“Really,” Jake said. “No offense, Coach. I still love the game. But this doesn’t feel like a team anymore.”
Leaning forward, the older man pinned his look on me. “Bubba?”
“Jake’s not wrong,” I admitted. Even with all the time we put in, it had been more out of habit than out of real love for the game. At least this year anyway. I thought our best year had been ninth grade. It was all still fresh, Frankie was on the spirit team, and it was another way we spent time together. Now it just sucked time away from where I’d rather be.
“You realize that scouts have seen you both play.”
Jake said nothing, but I shook my head. “Not that I’ve heard.”
“That’s going to change over the next couple of weeks. They’ve been watching you, even with the issues and the news stories.”
“Not planning to go pro, Coach,” Jake admitted. That wasn’t a surprise. “I’ve got my eye on an engineering degree. I’m here because we made a commitment. But I don’t have to stay.”
Exhaling, Coach settled back in his chair and studied us. I got the impression there was a lot of things he wanted to say and probably couldn’t. “Three games left this season, unless we sweep them all and Torrent High loses their next two of three. If they do, we make the division playoffs.”
It wasn’t going to happen. The team was too scattered. But I heard what Coach asked, even if he wasn’t asking directly. I glanced at Jake and read the same understanding there. He nodded to my unasked question.
“Coach, do you want us in the game?” It was my turn to ask.
“Yes,” he said. “But only if you’re going to give it your all. That means working with Jackson and Shawn, whether you like them or not.”
It wasn’t just about liking them.
“We’ll do our parts,” Jake said. “We’ve always played our best.”
But that wasn’t a promise to work with them, and I couldn’t make it either. Not as long as they held onto that attitude about Mitch. For all we knew, they were in on it, too.
“Play tomorrow night,” Coach said slowly. “If you want to walk away after that, I’ll make sure you get credit for the full season.”
It was better than nothing, I supposed. He wasn’t offering to get rid of the other guys, but then Coach didn’t have a reason to get rid of them at the moment.
“Sounds like a plan,” Jake said. We all shook on it, then Jake and I headed out. Neither of us said anything. The parking lot was nearly empty, which gave me a good view of my bike lying on its side.
Fuck.
Jake saw it a beat after me, because he let out a low whistle. Still silent, we stalked across the empty lot. The side mirrors were smashed. The front tire kickstand had broken right off, and one of the brake grips dangled—it had been cut.
We got it upright, but it didn’t matter. I couldn’t ride it in this condition. The front and back tires were both flat.
“Fuckers.”
“Yeah, we don’t know it’s them,” I said, not that I had any doubts. Who else had this kind of beef with me? Mitch, maybe, but as far as I knew, he hadn’t been back on campus since the cops followed him to the hospital. He’d also been arrested. Beyond that, details had been sketchy.
“We don’t know, but do you think it was anyone else?” Jake countered.
I shook my head. There had to be a grand’s worth of damage done. Fuck.
“Hang tight, I’ll go get my car, and we can put the backseat down and load this inside.”
“It’s not gonna fit.”
“We’ll make it work. We can at least get it over to the bike shop.” We set the bike down again, and then Jake jogged for his car. I pulled out my phone and looked up the number for the bike repair shop. They weren’t going to be open much longer.
One phone call assured me a mechanic would be there to check my bike in, but they couldn’t give me any promises until they got a good look at it.
Jake was back in no time. “Take pictures of all of it.”
“Yeah.” I’d need it for insurance.