Page 20 of The Quarterback
“Besides, I’m not alone.” He kicked out toward Justin, his sandal-clad foot brushing over Justin’s boot. “Nick is here.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “I cannot believe my dad is playing video games with you.” He shook his head. “You straight guys, I swear. Sometimes…” He sighed, long and loud, but smiled.
“Yeah, yeah.” Colton scuffed his sandal on the curb. Nick had come over after practice most nights that week. He had hung out with the three of them, played video games with Colton and Wes, and talked to Justin until they all were yawning hard enough to crack their jaws.
Last night, though, Nick had gone out with Justin and Wes, taking them to a family dinner before they headed to the ranch for the summer. That had stung. Family dinner for three. But what had he expected?He’s not your dad. You don’t have a dad.How many times had he told himself that, growing up?Coach isn’t your dad. Don’t expect more than you get.
“My dad playing video games, you going to work in an actual office.” Justin shook his head. “What is the world coming to?”
“Don’t you guys have to leave?” Colton squinted at them, shading his eyes. “Can’t stand around insulting me all day.”
“But it’s fun.” Justin grinned.
“We do need to hit the road.” Wes checked his watch and then rubbed Justin’s back. “Ready, babe?”
“Howlong is the drive?”
Wes chuckled. “About eight hours.”
Justin looked pained for a moment. “All right. Let’s get going. Colton, don’t forget to find some decent clothes to wear.”
“I’m just going to raid your closet when you guys leave. Boom. Done.”
Justin snorted, laughing as he climbed into the passenger seat of Wes’s dilapidated truck. “I’d like to see you try and get even one shirt of mine over those shoulders. You’ll blow out the seams like the Hulk.”
Colton pretended to flex and roar, one-armed, as Wes fired up the engine. It coughed, stuttered, wheezed, and then finally caught. “You guys will make it all the way out there, right?”
Justin’s eyes slid sideways to Wes. “’Course,” Wes said. “Always have before.” He and Justin shared a long look.
“All right, smile.” Colton held up his phone and snapped a photo of Justin and Wes, bunched side by side in Wes’s truck, both of them beaming, cowboy hats pushed so close together Justin’s brim went askew. He sent the picture to their group chat—him, Nick, Justin, and Wes—and typedthe great cowboy adventure begins.
A moment later, Nick hearted the photo and then textedDrive safe! Text when you arrive, please. Wish I was there to say goodbye.
Justin grinned at his phone, showed Wes, and then sent three hearts back to his dad.
Colton watched it all play out on his screen.
Wes reached across Justin and held his hand out through the passenger window for Colton. They fist-bumped. Wes grinned. “Later, bro. Be good.”
“Yeah, you, too. Have fun, guys. Don’t break your necks. Send pics.”
They waved, and then they were off, clattering down the street and turning the corner, disappearing. Colton heard Wes’s engine knocking for three blocks, and then they must have made the turn onto the highway, because everything faded, and he was left on the sidewalk with only a bird chirping for company.
He looked up and down the block as the football flag flapped behind him on their porch. Students had moved out from the neighborhood in a two-day frenzy, and most of the houses were empty now. The streets, once filled with parked cars, were almost barren. He saw two girls walking at the far end of the block, talking as they sipped Frappuccinos.
He was alone.
He trudged up the porch steps. There were forgotten sneakers kicked to the side, and a few beer bottles had escaped the frantic spring cleaning, still clustered on the patio table in front of the frayed wicker chairs by the front door. Inside, the dark living room greeted him, still and silent and huge in a way it never was, not with twelve jocks filling up the place.
The guys had done a better job cleaning in the living room. There weren’t any beer bottles or textbooks or thrown-off shoes cluttering the floor. And usually, the kitchen island was full of drying dishes, but they’d all been put away after the last big dinner. The blenders were clean, the toasters unplugged. Most of the boxes of cereal and Pop-Tarts were gone.
It felt like a museum. All signs of life, gone.
He sat on the stairs as the silence of the house filled him up, dug into all the nooks and crannies he tried to stay away from, the corners of his mind he spent his life avoiding. He didn’t have to think about himself if he was throwing the football. He didn’t have to ponder his life’s trajectory if he was hanging with the guys, or challenging Wes toMadden, or laughing with Justin.
Jesus, a whole summer likethis?
His cell phone buzzed as the world seemed to expand, the dusty corner he was staring at growing larger like an oldLooney Tunescartoon pinwheel. He tore his phone out from his shorts and swiped the screen on. Had Wes’s truck already broken down? Was Justin already bored of the drive?
