the lab and the restrooms, his office is decorated in yellows and browns. He sits back behind his desk, and says, “We have a problem.”
I fall into the chair in front of him, releasing a yawn.
“Chill, Coach. It’s just one game. Besides, I—”
“Ain’t nobody talking about the game.” He slaps the table with his meaty palm, roaring, “I just got off the phone with Gabe Prichard, All Saints High’s principal. He told me about your little incident in his locker room Thursday.”
Dafuq? My mind reels with four thousand different questions. Why now? What happened? Has she dumped him? Did her parents find out? How does that fare for my sorry ass? I can’t get suspended. I. Can’t. Get. Suspended. Fuck all the Prichards and Joshes of the world.
“Spill it, boy.” Coach laces his fingers together, cradling an invisible baby he’s about to toss across the room. I’ve never seen him so red in my life. Then again, the principal of the most affluent school in California has never threatened him before.
“What, no beer and porn? I need to be in the right mood to talk about my sexcapades.” I stretch my long legs. “I hooked up with a chick from there. I didn’t touch shit. Other than the chick.”
“Daria Followhill,” he clips, digging his fingers into his eye sockets in frustration.
“That her name?” I play dumb.
“You know her name, Scully.”
Who the fuck doesn’t?
“Is she too princess for me, Coach? Think I should aim a little lower?”
“I think wherever you aim, don’t do it in her direction unless you want your football career dying a sudden, painful death. I struck a deal with Prichard, who seemed adamant about you not going anywhere near his school again unless in a professional capacity. I gave him my word that you will keep away from Miss Followhill, and he, in turn, will overlook the fact you were trespassing.”
I live with her. I want to laugh in his face. But since volunteering this information is a no-go, I smirk. If he’s expecting a thank you, or worse—any type of cooperation—he obviously hasn’t been paying attention.
It’s not that I don’t want to go pro—I do. Hell, it’s my best chance to get out of this shithole. It’s that I don’t listen to people like Prichard, who only care about themselves and their dicks. If I’ve learned one thing about this life, it’s that you can’t let the bad guys win.
And Prichard? He doesn’t want me off Daria’s back because he’s concerned for her. He’s doing it because he wants her.
“Scully, give me your word,” Coach probes, his ten-month pregnant belly poking out of the edge of his red Coach shirt we got him for Christmas. “There’s too much on the line, and there’re a lot of pretty blondes out there. You’ll be drowning in them at any self-respecting D1 college. Besides, think about Adriana.”
I tip my head down, gesturing with my open arms.
“You have my word, Coach Higgins, that I won’t get suspended.”
He doesn’t catch the semantics.
Because to him, I’m just a dumb kid, and she’s just one blonde bimbo out of many.
I’m still clad in my gridiron football pants and varsity jacket when I kick the door to the Followhills’ mansion open, holding my duffel bag, school backpack, and a huge-ass Amazon Prime box Bailey ordered. Probably more poetry books we’ll burn through over the weekend. I don’t wanna know what the Followhills’ credit card bill looks like at the end of every month. Their daughters spend money like it’s a competitive sport.
“Bailey, I swear to fucking God, you consume words just as much as you speak them, and that’s somethin’,” I groan. No answer back, so I guess the house is empty.
I dump the box in the foyer and walk over to the kitchen to fix myself a nutritious meal consisting of six slices of pizza and shove them into the microwave. While I wait for them to heat, I gulp down an entire carton of orange juice. It’s crazy how quickly things change. When I moved here less than two weeks ago, everything in the fridge was so small and cute and mini.
Small cottage cheese. Tiny boutique personal bottles of juices. Individual cheese strings. Then I arrived. Melody got her Costco card two days later when she realized I’d eat the fucking counter if no one stopped me. Now everything here comes in bulk. There’s enough meat in the freezer to reassemble an entire farm.
I lean a hip against the counter and hoover