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Coach, however, offered them no such assurances. “This is the part where you sit with your mouths closed and your ears open,” he informed all of us. We were in the locker room, most of us had showered and changed, but no one had been allowed to leave. “For the last few weeks, our heads have not been in this game.”
When one of the other kids began to protest, Coach raised his hand and cut him off.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion, and I don’t want it.” Hands on his hips, Coach stared until the mutters stopped.
I leaned back against my locker, and Jake leaned next to me, arms folded. I still couldn’t run a pass. If I was lucky, I might get off the bench next week.
Not that I cared much one way or the other. Playing the guitar had been a little tougher, and I’d made that work. That was the thing I cared about more now, rather than the game, as sacrilegious as that might be.
“Are we focused now? Are you hearing me?”
A round of “Yes, Coach,” came from all of us.
“Good. What makes a team a team is we work together. What makes a team successful is we support each other.”
Jake’s whole body went tense, and I bumped his shoulder. The last thing we needed was him unloading on Coach.
“But being a team player is about more than being on a team, it’s about being worthy of that support.” Coach swung his gaze over all of us. “We’ve had our ups and our downs. I know you’re all saying we lost a good player, maybe we did. Maybe we didn’t. While Ican’tcomment on it, I am telling you that as a team, you need to pull it together and support the guy standing next to you and the guy standing next to him. The guys who are still here, who are bringing it. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Coach.”
He nodded once.
“Get out of here and rest for tomorrow. I expect one hundred and ten percent on that field and to support each other. Got it?”
Another round of “Yes, Coach,” and then the team broke up. I twisted to grab my backpack out of the locker along with my duffle. All my training clothes needed to go home for the weekend. Not that I’d gotten them that dirty.
Jake didn’t move, not at first, his attention narrowed on a couple of Mitch’s besties who scowled and glared back.
Slamming my door closed, I slid the backpack strap over my shoulder and stared at the pair myself. Jackson Taylor and Shawn Abbey weren’t my favorite people. Hell, they didn’t even rank on the list of assholes above general douche. They were decent players and offered support on the offensive line.
But they were Mitch’s boys through and through.
“What are you looking at Rhys?” Shawn demanded when he met my gaze.
“Shut up, Shawn,” Coach barked, and Shawn actually jerked at the sound and glanced to where Coach stood in the doorway to his office. He hadn’t closed it. “Get your things and go rest up. Save it for the game.”
“Sure,” Jackson said. “We’ll save it for the game.” Then he cut a look at us before he slammed his locker door and the pair left.
“Wouldn’t take much to catch up to them,” Jake said, the threat in his voice anything but idle.
“Don’t,” I cautioned. “It’s what they want.” Not that I wouldn’t risk a few more broken knuckles to knock them on their ass.
Before Jake could say anything, Coach called us. “Get in my office, boys.”
With a sigh, Jake rolled his eyes, but we went. Once inside, he motioned us to sit down and then dropped into his own chair. After pulling his ball cap off, he ran a hand over his balding pate. Coach had been in charge of the football team for more than twenty years. He’d been an assistant coach before that. I’d always liked him—he was a straight shooter, but he loved the game.
That he’d given that speech had to have been hard for him.
“If you want us to drop off the team, Coach, just say the word.” Jake’s tone bordered on belligerent. “But I’m not helping that asshole’s friends accomplish crap.”
Well, that was one way to win points and influence people. Not that I disagreed. “Can’t say I’m feeling the team spirit there either,” I told Coach. “I know you can’t talk about it.” That part I understood. There were legalities involved. “But I know what happened. I was there.” I’d been involved. “I’m glad he’s gone.”
“Well, as you said, I can’t comment, and no, Jake, I don’t want you two off the team. I want you to focus up. You’re both in strong positions. You’re critical to the team’s success. What I want to know is do you want to be here?”
“If I say no,” Jake said, “what happens then?”
Wait. I glanced at him. “Really?” This was the first I’d heard he didn’t care whether he was on the team or not. We’d been fighting for a position on this team from the spring before high school started. We’d both tried out, practiced, bucked each other up, and earned our spots. We’d fought to keep those spots each year.
