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Josie turned to her side and pulled down the top of her shirt to reveal her shoulder. “When you shoved me into the locker room door in the gymnasium, I hit a piece of broken wood from the frame.”
Tears began to build in the corners of my eyes. Josie bit her bottom lip and lifted the hem of her t-shirt. “I—this isn’t helping, Maverick,” she whispered, her large hazel eyes pleading.
I sank back against her bed, covering my face and trying to steady my breathing. I’d always hated a part of myself, but it felt suffocating now. Josie ran her palm against the scruff of my jaw. “Maverick. Stop. Nothing can change that, but you can change the future. Prove to me you aren’t the same guy.”
I inhaled deeply. “I will. If it takes me forever—I’ll do it.”
She smiled sweetly. How could she look at me and see anything other than a monster? I’d never understand it, but I would do what I said and prove it.
***
Monday morning rolled around and the school bus picked Frankie up earlier than practice. He tried to hide his nerves with laughter, but I knew by the distant look in his eyes that it was an act.
He was scared to go to a new school, and I hated it for him, but I knew getting away from our mother proved best for him. It was all I could think about during practice. How he had to wear his old shoes because I hadn’t been paid yet, and eat in the cafeteria because all we had was sandwich meat.
I’d already made a plan to get him some clothes when I was paid—
“Booker!”
King slammed into my side, sending me onto my back. Stars danced along my vision as I gained my sight and tried to calm my anger. It didn’t work. I snatched my helmet from my head and came toe-to-toe with him.
The smirk on his face pissed me off.
Coach walked up, grabbed King’s helmet, and brought it to his face. “We don’t hurt our teammates, King. What the hell was that?”
King shrugged. “I didn’t mean to Coach—,”
“Thirty laps. Now!”
King didn’t even seem upset as he took off across the field. I watched him turn the first curve of the track. “And you, Booker, where is your head this morning?”
I glanced at his weathered face underneath his purple baseball hat. “I’m fine—,”
“You’ve been somewhere else all morning. Is something going on?”
Oh, boy … was it.
I didn’t want to tell him. He may think I couldn’t handle it all and bench me. “I’m fine Coach. Just an off morning.”
He studied my face. “Get over it, whatever it is, we have our first away game this Friday and I want you ready, and whatever you and King have going on, can it? It’s not worth your scholarships.”
I swallowed. Josie was worth my scholarship, but I didn’t say that. He’d think I was insane jeopardizing everything I worked so hard for over a girl. Coach lived football.
The day flew by until it was time to go to work. I’d been nervous to show up, not knowing what to wear, but Artie didn’t seem to mind my jeans and LSU t-shirt.
He wobbled over to a barstool and propped up his cane. “You know how to run a cash register?”
“I’ve used one once or twice.”
Artie showed me how to work it, which didn’t seem too hard. I swept the floors, straightened up, and found myself rummaging through the old records, and his memorabilia from his youth.
“You lived here all your life Artie?” I asked after several minutes of silence.
“Pretty much. What about you? You said you grew up in Zachary and I know you’re here for college and football, but tell me about your son. You’re quiet.”
Yikes.I ran my index finger against an old radio and leaned against it softly. “Not much to tell, Artie.”
He chuckled, shining his glasses with his old flannel shirt. “I don’t believe that for a second. Is your family excited you’re in school? How about siblings?”
