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My face scrunches in disgust, and I take a step back from the list. I don’t even clean the toilet bowl in our apartment. I’ve never cleaned that thing in my life. Even when Rachel made me clean the bathroom after she first moved in, I didn’t touch the bowl. I grab the pen Jason gave me, moving to write my name across the line.
But won’t he know? A little voice in the back of my head asks. He’ll see that you lied. If he fires you, you’ll be back at square one. There aren’t a lot of jobs on campus, and you have almost nothing on your resume. Just suck it up and clean the bowl.
I groan. My hand hovers between me and the door. I edge towards it, telling myself it doesn’t matter. However, my hand drops and my shoulders slump. I trudge towards sink, grabbing a bar of soap and several paper towels before shuffling into one of the stalls.
Let’s just get this done and over with.
I open one of the seats and cough, stifling the need to gag as I stare into the yellowed bowl with residue caking it. How do I do this? I glance at the bar of soap before swiveling my gaze back to the paper towels stuffed in my hand. I rub the two together, frowning at the lack of froth. With a frustrated sigh, I stalk back to the sink, wetting the towel slightly before rubbing it against the soap once more. My frown deepens when I create only a few soap suds, but I guess that’s just going to have to work.
I crouch next to the toilet bowl, clamping my eyes close while my arm reaches inside, sliding the towel against the rim. My stomach twists and my throat constricts as the need to retch overwhelms me.I can do this, I tell myself.Everyone does this. The maid does this. Seth does this. I’m sure Rachel and Hunter have cleaned it before.
“What are you doing?”
My eyes shoot open, and I see Jason towering over me, staring at me as if I’ve suddenly transformed into a frog. I kinda feel like a frog in this position. I smile up at him while trying the form the words.
“I’m- well,” I stutter, feeling even more confused and awkward when Jason places his hands on his hips. “I’m cleaning the toilet.”
He blinks at me. “Didn’t you find the gloves and spray in the cabinet.”
“Gloves?” I repeat, watching him stride towards the cabinet under the sink. He throws open the door and my stomach constricts again with the need to vomit as I see a pair of yellow gloves and some bowl cleaner staring back at me.
“O-oh,” I say, feeling all color leave my face.
My hand instantly drops the towel, and very carefully, I remove my hand from inside.
“I just came in to tell you to help us up front,” says Jason, sounding absolutely disgusted. “We just got a huge crowd of Freshmen.”
“Y-yes,” I say before swallowing the thick lump in my throat. “Can you-you just give me a,” I swallow again before continuing, “minute?”
Jason scoffs and shakes his head. “Fine.” He turns on his heel and strides briskly to the door. “Just ask me next time if you have a question. Christ Almighty, that’s disgusting.”
I wait until the door clicks closed before lurching towards the toilet and vomiting my insides into it. Yep, this is definitely going to be difficult.
4
HUNTER
MyfistsclenchasI walk into practice, trying to ignore all the stares in my direction.I can do this, I tell myself. Football is my dream. I had a messy semester. Everyone has a messy semester from time to time. Although, I doubt everyone can say they became addicted to pills and drugs which left them not caring about anything but getting the next fix.
Sure, I hit rock bottom. However, this semester I am a new and approved Hunter Smith, and I am going to rise back to the top. I open my locker and throw my bag inside. The first Wednesday practice usually involves little exercise. It’s more getting to know the Freshman and listening
to Coach rant on and on about how this year is going to be different. And it will be.
This year we are getting into the NCAA Football Bowl Subdivision.
If I can get the team into the Subdivision, then there will be scouts asking for me from left and right. And then all will be right with the world. I slam my locker door shut and turn around, finding curious looks from the Freshmen and deep scowls from my teammates.
I’ll just have to prove myself worthy.
“Smith,” I hear Coach call from the dark hallway. He waves me forward, and I don’t make him wait. I jog towards him, my skin prickling with worry as a chill ripples down my spine.This will definitely not be good, I think while approach him.
“Yes, Coach?” I ask, meeting his gaze. If he’s going to reprimand me, I will meet it head on. I’m not scared of him. I know he’s pissed with me. I let the team down last year and I will most likely need to prove myself this year. Luckily, Aurora didn’t get rid of my scholarship. I was officially caught, so there was nothing the school could do to punish me.
“In my office,” Coach says calmly, which only makes my insides freeze over in doubt.
Coach being calm is never a good sign. I’m used to him kicking the grass, shouting, screaming, waving his fists; none of those are calm. I follow him inside, pausing in front of his desk while he shuts the door behind me. He strides around me and throws himself into his chair. His eyes narrow on me. I’m keenly aware he doesn’t offer me to sit down. Obviously, he’s going to make this quick.
“What are you doing here, Smith?”
