Page 98 of The Keeper
“Did I say that out loud?”
He laughs.
“Yeah, now what’s wrong?”
“I don’t have a reason why I sat next to you,” I whisper to him.
Mack shrugs.
“Don’t worry,” he says, his volume a bit higher. “I used to get nerves before tournaments too. Glad to hear they passed so quickly.” He pats my shoulder and turns to walk out of the bus.
I shuffle after him, feeling slightly relieved that I don’t have to come up with a fake excuse, while simultaneously pissed that he made me sound like a nervous Nellie in front of the rest of the team.
“So glad to hear I’m not the only one who feels like they’re gonna upchuck before a game,” Piper says as she bounces down the steps. “I thought I was the only freak on the team.” She gives me a cheesy grin before scooting past me to grab her duffle from underneath the bus.
I grab my duffle as well, following the team through the parking lot and towards the stadium tunnels. I am dressed and ready to go by the time I glance at my phone again. Two missed calls and a text from Jeremy.
Jeremy: He’s coming to the game. I’m on my way.
My stomach drops. Why would he come to another game? There is legitimately no reason for him to come. I can feel my blood pumping faster as it throbs through my body, anger and frustration rippling across the surface of my skin.
Me: Don’t come. I’ll be fine.
I almost send it.
I type it completely, and then stare at it as my teammates mill around me. Laughing and joking and excited about the game.
I stare at a text I want to send to my brother, in an attempt to save him the frustration while everyone around me enjoys themselves.
But then I delete it.
It’s not my job to protect Jeremy. By doing that, I’ve created a barrier between us that is now one of the causes of a rift that I can’t stand. If he wants to come and be supportive, so I can be like every other normal person on this team, I should let him.
But I also have to tell my coach that there is a potential distraction.
I hop up from the bench next to the lockers and go to the hallway just outside the locker room, where Mack and Coach J are talking quietly. They stop immediately when I approach.
“What’s up, Rachel?” Coach J asks.
It throws me for just a moment, since my focus had been on sharing with Mack. But Coach J’s question reminds me that I’m here to tell my coaches, plural, about a distraction. I’m not here to cry to my future boyfriend about my asshole dad.
“The game against USD a few weeks ago, there was a heckler in the crowd that caused some problems.”
I provide the information as a statement, not a question, because I know they remember. Everyone remembers Rachel Jameson’s dad calling her a dyke loud and clear.
“He’s coming today, and his presence will cause problems for me. You need to put Erin in as starter. I’d like permission to not go on the field.”
When all I hear is silence, I glance up at both of them, my eyes previously trained on the ground.
Coach J’s eyes are furrowed in confusion, while Mack just watches me with a neutral expression.
“I’ve already informed Coach J that your father will be at the game,” Mack says, “and we both agreed that it would be best to keep you on the field.”
Now my head cocks to the side with my own confusion.
“That makes no sense. Last time I could barely pay attention when he was here. I almost lost us the game. This game is way more important.”
“I’ll let you two get on the same page,” Coach J says, and walks back into the locker room.
