“She’s a football fan,” Jett told him as he rested against a wall. It seemed to be the only spare piece of wall that wasn’t covered, and I knew I should have been looking at Coach, but I was drinking in the pictures on the wall.
“Holy shit, this is Devonte Carlson,” I said, whirling to look at Coach Bowers.
He looked at me in confusion before he nodded. “Yeah, good player.”
“Good player? Are you joking?” I moved to the wall. “He’s the GOAT! Over a thousand passing and rushing yards three seasons in a row, the guy moves like a hot knife through butter.”
“As I said,” Jett said dryly, “she likes football.”
Aware that all eyes were on me, I flushed. “I’m sorry,” I rushed out. “I’m not here to stare at your wall.” My eyes darted back to it, and I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders as Jett pushed me down into a chair.
“Focus,” he said quietly into my ear.
“Sorry.”
Coach was looking between the two of us, his eyes curious, but his lips were pressed together tightly.
“You know why you’re here?” he asked me.
“I think so,” I told him.
“This is the team’s doctor, Isabell Sanchez. She was the one who tested the sample from Santo that Saturday morning.” Coach pointed toward Ash and Gray. “These two are here because it seems private meeting means shit to them.”
Looking at the two of them, I saw Ash grin and Gray stare impassively back at me.
“My understanding is they come as a package.” I opted for light and cheerful.
Coach snorted and leaned back in his seat, his hands clasped in front of him. “I’ve had your school records looked at.”
“Why?” I asked. He now had my full attention.
“You’re one of three people in this school on a full ride.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “My understanding was that this school didn’t discriminate against the scholarship kids.” It was true. Sure, you could spot the money kids, but that was true in any walk of life. In some colleges, they gave you a card that declared to all whenever you used it what your college payment plan was. Cardinal Saints didn’t. When I handed my card over to pay for books, food, hell, even a coffee, it was the same card as anyone else’s.
“We don’t.” Coach watched me. “But I also know you got pulled into the dean’s office last week for making a side profit.”
I glanced at the silent observers to my right. “Yes,” I answered.
“Which tells me you’re either stupid to throw away a full scholarship or desperate.” Coach didn’t break my eye contact. “You don’t strike me as stupid.”
“That’s what Dean Porter said,” I muttered as I fidgeted in my seat. “I’ll tell you what I told him, which is the truth, and trust me, if you’d received the call I got from my mom afterward, you’d feel bad for me.”
“Explain.”
Looking at Jett again, I flinched at his hard stare before I turned to look at Coach and the doctor. She looked nice. “I’m a fully funded scholarship recipient,” I began. “I applied here on a whim, and the school must have liked what I had to offer, because as you rightly said, I got the whole shebang.” My finger rubbed over my eyebrow. “But . . .” I sighed, “I get my tuition paid, my books, my housing and my food.”
“Nice,” Ash murmured.
“Yeah, well, have you eaten in the cafeteria?” I asked him. When he nodded, I turned back to Coach. “It’s the same food every week. For a seventy-five grand tuition cost per student, the food could be better. I got a side income so I could buy and make my own food.”
I sat in the silence and waited. Dean Porter had also been silent, but the doctor leaned forward.
“You risked it all so you could eat in your apartment?”
I nodded. “Look, my mom sends me an allowance, and I know I sound like a whiny shit, but I wasn’t asking her to break the bank so I can eat fresh pasta. My friend offered me cash if I provided a service for him, and it meant I earned fifty bucks at a time and my mom didn’t have to waste any more money on me.”
“You risked a full ride for fifty bucks?” Ash asked me in disbelief.
