By the time I’m showered, dressed, and grabbing my shit from my locker, Caleb is on his way out too. “You good, man?” he asks, knowing damn well I’m not.
“Can’t stand that kid,” I murmur, looking over my shoulder at Ricky Wallace. He’s a year younger than most of us and has the skill to be a great fucking quarterback, but he’s stuck up because he knows he’s good.
As if he knows I’m talking about him, the kid looks up and flashes a cocky grin. “You talking about practice? It’s okay, Griffith. Maybe you’ll be better next time.”
My teeth grind.
It’s Caleb who murmurs, “Ignore him.”
Jaw ticking, I grumble, “I dropped three fucking passes.”
“But you’ve never done it before,” he reasons like he always does to disperse the tension building. “It was a bad day. Tomorrow is a new one. Just gotta focus better.”
Shaking my head, I gesture toward the door to leave. I don’t feel like listening to the asshole inside gloat about his new position. Somebody needs to remind him that he wouldn’t have this chance if Justin’s knee hadn’t gotten fucked up.
Caleb’s expression looks contemplative as we push open the door and head out to the hallway. “Brady is going to be pissed off once he hears about Wallace.”
“What’s he going to do? He’s out. There’s no way he’s playing the rest of the season with that knee. Not since it’s a repeat.”
My friend’s face turns grim. “I know.”
We walk silently for a while, stewing in the possibility of our winning streak being over. Wallace is good, better than, but that doesn’t mean he’ll help take home our next victory while we’re away this weekend. If practice is any indication, we’re fucked.
“Things going okay with Everly still? I know he can be a pain in the ass, but he’s got real talent.”
The teen in question has a killer arm on him. When Cal mentioned he was looking to be mentored so one of Lindon’s college scouts would scope him out in another year or two, I was more than happy to check out what he had going for him. Now I go over to his house for a few hours every week, throw a ball around, give him some tips on how to build more muscle, run faster, eat better, and go home when his mother tells me it’s time to. She doesn’t seem as enthusiastic over him pursuing a contact sport, or any sport for that matter, especially since his grades need major help. She works an extra part-time job to pay for a tutor for him so he can stay on his high school team since he’s determined to get an athletic scholarship like a lot of the Dragons did. He could get into any school he wants with the talent he already has, and I’m determined to drill that into his head.
“He does,” I agree easily, shifting my bag higher onto my shoulder. “I’d rather deal with his ass over Wallace’s.”
The snort that comes from my friend makes me crack a grin. “Yeah, Everly’s a good kid. Always was growing up.”
“If he stays focused like you did, he’ll get his pick of the litter.”
A small laugh comes from the six-two running back beside me. “He wants in Lindon. I doubt he’d consider anything else even if scouts offered him a full ride. He doesn’t talk about it, but he wants to help out his mom since they’ve struggled after his dad died.”
It’d be a shame to watch him hold back to stay close to his mom, but I get it. I’m close to my parents, talk every week with them, and would do just about anything if they needed me to. They supported me through everything when I fucked up at Wilson Reed and got sent to pick up the pieces here and still believe I have a shot at a real future in the league.
When we make it to the parking lot, we slow at his truck. It’s an older Ford that his father passed down to him. Rust coats the bottom, the interior is torn and worn, with a musty, aged scent, but he loves the thing. “You know, it’s not too late to talk to Coach about the draft. He’s brought up the combine a few times hoping you’d bite since you got the invite. You’ve got the talent to make it.” I kick his front tire with the edge of my boot and watch some rust fall off the bottom of the cab. “Could buy you a new truck if people like what they see.”
He makes a face at me before opening the passenger door, which creaks so loud I wince, and throws his bag onto the bench seat. “That isn’t what I want to do, and you know it. Plus, I know I don’t have the same skillsets as everyone else who will be showing off there. The scouts watching will want someone to take them to the top. I’d be fourth or fifth pick at best if I even get a chance at the draft.”
You’d think someone who was born and raised in Lindon would want to leave it at some point, but not my best friend. He loves it here, and the people love him. Not just because he’s a badass on the field, but because he has roots. He wants to be involved in the community since they’ve always cheered him on growing up. He’s loyal.
“Raine coming over tonight?” I ask after he slams the door shut, knowing the conversation is over.
He grunts and pushes on the door since it never latches right the first time before turning to me. “Nah. I have plans to go over to her place. Her and the girls are doing a movie night.”
“All the girls?”
Caleb knows who I’m really asking about and fails to hide his smile. “Your girl doesn’t participate. Hell, I barely even see her when I’m there.” He’s always there. “It doesn’t help that only Raine makes an effort to involve her in anything.”
My lips twitch.
A head nod, not that I’m surprised. “Ivy prefers staying in her room. Sometimes she’ll be in the kitchen making something, but usually she likes avoiding everyone. Those brownies I brought home were from her, by the way.” He gives me a sheepish smile. “DJ demolished most of them. Anyway, the girls gave her the basement there.” He makes a face, causing my eyes to narrow at him in silent question. “Dude, the basement is gross. I know I brought it up before, but I didn’t want to admit how bad it was. There’s mold and it’s not even finished. Nobody should be living down there. When Raine told me that’s where she was placed, I couldn’t believe it. Remember last summer when I had to help them move some shit down there? It hasn’t changed, and it was nasty then.”
My nostrils flare. “And Ivy didn’t say anything? Didn’t put up a fight?” I imagine living in a moldy basement is better than some guys house who wants sex from her as compensation for the roof he’s supplying, but still.
Our conversation last weekend comes back full force, and I want to punch something. I took it out on the guys at practice all week and it barely helped. Coach even asked what I’d been thinking about because he hadn’t seen me play like that in a long time.
“Whatever it is, son, keep thinking it.”
Obviously today all those pent-up feelings got the better of me. Not only did I drop three passes, I got taken out by one of the smallest damn members of the team like an embarrassment.
“Like I said,” Caleb sighs, pulling me from my thoughts. “She doesn’t say much. Keeps to herself. I know she works at the bakery and spends as much time out of the house as she can. Heard one of the guys mention seeing her at the library a lot working on homework. I think she only really comes home to sleep if she can help it. And, well, I’ve told you some of the shit the girls gossip about.”