“Steven. Unless I’m at school, where he’s Principal Edwards.”
Peyton walks by, smiling at me. She sits with the cheerleaders, one table down. They only sit at this table if they’re asked, which Braden says only happens to girls who are dating one of the players. I’m the exception to that because I’m Braden’s cousin, and the guys like having me here.
Aside from me, the only other girl at the table is Kristen. Alyssa’s usually here, but she’s late today. Or maybe she’s no longer invited now that she’s not dating Kade.
The other football table has a few girls, but nobody pays much attention to that table since they’re all underclassmen who aren’t worshiped the way the school worships the senior players.
Braden walks up to the table with his usual protein bar and protein-spiked drink.
“You kicked ass at practice this morning,” Miles says, sucking up to Braden before he’s even sat down.
“It wasn’t bad,” he says, turning his chair the other direction before sitting down. “Where the hell wereyou?” he asks Kade.
“Doctor’s appointment. I told you about it on Friday.”
“You went to the doctor at six in the morning?”
“The doctor’s in Anaheim. We had to leave at six to get there on time.”
Braden ignores him and rips open his protein bar.
“Why’d you go to the doctor?” I ask Kade. “Football injury?”
“Yeah.” Kade holds his arm out. “Busted my wrist in practice a few weeks ago. It was supposed to be better by now but it’s not.”
“Doesn’t mean you skip practice,” Braden says. “I busted my damn knee and I was still there.”
“I didn’t skip it on purpose,” Kade mutters, stabbing his salad with his fork.
“Try sleeping through your alarm,” Wyatt says, joining us at the table. “Did it one time and thought Braden was gonna kill me.”
“And it hasn’t happened since, has it?” Braden says.
So at least three players are injured. Three seniors. Some of the best on the team. They can still play, but not at their best.
Barron appears and sits next to Braden. “Just talked to Coach. They couldn’t see anything on the cameras.”
“The field didn’t tear up on its own,” Braden says. “Why the fuck can’t they see anything?”
“Coach said it looked like someone messed with the recording. It’s like they removed the section that showed them tearing up the grass.”
“What are you talking about?” I casually ask.
Dante answers. “Someone tore up our field a few weeks ago. We had to bring in new turf. Took up half the team’s budget to get it fixed.”
“And nobody knows who did it?”
“Everyone knows,” Braden says. “The fuckers at Legion did it. And I’m sure Novak was the one who told them to.”
Or he did it himself. The recording was erased, just like the security video from the cameras behind Brock’s house. Jackson had to have been involved.
Barron gets up. “I’m going to the gym. See you fuckers later.”
Peyton comes up behind Braden, talking in his ear. “Loved seeing you play on Friday. You look so damn hot in your uniform.”
“What do you want, Peyton?”
“Could I borrow Rumor today? She never sits at our table, and the other girls really want to meet her.”
