Page 269 of Vicious Saint
Archer: Totally a cap...especially since he was sent to Thornvale not to be heard about again.
Me: How the hell did you hear about this?
Archer: I was there this morning getting checked out…nurse birdies be chirpinnnnnnn.
Me: You went to Levi’s dad’s hospital for the damn flu?
Granted, every student who attends Riverside, and their families, are required to use Thornvale Medical Center. It’s literally a stipulation for admittance into the school. If that doesn’t scream corruption, I don’t know what does.
Archer: Wanted to make sure this shit ain’t the Rona, yo.
My eyeroll is a painful, necessary evil.
Me: You really are so dramatic Arch.
Archer: Better to be dramatic than quarantined.
Me: That’s not even a thing anymore…and as for The Pit tonight…we’re pulling an audible.
Archer: What do you mean?
Theory, along with the crowd, erupts in cheers, and when my head darts up from the phone, I see The Royals scored another touchdown. I join in on the cheering just before it dies down, butin perfect time to find Saint pointing at me and gesturing putting on a jacket. As if trying to say he was right,I’mthe reason his team has been winning every game since September.
I give him ayeah, yeahtilt of my head, then when he’s back to whatever formation involves a guy’s ass near his groin, I return to texting with Archer.
Me: LACE instead.
Enough time passes before Archer responds for Theory to call Vic with an update on the game, and talk up her quarterback big brother with me. Then start explaining how relieved she is that he finally got his groove back.
Saint? Get his groove back?In football?
“What happened?”
“Eh, he’s been a little distracted…” She eyes me pointedly, but in amusement.
Oh.
Well, that’s a relief for me too.
And I’m not talking about the groovereturning.
Yeah, I could tell Saint was hurting in his own way when we stopped talking, but enough to throw him off his favorite game? Well, I wouldn’t be a post lovesick girlfriend if knowing this didn’t make me a little giddy.
“How bad was he?” I ask, watching closely as he gets into position again.
She scoffs a chuckle. “Enough to have coach Balkan threaten to bench him during the championship game if he fucked up one more time.”
My relief goes flying into panic as fast as the football Saint chucks across the field.
“Holy shit.” My eyes widen. “Can he really do that?”
Theory shrugs. “I mean, I guess so. Saint is a pompous ass when he wants to be, but also takes his responsibilities super seriously. Especially when he knows people are depending on him.”
Thinking back to day one, I can recall dozens of times Saint pissed me off, the same number of times—if not more—where he’s shown up for me when he didn’t have to.
Like when our junior year biology teacher called me out for drawing in class, and when he threatened to send me to Beaumont, Saint threatened to sendhimto the unemployment line.
In front of the entire class.
