Page 3 of Chasing Sunsets

A paramedic said something about an IV, then jabbed his hand with a needle that must be the size of a goalpost. Agonizing pain streaked up his arm.

Suddenly, like magic, his pain disappeared. They could repeatedly stick painful needles in him for this kind of relief.

Darkness overtook him.

~

Hours later, Zack satin a hospital bed watching the door to his room close behind his mother and Cal as they left.

The room was pleasantly cool, although his mother complained it was as cold as a walk-in freezer, and smelled like alcohol. Required to stay overnight for observation, he’d more than likely be released in the morning according to the doctors. To everyone’s relief, the doctors promised he’d make a full recovery. The injury would heal like a bruise. They lectured him to give himself time to heal and not overdo it. His mother was understandably upset. He had no idea how he’d convince her to let him back on the field. Maybe Cal could help.

A quiet knock sounded before Dre walked through the door with Kasey behind him. “Your mom looks pissed.” Kasey pushed the door shut.

“She doesn’t want me to play football, never has.”

“My mother feels the same way. She insisted I participate in a team sport.” Dre shook his head. “She hates that I picked football.”

“My mom loves it and encouraged me and my brothers to play,” Kasey said. “When we were young, she’d play with us. She taught me how to tackle someone at the age of five.”

“I think she was teaching you self-defense,” Dre interjected. “You need it with four brothers.”

They laughed.

Damn, it hurt to laugh.

“Coach Banks is your stepdad, huh?” Dre asked.

“Yeah, he and my mom got married this summer. I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t want people to treat me differently.”

Kasey lightly squeezed the bag attached to Zack’s IV. “No one wants to be the coach’s kid. No matter your skill, if you start everyone will think it’s because you’re his kid.”

“I know I’m not starting. Stephens is too good.” Which honestly made being on the team easier. Not battling for a starting position was fine with Zack. He’d come from a tiny private school playing six-man to a huge school with over four thousand students and didn’t expect to start. He’d work hard and be ready in case Stephens got hurt.

The door flew open. Mike hastened inside with Cal following him. Mike’s rosy face flamed almost as red as his hair. “Zack, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I didn’t mean to tackle you so hard. Coach says you have a pulmonary contusion.”

“It means a bruise on my lung. I’ll be fine.”

“Save your strength for our opponents next time.” Kasey slapped Mike on the back.

The concerned expression on Mike’s face eased.

Cal studied them for a minute. “Do you boys know why I broke you into small groups?”

“Because you thought I wouldn’t have any friends,” Zack answered.

His stepdad shook his head.

“You enjoy manipulating people?” he teased, appreciating Cal wouldn’t get mad. The man never got angry. This afternoon was the first time he’d ever seen Cal upset.

“No, you smartass.” Cal smirked. “I started the tradition the first year I coached. I survived being a teenager. I understand how hard high school is and the feeling of not belonging or fitting in. My dad served in the Army, and we moved often. I seemed to always be making new friends. Even though some players knew each other prior to coming to Montgomery, I still want each boy to have friends they can trust.”

“What is going on here? Out, out, out,” a nurse fussed from the doorway. Her curly black hair stuck out in spikes all over her head, and she had to be in the same weight class as Mike. “Visitor hours are over. My patient must rest.”

On their way to the door, each guy clasped Zack’s hand the way Dre had earlier.

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