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The lights dim and a spotlight shines on the stage. “If everyone could take their seats, we are going to start the celebrations and recognitions,” our school dean speaks into a mic. Hand in hand, Emree and I head back to our table.
As the dean goes through the different teams’ praises, making sure not to point out how terrible our football team is, food is served, and we chow down while a few different administrators and coaches go up to speak. They play a slideshow of various snapshots from games and practices.
After all the other teams’ coaches have spoken and passed out various awards to their players, Coach Walters passes the girls’ soccer coach on the stage and grabs the mic.
“Listen, I’m not good at this fancy stuff, but it’s part of the requirement for being the coach, so I guess I need to do it,” he grumbles, and the team laughs. “First off, I would like to say a huge congratulations to the girls’ soccer team. You all have blown me away with your determination and drive this season, and even though you came in second, know that you all are great players, and I can feel it in my gut that next season is yours for the taking.” The girls’ coach is wiping her eyes from her table. “And Coach Eastman, you’re one hell of a leader, and the way you lead your team is admirable.”
As if we are all thinking the same thing, each of us on the guys’ team stands and claps for not only our coeds but Coach Eastman. She and all her players are smiling as we show our admiration.
Once everyone settles down, Coach continues. “Boys, you all continue to prove everyone wrong. Not only are we one of the smaller schools and that means funding is nowhere near what these larger universities have, but this season should have been one of our worst, considering we lost the majority of our starters who graduated last year.”
Coach looks over at Camden, who is leaning against the table, hanging on to every word. “Camden, when you came to this school, you were a punk-ass kid who didn’t respect authority and thought showing up late to practice and mouthing off would be okay, and boy, were you in for a rude awakening.” We’re all laughing, remembering freshman Camden. “The man before me is not at all like that kid. You have shifted into the team captain role flawlessly and taken our new players under your wing. You’re a born leader, young man.”
Admiration and appreciation light up on Camden’s face as he listens to our coach. Growing up without a father, I know Camden struggled to take orders from male authority. It took a while for him to warm up to his high school coach years ago and they eventually became close. Coming to a new team, Camden was reluctant to accept being told what to do, but Coach Walters was straightforward with Camden about how he needed to get his act together, and he did.
Coach continues to thank his assistant coaches and show his appreciation for the rest of his players. He assigns awards that all the players have voted on, from the best penalty kicks and goals of the season to who had the most embarrassing moments. It’s all in good fun, and when Mateo—our resident hothead—goes up for his most red cards award, he pretends to be mad, but we all know he secretly loves going off on the refs during a game.
Once Coach is finished singing our praises and handing out awards, the dean takes the stage again. “I’m sure many of you noticed the change in venue, and we were grateful enough to have a last-minute donor want to make sure this banquet was the best we have ever had.” He smiles wide, and I swear if it were possible, there would be money signs in his eyes. “Not only did he want to make tonight great for us, but he was also generous enough to donate more than enough money to the sports programs so that we are able to afford all new equipment and uniforms for next season.”
Cheers erupt all around us, booming from wall to wall in the room.
“I would like to say a special thank you to our generous donor. Please welcome him up here.” The dean claps and looks off to the side of the stage as a man climbs the stairs. “Mr. Howard Dugray.”
My veins turn to ice as I watch my father walk across the stage, his ever-present fake smile on his face as he approaches the dean. Howard Dugray is dressed like he always is, in a slim-fit suit. This one is all black, making him come off as more intimidating than he really is. I’m sure that is for my benefit. His dark suit matches the presence he looms over me, like a rainy cloud on an otherwise beautiful day.
And as that rainy cloud, he is like a torrential downpour, here to drown my happiness.
My father takes the mic the dean offers him, his phony smile growing as he is now in the spotlight. “Thank you, Dean Patel. I am honored to be able to contribute to such a wonderful school and help these young people in their coming season.”
My skin prickles with eyes on me, most likely my friends’ and Coach’s. Those are the only ones who know what having this man here means.
And Emree.
She grips my hand, which is balled in a fist on my thigh. Her simple touch cools down my overheated skin at the sight of the man who wanted to ruin my life. Ruin any chances with the love of my life. The mere sight of him makes my blood boil. Never has he shown up for a single school event since I started preschool. Not one award, not when I went to the finals in a spelling bee in sixth grade, and not a single soccer game since I started playing at seven years old.
He never cared, so why is he here now?
“As many of you can probably connect, I am the father of your very own Conrad Dugray,” he says into the mic as he waves a hand in my direction, looking like the picture of a proud father. A lie. “He has been a student at Braxton for the last three years. Me and his beautiful mother, who is here with me tonight, could not be happier with all he has achieved here, alongside his team. With next year being his last one before he joins me in the real world, I wanted to make it the best. Anything these players need will be readily available. You will have nothing but the best equipment and resources to bring home more championships.”
Grinding my molars together, I try not to let the anger inside me show on my face. I should have known it would not be as easy as I thought to walk away from the Dugray family. My father is going to use his power to control me once again. The only difference is I don’t need anything he has to offer. Even if he takes away my car or tries to revoke the payments to the school until I graduate, I have more than enough from my inheritance from my grandfather.
He can’t control me. Not anymore.
After saying a few parting words, my father exits the stage to sit at a table off to the side of the room filled with administrators and my mom. I’m wondering if he has been here the whole time or snuck in when the lights dimmed since I never noticed him before. Mom is dressed to the nines and playing the doting trophy wife as she laughs and smiles at the people surrounding them.
Light chatter fills the room as it becomes bright again. Looking away from my father’s table, I scan my own and see several sets of eyes on me.
“Dude, why didn’t you ever tell us your dad is, like, a billionaire or something?” one of the freshmen who joined our table asks with excitement in his tone.
Camden blows out an annoyed breath. “Jonny? Why don’t you go join that table over there? It’s filled with girls. Go get lucky, kid.”
Jonny looks to where he is pointing and sure enough, one of the other men’s soccer tables has a group of volleyball girls surrounding it. He’s out of his seat and over there in a matter of seconds.
Now that it is just our core group, once again, concerning eyes are back on me. “How’re you feeling, man?” Maddox asks. Gone is his joking and light tone, replaced with worry and a slight edge to how he asks me.
Out of all of my friends, Maddox understands the most about my family. He spent more time with his nanny than either of his parents because they would rather travel than be around their kids. It’s not that they don’t care for their children, it’s more that they enjoy the life of acting like they don’t have any.
Taking a calming breath, I release it slowly. “He’s back with his controlling ways, but he’s not going to get to me.”
