“You’ll tell me why you lied to me?”
“Yes, Luca. Later.Please.” She looks away, color flooding her cheeks, so I return my gaze to Coach. I don’t know what’s going on here, but the tortured look Chelsea flashed me just now was so genuinely panicky, it convinced me to back off. For now.
“And finally,” Coach Parker says. “Let me introduce you to the woman in charge of it all, the owner of the Mastodons, Ms. Ginny Williams!”
As the crowd applauds, Coach Parker hands the microphone to the nice white-haired lady who smiled at me earlier.
“Oh my goodness, hello, everyone,” Ginny says brightly with a cute little wave to the fans in attendance in the distance.“I won’t be speaking very much this season. Not here or at press conferences, either, because it’s my plan to remain in the background and learn everything I can while letting these talented people run the show.” She smiles ruefully. “My husband, Rupert, loved this team more than anything in the world, other than his family. So, I’m thrilled to breathe new life into it, in his honor.” She blows a kiss to the heavens and then raises her manicured fist to the sky and shouts, “Go Mastodons!”
“Go Mastodons!” the entire crowd, players, personnel, and fans shout in unison. But surely the players in attendance are only shouting out of respect and politeness. Ginny seems like a nice lady, but she’s delusional if she thinks anyone, even Coach Parker, can right this wonky ship.
“Thank you, Ginny,” Coach Parker says, after taking the mic from her. “Okay, training camp has officially begun. Players, go get your assigned iPads and equipment before grabbing breakfast and fueling up. We’ve got a long day ahead of us, and lots of long, grueling days after that. Go Mastodons!”
As we all cheer again, Coach hands the microphone to an assistant, at which point he’s immediately pulled into conversation with Ms. Williams. I turn to resume my earlier conversation with Chelsea, but she’s not next to me any longer. In fact, she’s a few feet away, marching across the field like her hair’s on fire.
“Chelsea! Wait up.”
She stops and exhales.
“Not now, Luca. Wait till we’re alone.”
“So you remember me?”
“Of course I do. But given the current situation, can’t we please pretend Bloomington never happened? Nobody here will ever take me seriously if they find out what I did with you, and I’m already fighting an uphill battle to be taken seriously.Plus, my father would cut you if he found out, so it wouldn’t be in your best interest to say a word.”
I roll my eyes. “Your secret’s safe with me. I’m just dying to know why you lied and pretended not to know anything about football. Just tell me that one thing now. Were you just fucking with me and pretending to like me? Were you making fun of me, and I didn’t realize it?”
“No. That wasn’t it at all.” She exhales. “I’ll tell you everything later, I promise. But until then, pretend you don’t know me.Please.” With that, she runs off, leaving me buzzing and confused. Coming here, I didn’t think anything could make me even think about sticking it out with the Mastodons beyond today, but now I’m thinking maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if it took Cameron a few days to find me a new team.
Speaking of Cameron …
I covertly pull my contraband phone out my shorts and take a peek and discover I’ve got a text from him telling me to call him ASAP.
As I try to figure out where to go to call my agent so nobody sees the phone I’m not supposed to have with me, a deep male voice calls out my name from my left. When I turn to look, it’s Coach Parker. To my shock, he’s striding toward me with his daughter at his side.
Quickly, I shove my phone into my pocket and greet them. As Chelsea so urgently requested a moment ago, I act like I’ve never met her when Coach Parker introduces her.
“So, listen, Luca,” Coach Parker says. “That stunt you pulled on the uprights really pissed me off. You put yourself in danger, and you also set a terrible example for all the rookies who look up to you. And so, as the punishment for that crime, I’ve asked Chelsea to babysit you and keep you out of trouble for the duration of training camp.”
“Babysit me?” I look between Chelsea and her father. “I don’t understand.”
Coach Parker shrugs like the term speaks for itself. “For the duration of your stay here, however long or short that might be, Chelsea is going to be stuck to you like glue.” Coach smirks like he’s amused by the look of indignation on my face. “And if you’re smart, during that time, you’ll take advantage of her enormous talents as a linebacker coach and get some extra work in with her. But that part is up to you.”
I shake my head scornfully, feeling far too outraged by the man’s insult to realize the situation he’s suggesting would incidentally allow me to spend more time with Chelsea the Mathlete.
“Suit yourself,” Coach Parker says with a shrug. “Either way, if you choose to stay here, Chelsea’s going to shadow you in order to keep you out of trouble and out of my hair, whether you like it or not. That’s what happens when you pull a stupid stunt like that and force me to make an example out of you, son. Enjoy your camp. If you choose to leave, best of luck to you.”
With that, he marches away, not looking back, which then prompts Chelsea to flash me an apologetic look and follow suit.
When they’re gone, I pull out my phone and tap out a text to Cameron.
Me: Can’t call right now. Not supposed to have my phone. Did you find me a new team, hopefully?
After pressing send on my text, I look for Chelsea and find her chatting animatedly with the linebacker coach about thirty yards away. She looks excited. Ebullient, I’d even say, and he’s patting her shoulder like she’s just thanked him for something. If I had to guess, my earlier hunch was right: Chelsea was surprised and thrilled when Coach Martinez introduced her as one of his staff members, and now she’s thanking him for it.
As I’m still watching Chelsea, my phone buzzes with Cameron’s reply text.
Cameron: The Thunderbolts. Roman pulled some strings for you.
