“Just don’t get kicked out. You can slash your stepdad’s tires after the game,” he says.
“He’s not my stepdad. He’s my mom’s emotional crutch and an abusive son-of-a-bitch,” I respond.
“Whatever. Don’t deal with him on the field,” Cameron says, popping his mouthguard in and running out for the first series of downs.
Left on my own on the sidelines with nothing but the defensive squad—including Raskin—I push my intense focus onto the team, sticking close to our coaches and shouting out things I spot as they unfold on the field. After a twenty-yard pass completion to Cameron, I get called in and get to put my aggression to work by blocking. It takes exactly thirteen seconds for me to get my first holding call. Seven seconds later, I get another.
Cameron grabs the front of my helmet when I come back to the huddle, twisting my head so we’re mask to mask.
“I told you to let it fucking go!”
“I am letting it go! Not my fault these refs suck!” I shout back.
He lets go of my helmet and pushes the center of my chest as he walks to the other side of the huddle. I stare him down the entire time James runs through the sequence, and by the time we all clap and shout ‘break,’ I’m about as wound as a horny bull staring at a sea of red.
“Offsides!” The flag lands at my feet.
“Oh, fuck that!” I gripe.
“That’s it! You’re outta here!” The head ref’s hand flashes in front of my face, and I’m clear-headed enough to get that he’s ejecting me.
I begin to walk to the sidelines but turn back because this guy’s been on my ass since the minute I started the game. I get two steps into my tirade walk before Cameron body hugs me and literally pushes my ass back to the sidelines.
“Cool off! You need this, and you’re gonna fuck it up. Be pissed. Just be pissed on your own time, yeah?” He levels my shoulders with his heavy palms and pushes my ass down on the bench, my knees buckling because it’s so unexpected. Also, I’m not used to Cameron being the grown-up in our friendship.
I take in a deep breath and rip my helmet strap off and spit out my mouth guard.
“Yeah, all right.” I shove my helmet up on my forehead so I can get some air and catch the glare from Coach. He’s pissed.
I pull my helmet off completely and set it on the bench next to me, then lean forward and rub my forehead. I stare into the dying grass at my feet, letting my focus drill down to the ants making their way toward the Gatorade table. I roll my head to the side and see my mom sitting on the edge of the first bleacher, Neil’s fucking arm slung over her to show she’s his property, and my stomach boils when he leans into her and talks in her ear—about me, no doubt.
Stretching to the side, I hold the back of the bench and scan the rest of the bleachers in search of Lily. Shame clings to my chest a bit. I didn’t want her to see me like this. Even so, when I finally pick her out from the crowd, all it takes is her holding up a palm to calm my rage. I hold my hand up in return and indulge in staring at her for a few seconds.
“That’s pretty wild, bro.” Serenity is abruptly cut short by Raskin’s voice, followed by the weight of his body flopping down on the bench next to me.
Don’t start shit with him too, Theo. Not here. Not now.
Instead of responding, I simply grunt and pull my helmet into my hands. If he keeps talking, I’ll put it on and muffle his damn voice. It takes him about a second to elbow me. He wants a response.He wants attention.
I swivel my head to look at him, but I can tell by the tightness in my jaw that I’m doing a shit job of feigning interest in anything he could possibly say.
“I mean Lily . . . and you. That’s wild. Your sister be okay with you hooking up, you think? I mean . . . yeahhhh, probably. They were friends, right?” He leans back and stretches out his legs, letting his gaze drift out to the field. He’s barely on the defensive squad. He’ll be lucky to see minutes at all this season.Asshole.
My teeth grind and the noise fills my ears. Raskin has an enormous zit on the side of his left cheek. It’s disgusting, and it’s all I see.
“You ever find out why Anika picked my car? I mean, she could have grabbed anyone’s keys. She could have taken your car. I mean, she tried to hook up with me a few times, but we never really—”
And that’s enough. Before another word leaves his mouth and enters my ear, I swing my arms to the side and bash Raskin’s face with my helmet. The bridge of his nose splits, and I might have knocked out a tooth.
“What the fu—” He stands, but I match his speed and my hands clutch his pads as I charge into him, knocking him off balance and into the Gatorade table.
The crowd’s reaction is white noise in my ears while I work to stay on top of his big, clumsy body, straddling his hips while my arms fly at him, punching wherever I can. I land a few shots to his chin before he shoves me from him, and we both roll through the pile of orange ice quickly dissolving into the grass.
“Boys! Knock it off!” Coach’s voice cuts through the chaos as he wraps an arm around my midsection and pulls me back. James and Cameron take Raskin by the arms and pull him back several steps. He spits blood on the ground and rolls his shoulders as he backs off even more. His pads are sticking out, and his jersey is torn. I wish I’d done more damage.
I’m seething, and spit and hot air flies from my mouth as I huff through gritted teeth. The refs must have called time on the game because a quick glance to my left reveals the entire Augustine team on their sideline while most of our guys are huddled several feet away from me. Only Coach, Cameron and James are near me now.
“You need to cool your head and get your ass in the locker room,” Coach says, jerking me around to face him by the collar of my jersey. I feel his knuckles against my throat as I swallow hard, and he loosens his grip on my jersey but doesn’t let go completely. Sweat drips into my right eye and I blink it away. Everything around me feels both bright and blurry.