Coach Harris chews a wad of gum, his blue eyes narrowed and angry. “We need you to tell us what happened yesterday.”
I flex my fingers around the arms of the chair, sitting up a little taller. “A friend and I were downtown.” At the mention of a friend, Coach flinches. I can’t tell if it’s because he doesn’t want others to know my involvement with Liv or because he’s pissed at the reminder she was there. No doubt, he knows. Liv was visible in nearly all the videos and memes Rose showed me. “We were trying to hurry back to my car because it started to rain, and ahead of us, some girls were being harassed by a group of guys. I asked them to stop and leave them alone, and one of them came at me and threw a punch. Concerned for the safety of those around me, I defended myself and them, and I hit him.”
Coach leans back in his chair. The guy in the gray suit clears his throat. “And then you proceeded to beat up three more of them. Is that correct?”
“They came at me.”
“And you didn’t call the police or try to ask them to stop?” he asks
I try to stop the scoff that has my spine growing rigid. “Have you ever been in a fight? There’s not a lot of time to reach for your phone and dial someone.”
“Arlo, Brighton cares about our students and also the message that is reflected on behalf of our institution. Playing for this school is an honor, and we expect everyone who plays on our sports teams to uphold that same high standard, and yesterday, you failed miserably. You failed Brighton, and your team, and yourself, and you know we have a zero-tolerance policy for violence.” Coach Harris pins me with a stare, his words making me questioning what seconds ago I knew was the right thing.
“Coach, you saw the tape, right? What was I supposed to do? Those girls were like fifteen.”
“I understand, but I told you when you came to Brighton that there would be no tolerance for fighting, and then you brought Olivia out and then acted like you did.” His jaw flexes. “Arlo, you’ve come a long way. You’re one hell of a player, and this spring, you’ve made me realize you have a damn good head on your shoulders for the game. You were helping your teammates and supporting them, leading them from the sideline—which isn’t an easy task.
“It saddens me to inform you that your scholarship has been terminated and you have been expelled, effective immediately. We can’t allow exceptions because if we do, the line will always get blurred.”
“Coach,” I say, leaning forward as my heart bangs against my chest like a drum. “Are you kidding? Did you see what they were doing? There were five of them following those girls.”
Coach Harris shakes his head, sliding a sheath of papers toward me. Behind him, Coach Craig refuses to meet my stare, closing his eyes. “Then you should have called the cops, not acted like a vigilante.”
“So, you’re telling me that you’re kicking me off the team because I tried to help two girls from being potentially attacked?”
Coach Harris pulls his shoulders back and raises his chin. “I’m telling you that you should pack your bags. You’re out of Brighton.”
35
Arlo
I swing by the apartment, relieved to find Rose gone, and shove a few pairs of clothes into my duffel. I plan to spend spring break intoxicated and forgetting about everything. The curse. Olivia. Football. Matt. New Jersey. My knee—everything.
I meet Pax and Lincoln at Raegan and Poppy’s new apartment. They moved in only a couple of weeks ago, and it already looks more put together than the house we’ve lived in for two years.
I drop two paper bags filled with booze on the table, the bottles clinking together.
Rae Rae eyes the liquor. “Please tell me you didn’t invite a bunch of people over for a party. I don’t care if the internet thinks you look like Thor, we’re not having a crazy party.”
I shake my head. “This is all for me.”
Rae looks at Lincoln and then Poppy while I pull out a fifth of English whiskey and rip off the plastic seal.
“What’s going on?” Rae Rae asks. “Is everything okay with Olivia?”
I nod. “Yup. She’s in Texas visiting her ex but not ex-boyfriend.”