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“There’s going to be a party at the coach’s house this weekend. The JV and varsity teams are both invited.”
I processed this information. “Interesting.” I thought about it. “And everyone will be there?”
“It’s not really optional,” Jeremy confirmed.
“What about parents, can they come too?”
“Nope. Parents are never invited to these things. Coach says it’s bonding time for us, but I think it’s just an excuse to check on us.”
This gave me pause. “How do you mean?”
Jeremy thought about it for a second. “I don’t know how to put this... I’ve only been to one of these parties but it’s uncomfortable. Coach comes up and talks to everyone alone to learn more about them. But he’s asking about our strength and what we are doing to improve our skills.”
“And what do you think he’s trying to learn exactly?”
“I dunno. Maybe he just wants to know if we are doing as he says. But it also gets kind of personal.”
I perked up at this. “Why personal?”
Jeremy thought about it for a second. “It’s like he wants to know more about you so that he can use it against you.” He took a breath. “But some of us make sure to be careful and not give him too much information.”
It sounded to me like Coach wanted to make sure he had total control over the boys. It’s easier to get them to comply if he can lord their darkest secrets over them.
Jeremy relayed the rest of the party details before ending the call. The party seemed a little strange, and I should know, I’d been to my fair share of football parties. There was nothing inherently wrong with them. Although normally the parents would be invited so that the coach could talk to them as well. It’s typically a family affair.
I’d needed to find a creative way to check out that party. Coach Ramstrom already disliked me and likely thought I was up to something, so my sudden presence would be suspicious to say the least. If only Coach Higgins hadn’t retired. We wouldn’t be in this mess if he were still around.
The doorbell interrupted my strategy session.
I paid for the pizzas, setting them on the counter and grabbing a few plates for us.
It seemed that Whitney and Savannah hadn’t heard the doorbell, so I went upstairs to fetch them.
I knocked on Savannah’s door first.
“Hey, pizza’s here,” I announced while slowly opening the door. A light snore came from the bed. I chuckled and backed out of the room as quietly as possible.
Marching to Whitney’s room I didn’t bother being polite and just opened the door.
“What the—” she screamed, and I caught a flash of a gray towel being wrapped around her body. Unfortunately, I didn’t see anything important. Bulging eyes looked into mine and I thought steam was going to start billowing out of Whitney’s ears. “Get the hell out of here!” she screamed.
“Pizza’s here.” I tipped my imaginary hat in her direction, keeping my hand on the knob and not making any moves to get out.
Quick as lightning, Whitney lunged for a nearby pillow and threw it my way.
Luckily, I still had the reflexes of an athlete. I closed the door just in time.
I dug into a piping hot slice of pizza as I heard the pounding of footsteps on the stairs. Whitney had never been light on her feet.
In front of me lay my notepad and piece of paper, which I used to brainstorm ways to get into the coach’s house without being too conspicuous.
“Where’s Savannah?” Whitney’s voice came from right behind me where I sat on one of the barstools. With only one other barstool beside me, Whitney weighed her options. After putting two slices of pizza on her plate, she headed to the family room to sit on the couch—basically, far away from me.
I followed her there.
“I’m perfectly fine eating by myself,” she said sweetly. But I knew better.
I made a dismissive motion with my hand.
