Page 115 of Forever We Fall

“This breaks my heart, Hota. You know that, right?”

Coach crouches low, putting his hazel eyes level with mine. His too short shorts hike up his narrow thighs. I jerk my gaze to the rafters.

“I know, Coach.” I swallow past the dryness in my throat. “Thank you for fighting for me.”

“The school has a no-fighting policy.” He straightens, bracing his hands on his hips. Luckily, he shifts to look at the empty gymnasium, so his crotch is no longer directly in my face.

“Yes, sir.” My elbows are braced on my knees. I hang my head between my shoulders. I’m both dejected and relieved after the last month of back and forth among the school board, the headmaster, and Coach.

“I told them that wasn’t any kind of fight I’d ever seen. It was an attack. You did what you had to do to save your friend. You didn’t do what you could have done. I told them, if you wanted him crippled, it wouldn’t have taken you much to achieve it.”

He claps his hands together. The noise echoes in the open, wood-lined space. “At least you don’t have to see his scarred face around here anymore.”

More than anything, I’m ready to nevertalkabout Phillip-piece-of-shit-Phillips or the attack ever again.

Who the fuck names their kid Phillip Phillips anyway? Narcissistic assholes. That’s who.

Neither Arlo nor I would have to look at his scarred face ever again. A few days after the incident, his asshole parents pulled him from Willoughby Ridge. Still, the repercussions from that night rained down.

“I hate it.” Coach grabs my left shoulder and gives me a shake. “I wanted to let you know before our first team meeting tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Coach.” I swallow my disappointment. “Crib will make a great captain.”

“No, he won’t.” The older man’s boisterous laughter fills the gymnasium. “He’s as wet behind the ears as a river rat.” He waves the laugh away. “You were a captain last year without the title. I hate that I can’t let you have it this year. You’ve earned it.”

I shrug, trying to let the praise sink in. It’s the only place I’m going to get it from for the foreseeable future. Not that my dad was ever one for praise. It’s sure never to come now.

Still, his words slide off and land in puddles on the floor.

“At least I’m still on the team.” I offer a half smile.

“No other hiccups,” he warns with an extended pointer finger.

“No, sir.” I agree with a nod.

“Once the season gets underway, this will all be behind us.” He rubs his hands together. “We have a championship to win. Right?” His voice holds too much pep for me.

I force a smile. He earned it after going to bat for me against the school board. I know it’s not for me as much as it’s for himand the team's chances of winning regionals. It’s more than my father would do for me.

“Yes, we do.” I stand, finished with this conversation, even if he wasn’t.

“Team meeting tomorrow,” he reminds me with a shaking index finger.

“Absolutely, sir,” I mumble and rush out the door.

I would head for my room. A room that’s been oppressive lately.

Gone are the days of me and Arlo working out together. We might grab breakfast together once during the week, but no words are spoken.

We still sleep in the same bed every night—zero touching, per usual—but only after he turns off his light.

I can’t tell him about my father disowning me. He’ll take it onto his shoulders. It’s a weight I won’t let him bear. He has enough already. Too much.

Changing my mind, I head for the weight room.

It’s my haven. A place where no one talks to me, and I don’t care. I push inside and let the clang of weights settle my nerves and frazzled mind.

Since the incident, people look at me and whisper. They stare. They scurry away.

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