Page 44 of Whistle

I said nothing.

“Now,” Coach growled.

“Yeah, I’m from Pembrook, and the girl Rush was accused of killing was my twin sister,” I announced.

Coach gave me a hard look. “I meant your name and stroke.”

“No one gives a shit about that,” I spat.

“Language,” Coach warned.

I rolled my eyes but then glanced at Rush. He was staring at me, an indiscernible look in his eyes. He’d always been intense, ever since we were kids. But it was different now. More intimidating.

“And yeah, I thought Rush did it. The cops said he did. The witnesses from that night said he did. There was evidence…” My voice trailed away as I remembered the day my entire life crumbled.

“He was your best friend,” an accented voice accused.

My eyes fired to Lars, my Swedish replacement, and I felt my lip curl. “My sister was dead.”

“You trashed his whole life, bro,” curly-haired Wes put in.

What about my life? No one ever thought about that. About what I’d lost. How I felt.

It was always about Rush.

Of course it would be. This was his turf. His family. I didn’t belong.

Rush stepped forward, and all attention shifted to him. “I appreciate the loyalty, bros. And the fact you believe me and have my back.”

The knife twisting in my heart went a little deeper. He would never forgive me.

“But that’s the past. Old news. Me and Bodhi buried the hatchet.” He straight lied. “Everything between us is copasetic. He needs a place to start over, and well, Coach thought it would be good for him here.”

Coach thought. Not him.

“I know we all, ah, got off on the wrong foot.” Rush went on, and Max made a rude sound.

“But Bodhi is Elite now.” Rush finished.

I couldn’t help but notice the way his blond-haired girlfriend, our assistant coach, beamed at him like he was some sort of hero.

Lame.

“And Elite takes care of Elite,” Ryan said, stepping up beside Rush.

“God. I’m turning into you, Walsh,” Rush muttered, and Ryan laughed, clapping him on the back. “Welcome to the dark side.”

“We have cookies,” Jamie put in.

“Pretty sure you ate them all,” Kruger muttered.

My stomach rolled with nausea.

“So you’re cool with this?” someone on the bleachers called to Ryan.

Coach made a sound. “I’m the coach around here. Not Walsh. And I said Lawson deserves a chance. Understood?”

A general assent went around the room. The vise around my chest loosened just a little.

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