Page 38 of The Star

“Your bullies?”

He flicks his head a little. “Hayden Monroe, Carson Raines, and Levi Valentino.”

I reel back a little, feeling angry at the thought that those dickheads would bully anyone, but it doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. They’re horrible people, popular asses that get whatever they want.

The kid next to me scoffs a little. “Hayden and Carson both have parents on the board. They’re untouchable.”

I perk an eyebrow. “And Levi?”

“Headmistress Rothchild would never kick out our resident charity case.” He rolls his eyes.

Charity case?What is that supposed to mean?

He turns away from me to pay attention to the assembly again, leaving me with more questions than I started with. I lean closer to him, keeping my voice low. “They’ll get what’s coming to them one day.”

He looks at me from the corner of his eye. “Yeah. They will.”

nineteen

CARSON

Friday is my favorite day of the week, like most high school students. But for me, it’s not because it’s the start of the weekend; an excuse to go to a party, get wasted, and get a handy in someone’s hot tub. No, for me it’s because of football.

It’s another day to crush another school. Another day of adoring fans screaming out my name in the bleachers, wearing my jersey number painted on their cheeks, and cheering me on with handmade signs.

On Friday, I am God.

I’m the leader of our team, guiding them toward another win, another notch in the metaphorical belt that leads us to championships.

We’re a good team, the best in the state, and that’s because of me.

Can I take all the credit? No, but without me, they would be nothing. I’m the playmaker, the leader, the QB, the fucking captain. I built our defense and offense from scratch, handpicking this year’s line-up with Coach Anderson, and teaching each and every one of them how to work with me to become the best.

This Friday is no different.

We’re going head-to-head with Hale High, who has the weakest defensive line I’ve seen all year. Getting through them for the last three quarters has been like sliding in between statues glued to the fucking grass. They’re slow, and none of them are in sync.

Making my job just that much easier.

My team? We’re completely in sync. They clear the field for me to get the touchdown, exactly how we’ve practiced.

That’s why we’re 57-0 going into the fourth quarter.

Coach doesn’t even bother calling a huddle, just points at me and lets me pick the play. It’s been working so far, so why fuck with perfection?

“Let’s go, Carson!” Cassidy screams from the sidelines, where she’s lined up with cheerleaders on either side of her, jumping around with her blue and white pom-poms shaking in the air. I give her a wink through my helmet, even if she can’t see my eyes.

She’s a trooper. If it was anyone else that got their shit rocked a few days ago, they would have sat out the game to ice their swollen face. But not Cass. She’s dedicated, just like me.

We run out the rest of the game, scoring another two times and ending the night with a complete victory against Hale.

Once the whole team has surrounded me, jumping in the air yelling like apes at our win, the cheer squad and coaches pour onto the field as well. I rip my helmet off, a big ass grin pulling my cheeks, when Coach Anderson claps me on the back. “Nice work out there, son.”

I give him a nod. “Thanks, coach.”

Cassidy’s body collides with mine, her pom-poms smacking me in the face. She screams loud, celebrating another victory for Luxington High.

My helmet drops to my feet as my arms move to her waist, holding her up when she wraps her legs around me, clinging on like a spider monkey.

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