His brows rise. “Since when did you become a fan of football?”
“It’s not about football. It’s about being here with my friends.”
“You have friends?” he says with surprise. “I thought you hated these people.”
“I don’t hate them. I just need time to get used to them. Peyton seems okay. I could go back and sit with her, and she could take me home after the game.”
Brock folds his arms over his chest. “Peyton Sanders is a lying, manipulative whore who finds amusement in destroying people’s lives to add interest to her own.”
I pause, not sure if he’s lying or telling the truth. His description does sound a little like Peyton, making me think she’s not someone I should be around. She sounds like trouble, which is something I definitely don’t need right now.
“How do you know Peyton so well?” I ask.
“Let’s just say her little tricks didn’t work on me. I’d advise you to stay away from her.”
“When I told you I was going to sit with her you acted like you wanted me to.”
“Actedis the key word there. I wanted her to think I was okay with it, even though I wasn’t. It’s how you have to be withher. She lives in her own delusional world and if you disrupt that world, she comes after you.”
“Like with Principal Ballantine?”
He cocks his head. “She told you about that?”
“Not in detail. She said she wasn’t allowed to talk about it, but she told me enough that I could figure out what happened. She didn’t seem to care she got the guy fired.”
“He wasn’t fired. He stepped down. And it wasn’t solely based on his relations with Peyton.”
“What were the other reasons?”
He glances at the field. “Let’s go. I have things I need to get done tonight.”
As we turn to leave, a guy runs past us. He’s from the other team. His helmet is off, and his face and hair are all sweaty.
“Tell Braden to get well soon,” he says to Brock with a hint of a smile, before continuing down the sidelines.
“Who was that?” Brock asks as we’re leaving the stadium.
“That’s the guy who ran into Braden. Number 34.” I grab Brock’s arm, stopping him. “Did you see how he smiled like that? Like he was happy with himself? He did it on purpose. He hurt Braden because he wanted him out of the game.”
“Why? The kid’s team was already losing. They couldn’t possibly catch up and win the game.”
“Yeah, but maybe he wanted him out for the season. Maybe he doesn’t want Twisted Pine to win. Or go to State.”
Brock sighs as we head down the long sidewalk that leads to the parking lot. “I’m so tired of these discussions about football and going to State. I’ll be glad when it’s all over and we can stop obsessing over this ridiculous game.”
“You’ve never liked football? Not even when you were a kid?”
“No. My father did, but Devon and I weren’t interested. We’d rather stay home and watch a movie. Our father would force usto go to a football game now and then but all we’d do is complain and ask to go home.”
“If you don’t like football, how did Braden get into it?”
“Friends. He saw other boys playing it and didn’t want to be left out. As he got older, he noticed football players got attention from girls. Seeing that made him want to be the best. And he’s succeeded. He’s the best player at Twisted Pine.”
We arrive at the car and get inside. Brock checks his phone again before starting the engine.
“Did you hear anything?” I ask. “From your agent?”
“No.” He clears his throat. “I didn’t think I would on a Friday night.”
