He’d done his hair too, styling his fade into a soft brown quiff that was just a little messy.
Cyprian Cusumano really was a beautiful guy.
I hated myself for thinking so.
“Sorry. I’m ready.”
“It’s cool.”
Everyone at practice treated me like I was made of glass. Perhaps seeing me take a knee to the balls had brought the guys face-to-face with their own frail mortality.
That kind of thing could be deeply unsettling.
When Coach called a time-out, I grabbed my water bottle and wandered over to the bleachers to stretch my calves. Coach followed me.
“How’s it going, Darius?”
She was using my first name again, like I needed to be handled.
“Okay.”
“Will you be able to play this Friday?”
“Yeah. For sure.”
“Good.” She nodded at me and then wandered away, her clipboard tucked under her arm, to shout at Jaden and Gabe for horsing around.
I held on to the bleachers for a hammy stretch.
Even though I was kind of annoyed everyone was taking it easy on me, I really did love that Coach and the team cared about me like that.
It was pretty cool, having a team.
I’d never had something like that before.
After practice was over, Christian called all us together.
“Good work today, guys,” he said.
He had this warm, calming voice when he talked normally—like he was doing now—which was nothing like his Captain Voice.
Christian’s Captain Voice would not have been out of place on the bridge of a starship.
“Game against Meadowbrook this Friday. Let’s crush it!”
We all cheered.
“And party after. My place. I got the new FIFA.”
“Woo!” Jaden shouted, and high-fived Christian.
I looked at Chip, who shrugged and grinned.
I had never been to a party before.
Was it the kind of party people had on TV? With drugs and alcohol and sex and broken furniture?
“What if I suck at FIFA?” Chip whispered to me.
