Page 19 of Wrong Pucking Player

“No worries,” I assure her. “I had exams, anyway. No time to travel. I got to go, so I’ll be hanging up first.”

“Alright, Alex,” she says in haste—with a bit of relief. “Don’t forget to let me know about the internship and if you receive grants, yes?”

“Mhmm.” I hang up the phone before she can say anything else.

“What a bitch,” I mutter to myself as I stare at the screen with a venomous stare.

Once again, my Auntie reminds me of why I may be better off as an orphan and cutting her off as well. There’s only so much emotional and financial manipulation and abuse one can take before it becomes far too much.

I feel like I shouldn’t be in this situation.

That I should be like Mikayla, growing up in a home filled with love and supported by so many.

My reality is I never got that.

And moments like these really rub alcohol in a wound that has never fully healed.

“If you keep staring at your phone like that, it’ll think you have a vendetta against it.”

I blink and look up to see Coach Johnson at the doorway.

“Oh, hi, Coach Johnson,” I greet and loosen the death grip I have on the poor iPhone 12. We’re on iPhone 17 now, which means my phone may stop working in a few weeks, but I’m using it to the best of my ability.

“Can you go check and see if the food is here?” he asks while pointing back to the kitchen. “Mikayla went to answer the door, but she’s taking a while.”

“Oh! I can totally do that,” I assure him like some sort of mission. “I bet you it’s that douche, and he has no choice but to work for Uber now because Daddy dearest doesn’t fund his petty ass anymore.”

Coach Johnson needs at least five seconds to process what I’m saying before he answers.

“You’re referring to Jayce, aren’t you?”

“Sadly,” I confess and head toward him. “I’m waiting to hear that he’s anywhere else in the world and not Strattonville.”

“Still hate his guts?”

“And you don’t?”

When he doesn’t answer as I reach his right side, I grin up at him.

“I love that we’re still on the same page on this.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t fight my assumption.

“I’ll be back.”

“How long are you going to appease your aunt?”

I’m mid-stride before I pause at the question presented to me. One side glance confirms Coach Johnson is staring down at me with knowledgeable eyes.

Aww, man. He overheard the conversation.

Can’t really blame him when I’m the one who put it on speaker.

Bad habit of mine. Thanks, Auntie Dearest, who forced me to do every phone call with child and foster care services on speaker, so I wouldn’t rat her ass out.

“I don’t know,” I answer truthfully because I really don’t know. It’s a shame to admit it, but how do you get out of something you’ve been forced into for so many years? How do you cut off the cycle tendencies with someone toxic in a small town where everyone knows everything?

One wrong move and she can make sure everyone is against me.

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