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“That have anything to do with Morgan?” he asks.
I chew on my tongue and when I feel his eyes on me I shrug.
“Kind of,” I huff.
He chuckles and echoes me in a super unflattering voice.
“Kind of.”
I shove his shoulder and knock him off balance.
“What, are you Cameron now?” Cameron is constantly parroting shit people say to be annoying. He likes to get under people’s skin, and that method is really effective. I glare at Theo and roll my eyes. He’s completely unfazed, and steps back up beside me, still laughing.
“It’s a lot more fun when you’re on this side of that shit. Believe me,” he says.
“Oh, I do. Because that’s super annoying,” I huff.
Theo bites his tongue for a few seconds but busts out a laugh at my expense when we get to the fieldhouse. I stop at the door, holding my hand on it to keep him from opening it.
“Dude, sorry. Your tantrum is funny. That’s all,” he says.
I sigh and fling the door open, stepping through and not holding it for him. He catches it before it swings closed and follows me down the hallway.
“Hey, wait up a minute.” He tugs on the back of my jersey, and I spin around and flatten my back to the wall with a grumble. I let my head fall back against the brick and blow up at my sweaty-ass hair. I lower my gaze and meet his face, relieved he isn’t smirking or trying to hold in more laughter. I’m miserable, and I feel as though everything is falling apart.
“What?” I relent. I’m exhausted. I’m not used to playing games for everything in life. You show up, you work hard, you do a job, and maybe if you’re lucky you get to do something you want at the end. That’s what I thought life was. This isn’t like that at all. It’s a winding route with tar pits and dead ends.
“Morgan is . . .”
I must react to him saying her name because he throws up his palm to stop me, as if I’m going to take a swing at him. My trigger-like temper is touchy right now, and frankly, I’m tired of hearing people talk shit about her . . . though I did, which is why I feel like this.
“Morgan is resilient. That’s what I was going to say.” Theo’s head tilts to the side, his mouth a flat, sincere line. I consider that word and how it aligns with everything I know about her and decide he’s right.
“Yeah, okay,” I say.
“Of every student in this school, she’s the toughest. My sister and I grew up with her. Our families went to the same boring-ass parties, and we had to endure a lot of the same shit. That world made me angry, and it made my sister feel small. Morgan wears the wounds from it, too. She takes more shots than most of us. But that girl—” He pauses and puffs out a quick laugh. I meet his eyes and take in his admiring smile. “She was twelve and figured out that if she was going to have to live in that world she may as well profit off of it. You know that her brand alone, nothing to do with her dad, is worth millions?Mill-ions.”
I swallow at that thought. I’ve never really thought about that side of things with her. Before I knew her, she was this semi-famous personality that yeah, I definitely wanted to brag about to the guys back home. And then I got to know her, and she was this smart, beautiful creature. She’s a genuine force, though. Theo’s right.
He pats my chest a few times with a heavy hand, and I cough out a laugh.
“I’m sorry my passes were shit today. I’ll be on when it’s game time. Promise.”
Theo points at me, finger right in my face.
“I know you will. Because Toby can’t even throw a party, so if you let your moody ass get you benched, we’re getting our asses kicked Saturday.” His eyebrows shoot up to punctuate his point then he heads into the locker room.
I head inside a few seconds later, not wanting to wait around for Toby to drag his ass in here. Theo’s right about everything. And I don’t have a lot of time to fix shit on the field. Tomorrow’s practice was cut short so the team can go to the swim meet to cheer on Lily. Looks like I’ve got an early morning ahead of me.
* * *
My mom is deep into somebody’s tax forms at the table when I walk in. I can always tell when she’s dealing with a difficult client because she doubles up her reading glasses, forgetting that she’s already got a pair on her head.
“Leftovers in the fridge. We still have some of the carnitas left too, if you want that. Nothing fancy, but I’m going to be in these files for a solid week.” She pulls the glasses from her eyes and rubs the bridge of her nose. I step up and take the pair from her head, then kiss her hair. She laughs when I hand the spectacles to her.
“That’s how you knowshit has gotten real,” she jokes.
We both laugh. I head into my room, dropping my stuff by the door and grabbing the fresh T-shirt and sweats from the basketful of clean stuff I still need to put away. I tear off my sweaty practice shirt and toss it on the chair but do a double take when a blue and gold card catches my attention. I lift my shirt back up and Morgan’s ID card slides from the chair to the floor. I stare at it for a few long seconds, trying to figure out what this means and who left it here.
