Brookes catches my gaze, and I turn away. Like I don’t feel like enough of a chump already.
“Any questions?”
Players and coaches alike shift, but no one says anything.
Then Torres opens his big mouth. “If we get in trouble a fourth time, do you run, sir?”
Nobody moves a freaking muscle. And I just know . . . we’re all gonna run for that one. But then Coach surprises me. He laughs and shakes his head, but when he speaks, he’s serious again. “Mateo, you don’t want it to get that far. It won’t be pretty.”
My new roommate never does know quite when to shut up, though.
“No, I imagine that wouldn’t look pretty at all, Coach.”
“Teo!” “Torres!” “Seriously?”
Every player surrounding him turns and lays into him. He covers his head with his hands and jumps back.
Coach blows his whistle, and we all snap back to attention. “It looks like you boys are beginning to understand what it means to be responsible for your teammates.” He stares at Torres for a long moment and then looks at the team. “We’ll let that one slide. Now, into your position groups. We’ll start by seeing what you’ve retained over the summer.”
A small whoop raises up from the crowd and as we disperse, Torres yells. “I love you, Coach! You’re the best!”
“We’ll see if you still feel that way when we’re through. You know we don’t do easy days here, not even first day back.”
Chapter 9
Silas
I get my ass handed to me.
Multiple times.
By multiple people.
I’m focused. My head is in it, but my body just isn’t. Between my binge weekend and my punishment at the beginning of practice, my legs are too f**king slow and my arms too weak to hold the ball as tightly as I need to. I keep making stupid little mistakes, and odds are that I’m going to leave practice with a damaged eardrum from all the yelling.
Coach is on me because he’s still pissed about the fight with Levi. Coach Gallt, the running back coach, is all over me because he’s taking over offensive coordinator from Coach Cole now that the team is settled. The entire offense is his responsibility now, which means my failures come down on him. So, he’s coming down on me . . . hard. And some little asshat freshman (the same freaking one that passed out on my couch Friday night) is all keyed up trying to outdo me, soaking up every bit of praise like he’s just won the freaking Heisman.
All of the noise just keeps swarming around me, and I can hear myself f**king panting for breath, and I’m melting in this heat, and I’m so damned frustrated I could scream.
“Damn it, Moore!” Coach Gallt yells. “I’m sick of watching you screw up. Is this what this season is going to be like? Because if so, Williams is gonna take your place in no time.”
I don’t even know who Williams is, but when I get a good look at the cocky grin on the freshman’s face, I figure it out. His name is Keyon, or something like that. I don’t give a f**k.
I rip off my helmet. To do what . . . I don’t know. My head is about to explode, and I feel like I can’t breathe with it on. I’m about to mouth off to Gallt when Coach Cole cuts in. “Go get some water, Moore. Shake it off.”
I do what he says and head off to the sidelines. I gulp down a few mouthfuls of water and dump the rest over my head. It’s so dry and hot out that the water feels like heaven. Or as close as I’m likely to get to it anyway. I go to repeat the process when McClain sidles up to grab a drink of his own. Unlike me, he’s been killing it today. I had no f**king clue when Levi got kicked off the team that Carson would ever be able to replace him, let alone be better than him. But he did it . . . is doing it every day. Knowing him, he probably didn’t take a single day off all summer.
“You all right?” he asks.
I wipe some of the water and sweat from my forehead and say, “Fine, QB. Just an off day.”
“Yeah. Of course.” He nods, but I can tell choirboy has more he wants to say. He doesn’t wait long to get to it, either. “Listen, that lady who showed up at your party . . .”
Damn it. I knew this would come eventually.
“What about her?”
“Who is she?”
“Nobody,” I say. “She doesn’t matter.”
“It’s just . . . you seemed pretty freaked about it, and Stella thought she might be—”
I shove my helmet back on my head.
“I said she’s nobody. Leave it alone, McClain.”
“You took off so fast after she showed, and next thing I know you’re calling me to pick you up from a police station—”
“Listen. I’m grateful that you came to get my sorry ass Friday night. I am. But I’m not Ryan. We’re not gonna talk about my shit while we lift or whatever the hell it is you two do. You and I will just play ball, okay? That’s how this friendship works. All you need to know is . . . I’m fine. I’m good. Same as I always am.”
Or I will be. As soon as I get rid of this f**king hangover.
I spin to walk away, but not before adding, “And tell Stella to mind her own f**king business, too.”
The rest of practice doesn’t get any better. In fact, it just continues to get worse because now my head is as out of it as my body. When Coach blows the whistle calling it quits, all I want to do is hit the showers and get high again, but that would be the stupidest thing I could do.
Not that I’m above stupid. Stupid and I go way back.
And bad decisions are apparently what I do best. I sure as hell wasn’t at my best in anything else today.
I’m only thinking about getting to the shower and getting out of here when I feel a hand on my shoulder.
It’s the freshman. Keyon Williams. I might not have been sure of his name before today, but I know it now. He’s shorter than I am, and a little bit stockier. The guy’s got a pretty good sprint, but no real endurance. Not that I can really talk about endurance at the moment.
“What?” I bark.
“We didn’t really get introduced at the party Friday. Just wanted to say hey. Tell you good practice.”
I shrug his hand off. “Is that a f**king joke?”
He holds his hands up. “Nah, man. Didn’t mean anything by it. We all piss the bed some days.”
I lose it. Completely. I shove him up against the wall right outside the locker room and get in his face. “Listen, fish. You don’t know shit about me.” I said those same words to Levi, and now this asshat is f**king grinning, just like he did. It takes everything in me not to bash his teeth in. Carson steps into the doorway, and I catch his eye. I force out a breath and take my hands off the kid. Mouthy f**king freshman.