Practice is as miserable as I imagined. I set up every drill but don’t get to do any of them. Instead, I spend the two hours filling water bottles and moving cones around. And any time there’s not something for me to do, Coach has me running laps around the field.
My mood is shit by the time the last whistle blows. Of course, I don’t get to relax because as soon as the rest of the guys leave the field, I have to take everything to the storage shed, and then when I get to the locker room there’s a pile of sweaty jerseys waiting for me.
As captain I’ve gladly taken on more responsibility than the rest of the team, which is why I think using it aspunishment feels especially awful. I’m no longer leading. I’m a cautionary tale.
And it’s working. Everyone’s avoiding me or sending me sad, sympathetic glances. A couple of the freshmen don’t seem to know how to act around me. One guy wouldn’t even let me fill his water bottle at practice.
“Hey.” Rowan hangs back after everyone else has gone home. “Want to hang out? We could grab some pizza, dust off a bottle of Jack, rage against the injustice of it all?”
He grins playfully like he already knows my answer won’t be drowning my sorrows in liquor.
“I can’t. I have to wash the jerseys and then go home and study.”
“All right. Do you want some help? I’m pretty good at laundry. I’ve only turned one or two of my shirts pink.”
“Nah. I got it.”
He lifts his bag to his shoulder. “What’s the plan, Cap?”
I shake my head as I toss my own jersey on top of the pile. “No plan.”
“You always have a plan.” He tries to smile, but whatever he sees on my face makes him second-guess it. “Whatever you need. I’m here. My grades aren’t much better than yours, but maybe two of us can add up to one dude smart enough to pass that test.”
Rowan is a playful guy by nature, but he’s a good teammate and friend. I’ve rarely taken him up on offers of help, but I know I could always ask if I really needed something.
“I appreciate it, but Lacey is going to tutor me.” Saying it out loud has a fresh wave of unease settling low in my stomach.
“Yeah?” Rowan’s optimistic smile is back.
I turn my wrist over to look at the time. “If I ever get out of here.”
“Are you sure I can’t help?” He starts to put his bag down, but I wave him off.
“Dad will just find some other tasks for me if I don’t do this one on my own.”
“All right. I’ll get out of your way then. See you tomorrow.”
* * *
I text Lacey as soon as I’m finished at the school, and by the time I get home, she’s already waiting for me. She stands at the kitchen counter with my dad. They’re both smiling like her showing up at my home to tutor me is a completely normal, everyday occurrence.
I drop my backpack on the floor just inside the door from the garage. They turn in unison to look at me, smiles falling in a synchronized way.
“Hey,” Lacey says, infusing her voice with some of her usual peppiness. She looks just the tiniest bit nervous.
“Hi.” My gaze moves to Dad.
“Lacey says she’s going to help you with algebra.” His mouth rests in a firm line.
“Yeah. Is that okay?” I ask, just a hint of irritation bleeding into my tone. I know I screwed up, but I hate feeling like every move I make is under a microscope now.
“Of course.” He sounds thrilled, which I guess he probably is. He probably thinks she’s my golden ticket. I hope he’s right.
“I left dinner out for you. Put it away when you’re done. And if you use the living room, try not to mess up the set.”
The set? It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask, but I glance over, and the answer is pretty obvious. The living room looks nothing like it did when I left this morning. The walls have been painted and new artwork displayed. Our big sectional has been removed, and in its place is a beige couch that’s small and looks uncomfortable.
I guess Maureen and Rick finally got their wish.
