Page 39 of Saving Sparrow
“He might have mentioned something about the size of your head.” He laughed when I glared over at Miguel, who was too busy reading to notice.
I gripped the ball between my thighs so I could remove my T-shirt. I noticed Elliott staring, so I made my pecs dance. “Scared all this hotness is gonna distract you, pretty girl?”
“You wish.” Elliott set off for the middle of the yard. He looked like he belonged on a runway, not running drills and yards with me. I liked that about him, though. A dude who could rock a dressandcatch a ball.
We did this for fun, so I was careful not to generate too much power before launching the ball. Elliott jogged backward a bit, catching it mid-field before charging for the touchdown. Since we were playing a two-man game, it was also my job to stop him.
He zigzagged, feinting left and right, narrowly avoiding my grasp before making it past the makeshift goal line we’d created. Elliott slammed the ball to the grass, throwing his hands in the air and claiming victory. Miguel chuckled from his lounge chair.
“Again,” I demanded, my competitiveness kicking in. I made us wear our helmets this time, and I rigged the field with stepovers and tackle dummies.
“Again,” I said half an hour later, after he’d made it past me for the fifth time. We were sweaty, the waistband of my sweatpants soaked through, his T-shirt clinging to his chest.
I’d studied his tells, so this time when he feinted right twice, I was ready for his dart left. He’d almost made it past me, but I caught the end of his shirt. The cotton tore apart when he kept running.
We were parallel to the pool area, and he had to run past Miguel to get to the goal line. I knew the moment Miguel’s book crashed to the ground that he’d seen what I had. Elliott spun toward us, gripping the remnants of his shirt to him, but it was too late.
He dropped the ball, desperately trying to adjust his torn shirt as I advanced. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Miguel approaching too. “Your back… Who did that to you?” I demanded.
“How’d you get that?” Miguel’s question wasn’t accusatory like mine.
Elliott backed away, hyperventilating and mumbling one of his prayers. His gaze bounced from us to the woods leading to his house.
“Wait!” Miguel called out, but Elliott had already sprinted away from us. I chased after him.
The patio doors were wide open when I broke through the trees into Elliott’s backyard, but he was nowhere in sight. I turned at the sound of Miguel’s footfalls, waiting for him to appear.
“Should we go inside?” he asked, panting.
“Fuck yeah.” I took off again. We bounded up the stone staircase, bursting through the open glass doors like we fucking owned the place. The house was quiet and cold, everything sterile and white, no family portraits hanging anywhere.
If it was anything like our house, the bedrooms were all upstairs, so we went in search of the staircase.
Miguel hurried to keep up with my long strides as we checked room after room looking for Elliott. We found him in the bedroom at the end of the hall. It matched the rest of the house, seeming so unlike him.
He stepped out of the closet as he pulled a new T-shirt over his head. He froze when he saw us.
“Hey,” Miguel said.
“Get out.” His bottom lip quivered.
“We just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Miguel said.
“I’m fine,” he bit out, clearly not.
“How’d you get that scar on your back?” I tried not to sound angry because I wasn’t angry with him. I was probably overreacting anyway. Maybe he’d been in a car crash or some other kind of accident. Maybe no one had intentionally hurt him. Then I remembered the look on his face when he realized we’d seen the scar, and I knew that wasn’t true. Someonehadhurt him, and it looked like they’d tried to carve out his spinal cord.
“I don’t know.”
“Did Amelia—”
“No.” He shut me down right away.
“Then who?” Miguel asked.
“I don’t remember!” Elliott grabbed the sides of his head like it hurt.
“Hey,” Miguel said softly, taking a step toward him. Elliott took two steps away. “What did your parents say about it? How did they say you got it?”
