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“Morning? It’s practically noon! Don’t you have a practice to go to? If I were your coach—”
I shake my mouse, glancing toward the screen as I tune out his rant. It’s not even seven thirty, hardly noon, except to Benedict Wentworth. Seriously, that man would find something to complain about if he called me at midnight and found me asleep.
“Did you need something?” I interrupt him mid-sentence. “If not, I have to go. I have classes to get to.”
“Of course, I needed something! What do you think? That I have time to waste?”
Of course, he did.Because what other reason could a father have to call his son if he didn’t need something?
“Did you apply for your MCATs?”
“I—” I look at the top of my screen, noticing the date.Fuck, I almost forgot. “No, Dad, I didn’t apply yet. The site isn’t opening until later anyway.”
“Which date will you take?”
I try to hold back my groan. “I already told you, Dad. I’m going to take one of the March dates. It makes the most sense since…”
“What makes the most sense is for you to take the first available date! Knowing you, you’ll probably fail anyway because that’s what you do. You fail, Prescott. You fail people around you. You fail at football.You fail.This way, at least, you’ll have the time to retake the test if you want to be able to apply to med schools come spring. Apply for the first available date.”
Knowing you, you’ll probably fail anyway.
He’s right.
I fail people.
I failed Gabriel.
I failed Jade.
And I’ll fail my teammates if I’m not able to play.
“Just listen to me—”
“Fine, I’ll take the first damn date. Happy?” I yell, unable to continue listening to him go on and on about how big of a disappointment I am. I know that damn well without having to hear him say it on repeat. “Did you need anything else?”
There’s a beat of silence. For a moment, I think he might have hung up on me, but then he says: “Your mother wants to know if you’re coming home for Thanksgiving.”
Home? The word was laughable. There was no more home. There hasn’t been one for a long ass time. Besides, it’s been weeks since we last talked. If him coming to my game drunk and punching me in the face can even be considered talking. I see how much they missed me, considering they waited to reach out.
“Coach asked us to stay around because we have an important game.”
“Well, you better be home for Christmas. You know how upset she gets.”
She’ll get upset one way or the other. Mom can barely stand to look at my face these days, not after everything that had happened with Gabriel.
“I’m not making any promises.”
“Prescott,” there’s an edge to my father’s voice. Maybe I should care, but I don’t have it in me to do so. Not any longer.
“Championship is on the line, Dad. And the Ravens have a decent chance to play in the finals. There’s no sense in flying all the way to Michigan if I’ll have to be back in a few days. And now I have MCATs to study for on top of everything else. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a class to get to.”
Not waiting for an answer, I hang up. Turning around in my chair, I throw the phone on the bed, rubbing my hands over my face as the frustration simmers inside me like it always does.
The need to go to the gym and work this anger out of me is tempting, but I didn’t lie. I do have a class I can’t skip if I want to remain eligible to play.
Letting my hands drop down, I push to my feet.
Class first. The gym will have to wait.
