Page 130 of Holding On

I used to confide in him. I'd tell him how I was struggling with my classes, having trouble keeping up. He'd tell me to hang in there, that everything would work out. And it did, but only because the whole system was rigged to make me a star, both on and off the field.

It's all making sense now. My grades are better than anyone else's on the team because they're creating an image. Coach. My dad. The college president. They want to present me as being the model quarterback. The all-American boy who stays out of trouble, gets good grades, and kills it on the football field. The only thing missing is a cheerleader girlfriend at my side. And of course, a leg that isn't broken. But that's just a kink in the road. My leg's almost healed and then I'll be back on the path that's been chosen for me.

"Ethan?" Jackson says. "You awake over there? You didn't answer my question."

"Sorry. Guess I'm tired."

"So what changed your mind? Why are you back at the gym?"

"I realized I can't keep sitting around doing nothing."

"Did your dad yell at you? Did he force you back into training?"

"It has nothing to do with my dad. Football is my life and if I don't get back to it, I might lose it."

"Finally." Jackson leans back in his chair. "About time you finally came to your senses." He swigs his beer. "For awhile there I thought you were going to quit football. If you had, I would've had your damn head examined."

He doesn't understand. He never would. Which is why I never told him that I was even considering not pursuing pro ball. When you have my kind of talent, my level of skill and training, you aren't allowed to turn down the opportunities that are given to you. I know this, and yet I was about to give it all up. Part of me still wants to, because I don't deserve it. The fame. The glory. The money. I don't deserve any of it.

I let my friends die. I could've taken Jason's keys. I could've insisted we stay at the party. At the very least, I could've belted Kasey into her seat. But I didn't. And now they're all dead and I'm still on the path to be a professional athlete.

It's not fair. It isn't right. But what do I do? I have my whole life ahead of me and football is the only thing I know. Apparently I'm too stupid to pass my classes so sports are it for me, which is why I'll be showing up to practice. Whether I like it or not, it's full force ahead. I have no other options. My future is football and I have to accept that.

Jackson points to my leg. "Any update?"

"Not since last time we talked."

"It's been almost three months. It's gotta be getting better."

"It is. The doc said the cast could be off by mid-August. Maybe sooner. For now, I'll keep training my upper body and get back to throwing the ball."

"You haven't been throwing the ball?" he asks, sounding shocked.

"Of course I have," I lie. "Just not enough. And I haven't been filming it to see my mistakes."

"Coach got you on a program?"

"Yeah. He gave it to me last week."

"Why don't we hit the gym tomorrow? I was going to wait until Sunday, but tomorrow works better. That way I can get wasted tomorrow night and rest on Sunday."

"I'm not having a party," I tell him.

He grins. "C'mon. Just a few people."

"You always say that, and a few people ends up being hundreds."

"Not many people are back in town yet. That automatically limits it to no more than ten."

"Ten is too many."

"Ten is nothing. And your girlfriend can come over. You can show her off to our friends."

"What friends are we talking about here?"

"Derek's back tomorrow. He's got a girl and she's got a couple friends that want to come over."

"You already told him this is happening?"

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