being my most dedicated swimmer on the team. You ready to swim four races next year?”
“Really?”
“Really.”
My heart wasn’t going to survive the workout I was putting it through today. “Thank you!”
“Thank you. I mean it. Like I told the team at the ceremony the other night, you are what commitment looks like. I’m proud of you. I wish you could’ve been there to get recognized in front of everyone, but I understand.”
“Amelia didn’t tell me about this.”
“I asked the team not to tell you. I wanted to be the first.”
I gripped the plaque, staring at the words etched into the gold: Coach’s Award. Dedication and Commitment. Hadley Moore. “I wish my mom knew I was winning an award. Then we would’ve been there for sure.”
“I talked to your mom.”
“I know, but she just thought it was a team requirement and I told her that usually only seniors win the awards.”
He took off his baseball cap and ran his hand back and forth over his short hair, then replaced the cap. He seemed to decide against whatever he had been thinking about saying and handed me the now-empty envelope. “Congratulations.”
That’s when I realized what he wasn’t saying. “You told her.”
“Maybe she didn’t understand. I should’ve explained it better.”
“You told her about this award? That I was winning it?”
He nodded.
I started to make excuses for my mom. “It’s tradition . . . this thing for my brother. . . .” I trailed off when I saw the pity in his eyes. “Never mind.” I stood so fast that the chair fell over. I scrambled to pick it up, dropping the envelope. It slid beneath the chair I’d just righted. I grabbed it and made for the door. “Thanks for this.”
“Hadley—” he said, but I had already left. The shutting door cut off however he was going to finish that sentence.
My eyes stung. I just needed to get out of there, I thought as I walked as quickly as I could away from the office, trying to figure out where I could go. I made it out of the gym and around one corner before I slammed into Jackson. The award, the envelope, and I went flying backward. The clatter of metal bouncing along cement had me searching the ground where I had landed.
“Are you everywhere?” I growled.
“Moore. I’m sorry.” He held out his hand to help me up.
I picked up the plaque and saw the gold plate that spelled out the distinction was missing. It sat by Jackson’s foot. He bent over and picked it up.
“Nice,” he said, after reading it. “Congrats.”
I ripped it from his hand, scooped up the envelope where it had landed, and shoved the two now separate pieces of my award inside. Then I left. Of course he followed me.
“I’m trying to understand you, Moore.”
“Stop.”
“You hate me.”
“Hate is a strong word.”
He laughed. “Wow. I thought you’d deny it, but that was definitely not a denial. That was probably the furthest thing from a denial I’ve ever heard. Why don’t you like me?”
“Why do you care?” I asked quite suddenly.
He shrugged like he really didn’t.
My heart was pumping and my head was spinning and I just wanted Jackson out of my face. “You want to know why, Jackson? Why people like me don’t like people like you?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Because you’re a goof-off. You do nothing. Life is a joke to you. You just sail through it. All you think about is yourself and what you need to do to make people look at you. I work hard. Every day. And I try my best and I push myself in everything I do so they’ll notice me and do you know who still gets all the attention? Who everybody talks about? Who everyone is still more proud of and happier with and can’t forget about? Who everybody loves the most? You, Eric.” I stopped and swallowed hard. “I mean, Jackson. You . . .”
He had gone silent. I swiped at the tears that were trailing down my face, mad that I hadn’t been able to hold them back for a few more minutes. Then I turned and fled. I didn’t make it far before I couldn’t see through the blurriness. Worried I was going to run into a wall, I turned a corner and pressed my back against the building. If I had thought now was the time Jackson would grow up and leave me alone, I was mistaken.
He rounded the corner a few seconds after me.
“Please don’t,” I said.
For once