My arms automatically cross as well. “Fine.”
He cracks his neck and sighs. “These players are close, and it can be hard being the new guy. Sometimes they get too comfortable with each other. What upset you?” I frown, and his arms drop to his lap. “I’m not asking you to narc on anyone.”
“They told me it was an inside joke and I overreacted.” I shrug. “I’m not sure how Brant was in on the inside joke and not me.” He uses a hand motion for me to keep talking, so I give him the shorthand of what happened.
The coach shakes his head. “King spaces out sometimes. We’re lucky it’s never happened during a game. That could be dangerous.” He laughs humorlessly. “Here’s the thing. Benz is basically harmless, and King knows it. That being said, what Benz said crossed a line. It’s gutsy to stick up for what’s right when you’re alone. You did the right thing. Thank you for speaking up.” He stands and pats my shoulder. “You’re looking good out there. Keep up the good work.”
That was not what I expected. I should be relieved, but I’m not.
The only reason I spoke up was because no one ever had the courage to stand up to my stepfather when he went on a homophobic rant. I guess I wanted to be the person I hoped would come and save me.
“Sarah?” I call into the King family’s cavernous apartment. It seems like my mother went to a designer and asked for the most expensive things with no thought of how they would work together. But it’s chic because it costs a fortune.
I’m sure she asked me to live here for the sole purpose of redecorating it. She wouldn’t even let me pick anything out for my room.
“I’m in here.” Her voice carries from far away but gives me no clue as to what room she’s in. I cross the entryway and peek into the kitchen. That would be the last place I’d usually look, but it’s the first room down that hall. I double back to the living room and stare out the floor-to-ceiling windows. There’s a view of Central Park, but if you ask me, it’s wasted because we’re too high up to see anything but green and pavement.
My mother went for French Victorian decor. Everything looks like it should be in a museum with ropes around it, and it’s uncomfortable as fuck.
I find Sarah reading in the library.
“Don’t tell me you found something in here to read.” I survey the pristine room.
“Right.” She snickers and holds up an e-reader. “Smut all the way, baby.”
“Anything good?” I take the chair next to her.
“For me, yes. You would need to bleach your eyeballs after reading this. It’s some seriously dark fairy shit.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I admit. All the books in here look old and distinguished. I wouldn’t be surprised to find an encyclopedia set.
“I’ll keep you as innocent as possible.” She shuts the e-reader and faces me. “What’s up? Your face is saying something your mouth is not.”
Asking my only friend how to make other friends when I’m not sure I want to be their friend is stupid. Fuck those guys. “You know I love having you here.”
“I sense a but coming.” Her shoulders droop.
“No, not a but. Why are you avoiding going home?” I lean forward with my hands on my knees.
“That obvious, huh?” She gets up and curls into my lap.
“Only to someone who knows your darkest secrets.” I kiss the side of her head. We bonded in middle school when I discovered I’m bi and she came out to me as a lesbian. Our families weren’t amused. I never came out to anyone other than Sarah, but John caught me behind the bleachers with a boy as we were about to kiss.
I never said another word, but I had to hear him disparage gay people. He confided that his son believes gays are abominations and had suspicions about me.
“How can I escape them? They won’t let me make my own money and control everything.” She sniffs and I hug her.
“Move in with me. Get a job here, and I’ll help you out until you can get your own place.” Having her here is the best-case scenario.
“Right.” Sarah sits up to grab a tissue. “They have my location on my phone. You better believe they’ll tell your parents, and then what happens? You get cut off too, and we’re both on the street.” She wipes her eyes with a wry smile.
“Who cares? I can probably ask for a chunk of the money I’ve made. Just got another endorsement, and I can loan you money, or we can find a place together.” My chin juts out to show a confidence I don’t feel.
“And your mom?” she whispers.
My heart clenches and, for all my talk, I allow John to control me because he’s my mother’s dictator. I need to ask for my money and justify expenses. He threatens to throw her out whenever I do something he doesn’t like. I don’t remember life after my father died, but she relied on friends until she found another man to marry her. My mom hasn’t worked a day in her life and wouldn’t survive a divorce. She signed an unfair prenup, and my huge salary can’t compete with living off old family money.
“It’s okay.” She strokes my cheek. “We all have our price. Mine is my pride, and yours is your mom. Someday we’ll say fuck it and mean it.”
