Eventually, Coach looks at his watch and then back at us. “I’m very disappointed. Get up and hit the field. We’ll be doing drills all day today.”
A chorus of groans echoes what I’m thinking. Drills are hardcore workouts. Burpees, pushups, sprints. They suck.
Coach waves his hand to shut us up. “Until the two people responsible for the vandalism fess up, you’ll be doing drills every practice. I’m tempted to forfeit all of our games as well.”
“Fucking turn yourself in,” Mickey yells, glowering at his teammates.
“Yeah!” someone else says.
I nod like an idiot, like I agree with them. The guilty person should just turn themselves in.
I’ve never felt more stupid in my life.
We hit the field and do drills until my chest aches and my leg muscles are screaming. Everyone bitches about it, and the guys keep telling each other to just turn yourself in if you did the vandalism. Carlos Valdes even makes a stand at one point, saying how do we know those hoodies in the video are even real, or that two other people, maybe players from our rival team didn’t steal our hoodies to commit this crime on purpose.
I have to admit, I get behind that one. We all talk it out while doing the drills, coming up with scenarios where maybe the hoodies were faked, made with a homemade screen printing machine for the sole purpose of malice.
Coach doesn’t care about any of our theories, though. He just makes us do drills until our two hours is over and we all feel like we’re going to die.
I hit the locker room and shower quickly. All I want to do is get home and take another shower, one with actual hot water, and then down some pain meds to soothe my aching muscles. I thought I was in pretty good shape before today. But doing two hours of drills really wears you out.
The locker room is quieter than usual as we pack up to head home. It’s like everyone is suspicious of everyone else. We’re all looking for someone to blame for the extra drill punishment we all had to endure. I keep to myself, knowing the blame lies solely with TJ and me, and feeling like absolute shit for it.
But there’s no way I can turn myself in now. My dad would kill me. The team would hate me. TJ would be pissed. Not to mention, it would be embarrassing as hell.
I grab my keys and head out to the parking lot, realizing I’m one of the last guys to leave. I guess everyone else was so pissed and exhausted that they rushed home. I walk slowly, my legs still aching, making my way out to my truck which is parked on the last row. Now I wish I hadn’t gotten to school late today so I could have parked closer and saved myself this agonizing walk.
I glance over at the destroyed greenhouse as I pass it, noting that it’s totally in the boundaries of the daycare’s property. How had I not noticed that before? The grass is even a little greener over there because they have a sprinkler system installed.
I nearly trip over my own feet when I see someone sitting there, at the heap of rubble that used to be a greenhouse.
She’s folded her knees up to her chest, and her chin rests on top of them. I recognize her hair first. It’s the girl from my homeroom class. Clarissa something.
I get into my truck and watch her. I wonder if she needs a ride home. There’s only two cars left in the parking lot, mine and Coach’s. But she’s just sitting there, not looking like she’s in a hurry to leave.
Why would anyone want to sit by an old greenhouse?
She lifts her head and uses both of her hands to wipe under her eyes. Is she crying?
Over a stupid greenhouse?
I bite on my lip. I don’t even know this girl but now I’m dying to ask her what she’s doing, mourning the loss of something that belongs to a daycare. But just like earlier today when I could have come clean, I don’t do what I should do. If the way that girl treats me in class is any indication, she doesn’t want me poking around in her life trying to ask what’s wrong. So I let it go, start my truck and drive away.
