed to their argument with amusement as I munched on an array of broccoli, carrots and asparagus.  "Lance is seriously threatened by Mason."

"I'm threatened by Mason and we play different positions," Kyle huffed. "Lance might think Mason's better than him – because he is and everyone knows it – but he seriously has it out for Beck."

"I bet you twenty quid Randall and Mitchell get into a fight this camp," Marcus said, changing the topic with a cheeky grin. Kyle instantly huffed and rolled his eyes.

"No ways, bro, you're crazy."

"I swear it'll happen!  We should lock them in the gym together and see how long it takes him to take a weight to Mase.  Or the other way around."

"What do you reckon, Beck?" Kyle turned to me.  "Think one of them will crack and take the other on?"

"Mason wouldn't even take on John," I teased, mentioning the smallest guy on the team.  "He'd be nowhere if he picked a fight with Lance."

"But Lance taking on Mitchie," Marcus pointed out, lifting a pointer finger into the air, "is another story."

"You know, before today I would have agreed with you, Beck," Kyle said thoughtfully.  "But now that Lance has messed with you, I reckon Mase would dive in."

My stomach clenched at his words, and I quickly scoffed to hide the way his comment affected me.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," Kyle protested, holding up a hand.  "You didn't see the scene after you left.  Mason was being held back; I had to remove Lance from the gym.  I thought Mason was going to go for it, seriously. It was a mess."  His face lit up and he turned to Marcus, who already wore a knowing look.  "You know, come to think of it, you could be right, MP.  But only because Lance messed with Beck."

"Yeah, man, I know."

"I'm telling you right now: Mason's too much of a coward," I sang.

"Who are you calling a coward?"

I almost jumped out of my skin as Mason's teasing voice came from my doorway.  Hand on heart, I turned to meet him and saw the cheeky grin on his face. He was hanging in my doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he looked over us with joking wrath.

"You, bro," Marcus said fearlessly, his lips lifted in a grin.

"Come say that to my face, MP," Mason joked, sauntering into the room and perching on the armrest of the chair I was sitting in.  His leg brushing against my shoulder shouldn't have made me blush as much as it did, and I had to turn and take a forkful of salmon to hide it.

"I would, you see, because I know you wouldn't do anything to me," Marcus replied.  Mason chuckled and, reaching for a carrot from my plate, chucked it at a laughing Marcus.

"Hey, my lunch!" I protested, slapping his hand away as he reached for another one.

"Beck!" Mason exclaimed, as if he just remembered I was in the room.  "Hey, how are you?  You has us worried, you know."

Gone was the joking demeanour: Mason looked down at me worriedly, his eyes filled with concern.  I smiled earnestly up at him, more touched by his concern than I had been at Marcus and Kyle's.

"I'm okay, thanks."

"Good thing he made some improvements to your face," he said.  He reached up to touch his eyebrow in the place where my new stich was.  "Your eyebrows needed some work."  I elbowed him off my chair, and he laughed as he slid off to stand next to me.  "Nah, but for real, I'm glad you're okay."

"Hey, Mase, would you fight Randall now because he hurt Beck?"  Marcus asked the question in this innocent tone he often used, but the glint in his eye gave away his impish intentions.  Kyle burst out laughing, while I just groaned and hoped the blush on my cheeks wasn't as obvious as it felt.

Mason, luckily, played along and sprung into a boxing stance.  "Hell yeah. He's gone too far now.  I'll fuck him up later."

Although Kyle and Marcus continued laughing, something in Mason's tone made me wonder if he was being serious.

"Oh, hey, we need to go," Kyle said abruptly, looking at his phone screen.  He slapped Marcus on the arm.  "We have that interview in five minutes."

"Oh," Mason cooed.  "Look at these guys over here."

Kyle rolled his eyes.  "It's one of those videos for the England Youtube channel or something."

"Apparently they wanted the Hall siblings but they refused," Marcus laughed.  "So it's on us."

"Good luck," I chuckled as the pair stood up in unison.  "Hope it goes well."

Kyle held out a fist for me to pound. "I'm glad you're okay, Beck."

"Me too!" Marcus added, holding out his fist, too.

"Thanks for the lunch!" I called as they exited, bustling to each get out the door first.

"I'm so glad they play for different clubs," Mason mumbled, taking the places abandoned on my bed.  "Imagine having to put up with that all the time."

"The Premier League would collapse," I agreed through a mouthful of salmon.

Mason motioned to my eye.  "You really okay?"  The apprehension was back, and not for the first time it amazed me how quickly Mason could switch between moods.

"My head's pretty sore," I told him honestly. "But I'll be fine, I swear."

"Lance is an idiot."  Again, I replayed his words and wondered if he would go picking a fight with Lance.

"He came to apologise," I murmured.  "In the infirmary.  We had an interesting chat."

Mason had slouched back against my bed, but now he sat straight up, alert.  "About what?"

I waved my hand through the air.  "Bullshit stuff.  I called him out for picking on me, though."

"About time," Mason scoffed.  I looked at him pointedly.

"Sorry, should I have done it earlier?"

"That's not what I meant," he defended himself quickly.  "I just meant it's about time someone called him out for being a bully.  Just because he's been in this team for, like, decades, doesn't mean he can treat us new kids like trash."

"New kids?" I repeated, chuckling.  Mason grinned and rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean.  Us youngsters."

"Yeah, well, I called him out, so I guess we'll just have to see if it improves."

Mason huffed and laid back down on his back. "Sorry he's such a dick to you. You don't deserve it."

"He's a dick to you, too."  I said the words quietly, and saw Mase's chest rise and fall in a deep sigh.

"Maybe, but I can do more about it than you can."

My lunch was just about finished, so I plopped on the bed next to Mason, lying back like he had.  I turned to look at him to find him staring at me already, sending chills down my arms.

"You're not actually going to start a fight with him, are you?"

His lips lifted in a grin.  "If he picks one with me, I'll have to fight back."

"Mason," I moaned, reaching across the small space between us to hit his stomach.  "I'm being serious.  Imagine you got kicked out or something."  I left my arm across his torso, enjoying the feeling of his steady breathing.  "It's not worth it."

"I'm not going to get kicked out, Beck," he drawled.  Shivers appeared down my spine as he starting fiddling with the hair tie around my wrist, lifting it up and letting it slap back down.  "But I mean it when I say that if something like this happens again, I'll get pissed off."

"It was an accident."

"Mm, maybe, but it's too convenient."

I looked at him again, and studied his profile as he examined the ceiling.  I wanted to believe that Mason wasn't dumb enough to start a fight with one of the most senior players in the squad, but Mason could be full of surprises when he wanted to be, regrettably.  I just had to hope that his feud with Lance would settle in the remaining three days we had at St George's Park.