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The usual high Nat gets from a win doesn’t last very long, but it hardly ever does with blow outs like tonight.
The Yellowjackets are one of the best teams in the state and their host team, the Panthers, isn't even in the top twenty. They never stood a chance and Nat’s never seen the fun in punching down.
It was a pretty hollow victory and she wasn’t even in a good mood going into the game, so instead of sticking around to listen to her teammates recount the game as she waits around for one of three showers to open up, Nat ditches the changing room in favor of a much needed post game smoke.
Her leather jacket doesn’t hide the sweaty navy and yellow jersey underneath it, so when Nat steps outside, she quickly moves away from the crowd of their opponents’ disappointed friends and families to search for some peace and quiet.
The only times the Yellowjackets have played this team have been in home games, so Nat doesn’t really know where she’s going other than away from everyone.
She decides to head towards the bleachers, since that’s her designated smoking spot at Wiskayok High, but as she gets closer, she can see there’s already people there.
Nat’s steps slow as she squints across the parking lot, her unlit cigarette hanging between her lips and the hand digging in her jacket pocket for her lighter stilling as she tries to make sense of the scene in front of her.
There’s four Panthers players circling around something - no, around someone - like prey, boxing them in.
Nat’s hackles rise before she even registers what’s going on, and her feet seem to move closer of their own accord.
They’re all speaking over each other, cruel sounding laughter punctuating their crueller words, but Nat is only able to make out two sentences before she comprehends what exactly she’s witnessing.
“Give them back! Please!” comes a desperate cry, a voice Nat recognizes even though tears. “I can’t see without them!”
“Too bad we can still see you,” one of the Panthers girls taunts. “Ugly fucking bitch.”
Nat realizes the girl they have cornered is Misty just seconds before she’s roughly pushed into the dirt, but her feet are already two steps ahead of her brain and carrying her body towards them at breakneck speed.
“Hey!” Nat shouts, her cigarette falling and forgotten as she sprints across the parking lot faster than she moved all night.
Three of the four girls turn towards her, and the last thing Nat remembers before everything turns red is the sound her knuckles make when they connect with the fourth girl’s jaw.
/
“Nat! Nat! Natalie!”
The voice is distorted and far away, like it’s reaching her through some kind of filter.
It doesn’t sound real, like it’s just in her head or from a dream.
But the sudden, sharp impact to the side of her face stings too much to be fake.
It wakes Nat up, even though she wasn’t asleep. Her vision is blurry like she was, her body tingling and heavy like she was.
“Wha… what…” Nat’s not sure if it’s her mouth or brain struggling with coherence, but her eyes get it together before anything else does.
Misty comes into focus in front of her, and the first thing Nat thinks when she sees her is that she got her glasses back in one piece.
That’s good. She’s pretty sure Misty’s blind without them.
“Nat, Nat,” the other girl keeps chanting, her hands grabbing at Nat’s face so she can look into her eyes. She must be able to tell that Nat has returned to her body, because she practically whimpers in relief. “Nat, oh my gosh, we have to get you out of here.”
Misty tries to tug her to her feet, but Nat’s too heavy for Misty to do it on her own.
Nat’s gaze drifts from Misty’s face to look around, first at the girls crumpled on the ground around them, and then at the throbbing hands in her lap, covered in mud and blood.
“What… What happened?” Nat is finally able to spit out, voice pitched and eyes widening. “Are, are they… Did I…”
“Shhh, shh, they’re okay,” Misty promises, just as one of the girls groans and another cries, proving her words true. “But we have to go, okay? Come on, just come with me, I’ll get you all cleaned up.”
When Misty tugs again, this time Nat helps her. The two of them manage to get Nat to her unsteady feet, but getting her to walk is a much tougher task.
Nat leans half of her weight onto Misty’s smaller frame, but the other girl is a lot stronger than she looks, and practically carries her back across the parking lot and towards the small maintenance building on the abandoned end of the soccer field.
Once they’re safely inside and away from possible witnesses, Misty helps Nat a few more steps and then down into a desk chair before she flicks on the lights.
“Okay, what do you say we get you all cleaned up?” Misty says with a smile that’s as off putting as it is comforting. Whatever happened, it’s nothing to smile about, yet the fact that she’s smiling loosens something in Nat’s chest and puts her at ease.
But Nat doesn’t say anything because she can’t find her voice.
She just sits and watches as Misty crouches down in front of her, pulling out the little first-aid kit she keeps stored in the fanny pack around her waist and getting to work.
Misty cleans Nat’s hands first, gently wiping off the blood and mud caked on her skin with some wet wipes that she stuffs back inside her pack when she’s done with them.
Next, she disinfects the scrapes and cuts Nat didn’t even notice she had. The first touch stings; Nat flinches and Misty apologies.
Nat doesn’t even feel the second pass, her eyes glazing over as she watches Misty do her thing.
She whispers, “What did I do?” to stop herself from drifting away again.
“Nothing wrong,” Misty responds immediately and without looking away from her wrecked hands.
Nat doesn’t believe that. It doesn’t make sense with what she knows, not with that much blood. Not with the way she blacked out from rage.
She shakes her head. “Those girls-”
“They were bullies,” Misty finishes for her firmly, leaving no room for argument. “And you protected me.” She speaks with so much reverence that not even Nat’s mushy, scattered brain can miss it. “So just let me take care of you now. Okay?”
Nat swallows thickly, tears falling before she even feels her eyes welling, and nods mutely. There’s nothing she can say.
She just watches as Misty finishes cleaning her wounds and starts patching her up, her touch so soft and soothing that it just makes her cry more, but she doesn’t know why.
Misty’s the one that was being attacked, not her; she attacked.
Nat doesn’t remember what she did but she knows she hurt those girls.
She doesn’t like to hurt people or things, but it’s not the first time she has. She cried the first time she went hunting with her dad, too.
He had just laughed and told her to toughen up. He hadn’t dried her tears like Misty is doing right now.
And years later, when she held that same gun up to his face and pulled the trigger, he’d called her useless for leaving the safety on. He shot himself a minute later, and even though Nat didn’t cry then, her mother hadn’t offered her anything but blame, either.
Nat’s never been touched like this before, this gently, with this much concern.
Maybe that’s why she’s crying.
Not from the guilt or the shame at what she did, but from the care Misty is showing her after it.
Nobody’s ever taken care of her like this before and she doesn’t know what to do with it, how to handle it. So she just cries.
“I’m sorry,” Nat chokes out through her sniffles, even though she doesn’t know what she’s apologizing for.
But Misty just shakes her head as she peels a Band-aid open. “Don’t be silly, you have nothing to be sorry about,” she says with a smile, carefully placing it over the deepest cut on the back of Nat’s hand. Then she leans down to gently press her lips against the bandage, sealing it against her clean skin. “There! All patched up. Do you want any Tylenol?”
Nat is too busy staring at the Barbie Band-aid on her hand to answer her, the skin still tingling where Misty had kissed her.
She hears Misty stand up, but doesn’t pay attention to what she’s doing until she’s coaxing Nat out of the chair.
“Wait,” Nat mumbles, snapping out of her daze. She lets Misty get her to her feet, but then grabs her by the shoulders to hold her in place. “Are you okay?” she finally asks, realizing she hasn’t yet.
She looks Misty over for signs of injury, remembering the way the girl pushed her much smaller body and the way she dropped to the ground. Nat is relieved to find her pink sweater is only smeared with mud, not blood.
Misty’s forehead scrunches in confusion for a moment, but then smooths out quickly when she figures it out.
“Oh, yeah, totally! Thanks to you I am!” Nat thinks that shouldn’t make her feel as warm as it does. “Now let’s go before someone finds those mean girls or the bus leaves without us. Are you okay to walk?”
Nat thinks she probably is, now, but wraps her arm around the other girl’s shoulder and leans against her, deciding to let Misty take care of her for a little while longer.