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I sprint down the field,making sure I turn around in time to catch the ball, but the backup quarterback barely even makes it half the distance to me. Coach blows his whistle, and I throw my head back and groan. He's going to make us keep doing this, but the fucker can't even throw the ball fifty yards.
All morning, I've felt like I'm on the verge of throwing up. Whether that's from the massive hangover I'm suffering, or the knowledge that Tye is here for revenge, I'm not sure. It's honestly a toss-up between the two. The only thing I do know is that if I blow chunks on this turf, I'll never hear the end of it.
"Again!" Coach orders. "And maybe this time actually throw it to him, Cameron."
Cam swallows nervously and nods. He rarely gets the ability to run practices, always sitting in Mason's shadow, but this is why he needs to be here. Coach blows the whistle and I take off again, this time stopping a little sooner in an attempt for the ball to actually reach me.
It doesn't.
I lean over and rest my hands on my knees. My breathing is labored, and if this keeps up, I'm going to defile this hallowed field.
"All right. Trayland, take five," Coach says, taking pity on me. "Fredricks! You're up."
Logan passes me on my way to the bench, and we bump fists. I grab my water bottle and take a seat, trying to calm my stomach down. Coach blows his whistle for them to start and as Cam fucks up the throw again, he curses under his breath.
"You boys really need to stop drinking the night before practice," he tells me.
Great. He knows.
"It was a Friday night, Coach. You're going to have a hard time getting anyone not to party on a Friday night."
Maybe it's the wrong thing to say, but thankfully, he chuckles. "Yeah, well. At least you had the decency to show up, even if you are hungover. Mason couldn't even do that."
"It won't be the last time, either," Sam chimes in. "Mason hasn't been to a Saturday morning practice in years."
"Is that right?" He glances down at his clipboard and pulls out his phone. After dialing a number, he brings it to his ear, and everyone glances at each other. "Lockhart."
"Oh shit," Jacob whispers.
"Rise and shine, Princess. You have practice," Coach barks into the phone. "Oh, you're sick? Well, if you're not here within the next fifteen minutes, you can kiss your starting spot for next Friday's game away."
The team gets a little rowdy, but with a glare from Coach Dayton, they all quiet down.
"Yes, I'm serious. I don't care if the runt is going to throw the game. I can work with him. At least he shows up." Another pause has us all on edge. "That's what I thought. I'll see you soon."
He hangs up the phone and tosses his clipboard down on the bench beside me.
"The rest of you, call it an early morning. I want some one-on-one time with Queen Quarterback."
No one asks questions as we all jump up and head into the locker room. He's probably going to run Mason until he pukes, but it's his own fault for not showing up, especially knowing our first game is coming up. We need all the practice we can get with these new plays.
Just as we're all about to leave the locker room, Mason runs in. He looks around at all of us, confusion etched across his face. Logan just pats his shoulder and shakes his head.
"You're in for it, man."
Mason sighs heavily. "Fucking great."
I don't pity him. If that phone call and the way Coach dismissed us is any indication, he's going to make an example out of Mason. No one else will try skipping a Saturday morning practice unless they're on their deathbed.
I'M SITTING ON THE couch when Jace comes out of his room, just now waking up. A part of me envies his ability to sleep in, though I'm pretty sure he went to bed later than I did last night. I think Paige tends to get a little frisky when she's been drinking, but they're so damn quiet that I never hear them.
"You look like shit," I tell him.
He chuckles but stops and grips his head. "I need coffee. Or maybe a beer. I haven't decided yet."
"You could add some Bailey's to your coffee. I'm sure that'll do the trick."
"It's actually tempting."
