“What that guy said just now. About Legion players getting injured. Are they planning something?”
He laughs. “Of course not. He’s just joking.”
“What if theyare? What if that guy knows something? Maybe Miles told him they’re going to do something.”
He eyes me. “Why are you so concerned about the Legion players?”
“I’m not. But I don’t want the guys on our team beating up another team just so we win. Or what if they got arrested and couldn’t play?”
“I think you’re worrying far too much about this. Harris was just making a joke. He didn’t mean anything by it.” Brock looks back at his phone and sighs.
“What’s wrong?”
“I haven’t heard back from an audition. I was supposed to hear something by today.”
“Is this for the show that shoots in Canada?”
“No, that one’s out. They cast someone younger. This was for the movie Morgan is doing.”
“She’s the star of it, right? Can’t she do something to make sure you get the role?”
“She could, but I doubt she will. She’d have to demand they give it to me and threaten to leave if they don’t. I can’t see her doing that, not when she’s working her way to the top. When she’s a bigger star, she can make those types of demands but she’s not there yet.”
“So you don’t get the role. You’ll get another one.”
“It’s not that easy. There aren’t many roles for men my age. And when there are, they cast men who are ten years younger. I’ve been going on auditions all summer and haven’t even been asked back.” His jaw tightens. “I can’t keep auditioning without getting a role. It’s going to ruin my reputation.”
“I’m sure something will come along soon,” I tell him.
My phone dings with a text from Trystan.
You’re seriously sitting with my dad?
I look across the field and see Trystan looking back at me as he walks with his friends toward the student section.
I didn’t want him to sit alone, I text back.
Yeah, right. You’re just sucking up after getting in trouble.
Trystan and his friends take the row a few up from the field. There are at least ten of them, and I see more following behind. It must be the whole soccer team.
“Is that Trystan?” Brock asks, his eyes on his phone.
“He just got here. How’d you see him? You didn’t even look up.”
“I meant on your phone. I assumed that’s who you were texting.” He looks up, scanning the bleachers. “Where is he?”
“Over there.” I nod in Trystan’s direction, not wanting to point when everyone’s watching. People have been staring at me since I got here. They probably think the principal forced meto sit here as punishment for hitting Kristen. “He’s behind the cheerleaders.”
Brock spots him, then does something on his phone and brings it to his ear.
“I want you home by midnight,” he says.
I watch as Trystan stands up, his phone to his ear, staring in our direction.
“I don’t care what your plans were,” Brock says. “You spent all afternoon with them. And you’re with them now. You don’t need to be with them all night.” Brock leans forward, rubbing his eyes. “I’m not arguing with you about this. I want you home by midnight or you lose the car.” He listens. “You know why. Every year something happens after the first game. I’m not replacing another car because some stupid kids got out of control.” He sits up, staring across the field at Trystan. “Your brotherhasto go out. He’s part of the team.” He straightens up even more, gripping his phone. “Enough! You keep talking and the car is gone. As in sold. Or I’ll give it to Rumor. Then she’ll be the one drivingyouaround.” He puts his phone down and shakes his head. “Some days I wish I never had children.”
“Why? What’d he say?”
