Good. Everything’s fine.
A minute later:
Fine? That’s it? You always say that.
My jaw tightened. I typed,
Yeah. Busy. Practice every day. Coach says I’m improving.
Another buzz.
And Dad? He still riding you?
Admitting it would’ve split me wide open, so I swallowed it down. Then I forced my thumbs to move.
Nah. He’s good. Just… you know, Dad.
Three dots blinked as if my brother was deciding whether to push. Then:
You’d tell me if it wasn’t good, right?
I swallowed hard. My fingers hovered over the screen, useless. Then I finally sent back:
Yeah. Don’t worry about me. Focus on college. I’ve got this.
Another pause. Then his reply came through:
You always say that too.
I tossed the phone aside and lay back, staring at nothing, wishing I could accept the words myself. The lie was easy. Too easy. I wish I believed it as much as everyone else seemed to.
Because the truth was, hanging with the soccer guys drained me. It was all noise and fists to the shoulder, locker-room jokes that never stopped. I laughed when I was supposed to. Smiled when I had to. Kept the mask tight. They were good dudes, mostly, but being around them was like keeping my muscles clenched for hours—pretending the jokes were funny, laughing too loud, flexing as if I cared about things I didn’t.
Talk of girls they liked, or “Dare, come on, backflip off the bleachers, bet you won’t.”
Always some test. Some dare.
And I always delivered. Smirk locked in place, heart pounding like I actually enjoyed being the idiot who did the crazy thing. Better that than them sniffing out the cracks.
Most days it worked. I was their guy, fast on the field, fast with a comeback. The one who never cowered.
But when the noise died down and the lights went out, all I could think about was how much work it took to stay that person. How thin that skin was—more costume than protection.
I hadn’t chosen soccer, not really. Dad had. But somewherebetween the drills and the matches, I was grateful it gave me something to throw myself into. Somewhere to burn off the anger, the hurt, the pieces of me I wasn’t allowed to show. A place to run harder, kick sharper, and shove my body until it went numb.
On the field, at least, no one asked me who I was. They just needed me to score.
And if I played hard enough, maybe nobody would see through me.
CHAPTER 10
TRU
Just remember that when nobody else was there for you, I was. And when nobody else gave a damn, I did. And you still walked away without looking back. I know, because I’m always watching to see if you ever turn around.
When I thoughtback on my childhood, I thought of sunny days, running free and wild, laughter, and adventure. I spent every minute side by side with my best friend. Maybe he was the sun. He was definitely the adventure. If I felt carefree and wild, it was only because Dare was by my side. He brought that out of me. My best self.
But my teen years felt darker, like storm clouds moved in and blocked all the sun.
