Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
I jerk my head, hearing my neck crack. Kade’s taunt from the other night still sits in my head. I tried not to take it out on Dylan, which is why I mostly stayed away from her yesterday. It’s none of my business where she slept that night.
I just need to concentrate on the game, and it’s not going well. I think about him too much, and her all the time. Her body, her smile, how she must feel to hold… Does he know?
The coach closes the distance between us, looking at me sternly. “We don’t give a shit who your dad is here?”
I know. I know I can’t talk to him like Kade talked to our coach in the Falls, and I’ve never smarted off to a coach before.
But… “If I’m offense,” I explain, “I won’t be on the field at the same time as my brother. It’s the only reason I joined this team.”
Well, not the only reason, but it was a non-negotiable, for sure.
“He knows I’ve been playing defense,” I point out. “If I suddenly switch, he’s going to think I’m afraid to face him.”
“And I think you bringing your baggage onto the field is bad for our chances,” Dewitt replies.
I cast my gaze to the side, seeing the guys fooling around by the benches. Calvin stands shirtless, sweat dripping from his hair as he speaks animatedly, probably telling a story. Everyone else loiters around, listening and laughing.
Dewitt sends T.C. back to the team, leaving us alone as he faces me again. “Do you think any of us care about you and Kade Caruthers settling a score?” he asks. “I’m old, kid. I’ve seen thousands come and go.” He looks over his shoulder, continuing. “Constin will be serving twenty to life in five years. I’ll bet you a million dollars on that.”
I find Constin in the group, tattoos already covering his arms and half of his chest. His dad died in prison, and he works for Green Street to help pay the bills.
“Luca will have three baby mamas in seven years,” the coach adds. “Calvin will be dead in three. Probably from an overdose. And a couple of them will be shot.” He looks at me again. “Probably by Farrow, because you know he’s not going anywhere good.”
All the air tries to leave my lungs, but I keep my composure. I glance at the guys again, no idea where Farrow is. He walked off a while ago.
Dewitt is right. Farrow works for Green Street, just like Constin, but Farrow is being groomed for more. Constin reports to him. More than a few people do. Does my grandfather know that?
“This is the last year they’ll ever truly be free,” the coach tells me. “This game may be the highlight of their lives.”
But not mine. He knows I have everything in front of me, and I’ll leave this place in the dust once I graduate.
I gaze over the faces of my team as they smile and joke around. In ten years, most of them will have a life no one will want.
“Go on!” Coach yells at them. “Get out of here!”
“Yeah!” they howl.
I start after them, but Dewitt stops me with two fingers in my chest.
“You run,” he orders me. “Three miles. Then you can go.”
He nudges me back, and I look at everyone gathering up their gear and making their way out to enjoy their day off.
Withholding my sigh, because I know I deserve this, I pivot and jog for the track that circles the football field. Stepping onto the broken, faded clay, I start the first of twelve laps, trying to be quick about it, but I eventually settle into an easy pace, indulging in the quiet and the light sprinkle of rain.
Dewitt is right. I have tunnel vision. I want to win, but I’m using them, and I used to be better than this. Making everything about me makes me no better than Kade, and I like it here. I like these people.
I was a good kid. I liked doing science experiments and research just for the hell of it. Because I was curious.
I read and collected, explored and tried new things, and now…
Now I’m him.
He never used to be this way, either. Cocky and arrogant and smug. He was always bolder than me, but he liked me.
What good is winning the game if he changes me?
I don’t know how many laps I’ve done, but I spot Dylan and Farrow leaving on his bike and pick up my pace. She wears her jacket—the same one Mace stole a few days ago—and she and Farrow rush off, looking like they’re in a hurry. It’s her birthday today. I should say something.
I race a couple of more laps for good measure and gather my stuff from my gym locker, not bothering to change.