Page 207 of The Surprise Play
“She’s worried about her brother,” Dad tries to soothe her. “And she’s ahead of schedule on her assignments and has already arranged with a friend to record any classesshe’s missing. She’ll catch up on the work. You know Blake.”
Mom rolls her eyes but has to concede.
Blake is smart and will no doubt breeze through this year with minimal effort, although knowing her, she’ll put in maximum effort.
That girl will end up studying on the plane, hang out with me, and then spend her nights catching up on the classes she missed.
We really should be backing Mom up on this one and telling Blake to stay put.
But selfishly, I want her here.
We’ve always had each other’s backs, and she’ll support me when I tell my parents about Satch.
Shit, I should probably do it now.
Or maybe I can wait until Blake arrives.
Fuck! I want Satch to come back.
Dad lets out a heavy sigh, his expression glum when I glance at him. “I’m so sorry this has happened, Wily.”
His genuine sadness makes my chest hurt in new ways. Shit. I feel like I’m letting him down.
“But everything’s going to be okay.” Perching on the side of my bed, he’s careful to avoid jostling my body and softly rests his hand over mine. “Your career isn’t over.” He starts to smile—just a soft, closed-mouth look that’s no doubt supposed to comfort me, but my stomach is still writhing. “When I first heard, I was absolutely devastated, but Austin reassured me on our drive up here that there are plenty of great options to get you back on track.”
“Can’t we just get through the surgery before talking about all this?” Mom complains. “Look at his face, David. He needs to rest.”
“I’m trying to give him hope,” Dad bites back. “And if we’re going to pursue this private training camp idea, then we need to get on it now.” He looks at me. “Austin said he can easily get you into one.”
I nod, silently asking for more information.
“You’ll do your rehab at the camp, be surrounded by expert care, and they’ll prep you for the season ahead, make sure you’re on track to be playing as soon as humanly possible. If the draft knows you’re going to these efforts, it’ll no doubt put you higher up on the list, and you might still get picked by a really great team and be offered a decent contract.”
Hope starts to stir just a little, but my stomach is still twisted into a tight knot. I don’t understand why. I should be jumping all over this thing. I think my brain just heard that pop, felt that searing pain in my knee, and immediately thought my career was over. Everyone keeps telling me it’s not, but it fritzed out and went to worst-case scenario.
I try to blink past my pounding headache and focus on what Dad’s saying.
It’s not over.
There’s still hope.
So what the fuck is my problem?
“It would mean dropping out of school now. There’d be no graduation, but you hate school anyway, right?”
My eyes dart to Dad’s face as he keeps running through this epic solution… and now my chest is caving in.
Leave immediately?
Drop out?
A few months ago, I probably would have accepted that idea without a problem.
But now…
Satch.
Her face floats through my head, the look of sad acceptance she’ll no doubt give me when I tell her the news. She’ll be disappointed that I won’t be graduating. I know it won’t sit right with her.
