Only Trent Bolger got off light, because apparently he had a “bad case of shin splints.”
The Sportsball-Industrial Complex at work.
By the time Coach Winfield blew his whistle, I thought I was going to throw up. Even Gabe was bent over his knees, gulping for air and looking a little green, and like I said, he was the fastest guy I knew.
“All right, gentlemen,” Coach Winfield shouted. “Get cleaned up and get out of here.”
I limped to the locker room, trailing behind Jaden and Gabe. Both of them had their hands behind their heads in Surrender Cobra, which was unfair, because they both had really nice shoulder muscles.
I wished mine looked that nice.
“Perv alert,” Trent said behind me.
“Shut up, Trent.”
“Make me, Dairy Queen.” He jogged ahead of me, flashing me his middle finger.
Jaden turned around. “Did he—”
“Yeah,” Gabe said, glaring at Trent’s retreating back. “How can you let him get away with stuff like that?”
I shrugged. “It could be worse. Last year he kept calling me a terrorist.”
Jaden frowned. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
The thing about Gabe and Jaden was, they were nice guys, but they never had to deal with being Targets. They never knew what that was like until they met me and saw how Trent treated me.
I think they understood something about me just then.
Jaden slowed until I came alongside him and rested his arm across my shoulder.
“You’re a cool guy, Darius,” he said. “You don’t deserve that.”
And Gabe took my other side and said, “We’ve got your back.”
I wanted to cry.
Just a little bit.
But I couldn’t do that in front of them.
So instead I said, “Thanks. But it’s best not to dwell on such minutiae.”
CATASTROPHIC HULL BREACH
“How’d you do?” Chip asked. He was already dressed for practice, leaning up against a locker with his arms folded as I laced up my cleats.
“Hm?”
“On your algebra.”
“Got a C. Hanging in there.”
“You want to go over it later?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
