"Nice practice, boys," Coach barked as we circled around him, huffing and panting after a hard practice. "We've got a big game next week so I don't want to hear about anyone partying this weekend, you got it? Zero tolerance on that. I'm serious. Your body's need to be in top form."
"Yes, Coach," the team chorused back.
"Alright. Hit the showers."
Feeling a burning at the back of my neck, I faked a stretch so I could peek a glance over my shoulder. My eyes met Will's almost instantly, and he smirked before I could turn away. I could already imagine the plan formulating in his mind, something incriminating that would really push Coach over the edge. Anything to get me off the team.
As usual, I hung back, but my fingers fiddled with the zipper of my bag more than usual.
I had been thinking a lot lately. Shawna had been filling my head with her words about starting over and not letting my past define me, and it had inspired me to do something about it.
I wasn't happy with the way things were, but it didn't have to stay that way. I could do something about it, and I was going to. I just had to work up the nerve to actually--
"You done staring at nothing, Harris?"
I jumped at Coach's voice. "Uh, yeah. Sorry. I just wanted to..." I swallowed, wondering why the words were suddenly so hard to get out. "Talk."
He looked as though he'd been waiting for it, but I wasn't about to tell him about my troubles with the guys. Coach was a good guy, but it wasn't like we were buddies.
"Go ahead," he nodded, busy jotting something down on his clipboard.
"I uh," I coughed to clear my throat. "I want to quit the team."
My words caused his attention to snap up. "What was that?"
"I don't want to play on the team anymore, Coach."
Coach gave me a look over, "If this is because of Graham and the others..."
So he did suspect something was going on. I considered blurting it all out right there, telling him the whole truth, but I didn't want to be that guy. As much as I disliked Will, the idea of ruining his last football season didn't sit well with me. He was a good player, honestly, and getting him kicked off the team (which I'm sure Coach would do if he knew about everything) would only make the whole team suffer.
Even though I'd like to make him hurt for everything he's done to me, I knew that ultimately, that wasn't the right thing to do. I needed to choose to be a better person. And besides, this wasn't even about him.
"No, Coach. This is for me."
He lifted an eyebrow, "Are you sure, Mark?"
"I'm sure. This isn't what I want for myself right now. I hope you don't mind."
Coach looked troubled, like he knew there was more to the story but also didn't want to get too involved. Eventually, he let out a heavy sigh, "You're my best middle linebacker."
I smiled. "Lee has a lot of potential though."
He rubbed at his head, "How about this? You stay until after the big game against the Bobcats, and then you can go. Give yourself some time to change your mind."
"I guess I can do that."
"Great," he nodded. And then, as though he didn't know any other way to end a conversation with his players, he added, "Now uh, hit the showers.
"Thanks, Coach."
I left the field and headed for the locker room, feeling like a fifty pound weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I only needed to stay for a couple more weeks and then I was free. It wasn't a completely fresh start, but it was the beginning of a new beginning, and it felt really good.
Stepping into the change room, I immediately felt the pressure of a dozen pairs of eyes on me. I usually hated when people stared at me, especially people from school, but it was like that signal in my brain had been turned off. I didn't care anymore. The hold they used to have on me was gone.
"Aw, look who showed up, boys," Will laughed mockingly, rubbing a towel over his head. "Harris is finally man enough to shower with the rest of us."
I held back an eye roll and silently moved for my locker. Unfortunately, they were organized alphabetically, so ours were right next to each other. I could feel his presence hovering beside me as I shoved my gear in.
"You really think ignoring me is a good idea, Harris?" he said, just loud enough for me to hear. "After all, I heard some rumors that you were going to be partying this weekend. Man, Coach is going to be so--"
"Save it, Will," I cut him off, but keeping my tone calm. I didn't want this to escalate and then have to go back to Shawna's with a black eye again. "You can stop. I already quit the team."
To my surprise, Will had no snarky reply. In fact, he looked confused.
"Wait," another teammate, Al, said, overhearing our conversation. "Harris, you quit?"
His voice was loud enough that now everyone had heard the news, and I had regained their attention. I nodded once, and refocused on packing up my gear. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it.
"Dude," Al shoved Will's arm, and in a hushed voice that still carried, said, "He's our best middle linebacker. We can't lose him before the game."
"We're fine," Will snapped, mouth curled. He narrowed his eyes and took a step closer to me, "What do you think you're playing at, Harris? You think we're going to beg for you to stay? We don't need you."
"Uh yeah, we kind of do—"
"Shut up, Al," Will hissed, slamming a fist against a locker with a loud bang. "Screw you, Harris. You know I have college scouts coming to that game."
And for the first time, I realized that Will looked genuinely nervous beneath the layers of ticked off rage. Even after years of friendship with him, I had never seen this kind of vulnerability from him. He'd always played it cool, like nothing bothered him. But seeing him like this, I realized he was actually... just a guy. A highschool kid, not knowing what his future was going to look like.
Kind of like me.
Maybe he had scholarships riding on this game, maybe he had a family member pressuring him to do well... I had no idea. I didn't really know anything about Will Graham.
I fiddled with my bag while Will aggressively shoved things around in his locker beside me. Once I figured the team wasn't listening anymore, I tried to calm Will down in a quiet voice, "I'm not leaving until after the next game."
He paused, his body still tense. "What?"
"I'm playing in the Bobcats game, but I'm gone after that."
His shoulders relaxed slightly and he gave one sharp nod. "Hm."
Knowing that was the best I was going to get from him, I hoisted my bag over my shoulder and headed out. As corny as it was to say, I kind of felt like a new man. I had taken away the power from Will... he had no ammunition against me. He needed me.
I had to tell Shawna.
Grabbing my phone, I quickly pressed her contact and waited. After ringing four times, I got her voicemail machine and texted her instead.
Mark: hey cutie. got some news
Mark: its good news. really good news.
Mark: also I kinda miss you. is that weird to say?
Mark: I don't care. im sayin it. ;)
Mark: that winky face was intentional btw
Mark: hello?
I smiled, shaking my head. Of course this is the one time Shawna isn't glued to her phone spamming me with texts while I was at practice.
This was the best I've felt leaving practice in a long time. If I only had to make it through a few more practices, one more game... I could make it. Plus, I wouldn't have to go to that stupid family game, which was a bonus.
Although, Ryder would be disappointed. I know he loved coming to my football games, and he had been excited to come to that family game. But he would understand, right? I could make it up to him somehow. I wouldn't be able to live with Ryder being upset with me.
Suddenly my phone started buzzing in my pocket, and I quickly answered it with a grin. "Finally decided to stop ignoring me, loser?"
"Mark," a voice came through that was definitely not Shawna.
I frowned. "Mom? Oh. What are—what's up?"
"I'm... I'm okay. But... you need to come to the hospital."
"What? Mom—"
" I'll explain once you're here."
"Why? What's happening?"
"There's been an accident."
***
My knuckles turned white against the steering wheel as I maneuvered the streets, thoughts racing through my head, each more scattered and panicked than the last. Anxiety fought against rationality. I could barely see straight.
I forced myself to work through each question one by one.
Why was mom at the hospital?
It had to mean either Dad, or Ryder, or both, were in the accident. Mom didn't sound hurt, so either she wasn't in the car, or she had managed to make it out okay.
What happened?
Dad was usually a good driver. He'd drilled road safety into my head harder than any football skill. He was careful. But who knew what other idiots were out there, and what damage they could've done.
Were they okay?
Mom was upset, but not hysterical. That had to be a good sign, right? If one of them was in a coma or something, she'd have been losing it. They must be okay.
What if they weren't?
I needed to apologize to my father. Things have been so tense between us lately. I was still holding the dinner with Shawna over him, and it's been affecting all our interactions. Even though he had been in the wrong, I could let anything happen to him knowing that we weren't on good terms. That would haunt me for the rest of my life, for sure. I needed to fix things between us.
And if it was Ryder...
I couldn't even think.
The hospital came into sight and I jammed my truck into the first parking spot I could find. The automatic doors barely had time to open for me as I charged into the emergency waiting area and marched up to the desk, surprising the secretary.
"Is there a James or Ryder Harris here?" I forced out, my chest heaving.
The small secretary with bright blue eyes blinked up at me, "I'm sorry, emergency patients who haven't been admitted aren't registered into the system yet. You can check--"
"But did they come in here? A little boy with brown hair, this tall?" I held my hand up just above the desk. "Or a man, maybe? He'd be--"
"I can't answer that-"
"Please." My chest ached. "It's my brother. Or my dad. Or both. I don't even--"
Another secretary came over, "Sir, we're going to have to ask you to sit down. Someone will--"
"Just tell me if they're okay," I shouted, feeling like something was clawing its way up my throat. Panic. Fear.
"Mark."
I turned to see my Mom standing a few feet away, her face grim.
"Mom," I rushed towards her, relieved. "What's going on?"
She shared a look with one of the secretaries who must've given her the nod of approval, before leading me down a hallway. She still wasn't speaking and it was killing me. Just say it. Deliver the blow. I was ready.
"Mom--"
"You need to stay calm, Mark, okay? If you get too... you know, they're going to make you leave."
I knew what she was hinting at. The fighting. She still thought I was some rage machine, and that my emotions overtook me and made me lash out. She didn't know, didn't understand that it had been something else entirely. She hadn't taken the time to see.
I wanted to explain. I wanted her to know that those bloody noses and fists weren't some way to cure my boredom on a Friday afternoon. That the way she saw me wasn't who I was. That the scars weren't all physical. That I had been hurting for months and she had been so busy with her own problems to pause and take a glance at mine.
I wanted to yell.
But now wasn't the time.
As we stopped outside of a hospital room, I waited, my stomach flipping painfully as my mom slowly turned the knob and stepped inside. I took a deep breath, making sure my face didn't betray my emotions, and I followed her in.
The room was off white and smelled strongly of antiseptic. The fluorescent lights buzzed as a background hum to the constant, rhythmic beeping from the machines. But my eyes flew immediately to the small figure laying on the bed.
My heart stuttered to a stop. That wasn't Ryder.
It was Shawna.