Falling for Seven (23 page)

THE BITTER AROMA OF freshl
y
brewe
d
coffee led me straight to the kitchen, where my mom sat half-asleep, flipping through last night’s paper. She scarcely looked up as I walked in, ready for early morning practice. I took the last Gatorade from the fridge, then closed the door, leaning my back against it. She wasn’t going to go first, so I went ahead. “I stand by what I said. You’re too good for him, and I don’t like him.”

“You don’t know him,” she said with her back to me.

“I know what you tell me. But it’s your decision to date him. I shouldn’t have blew up like that, I’m sorry.”

She closed the paper and pulled out the chair next to her. I took the seat, resting one arm on the table, holding the Gatorade. “I need to get back out there. Start dating. Gary’s a safe start, and I’m willing to wager that he’s nothing like how he is in the office.”

“Just make sure he treats you right.”

“I don’t need you to worry about me. I’m the mom. I’ll worry about you.” She drained her coffee and then stood, taking her cup to wash up in the sink. “Want me to make you some breakfast before practice?”

“You know I don’t eat before practice or games.”

“I can make you something to go.”

“I’m good,” I said. There was nothing to eat in this kitchen apart from cereal and mom’s fruity granola crap. “I can go to the store after practice.”

“I got it. Anything you want me to pick up for you?”

“Whatever you get is cool. No junk.”

“Never.” She shut off the faucet, looking at me over her shoulder. “Your dad’s coming next Friday. He’s taking Taj to some big skate event. They’ll be gone for the weekend. He would’ve liked to have made it to your game Saturday. He’s always asking about you. Have you stopped taking his calls?”

“I’m busy. I’ll call him when I get a chance. I’m going to be late, and I’ve got a thing after practice so I won’t be home till later. I’ll be back for Taj, though, around twelve.”

I stood and kissed her on the cheek. She stared back at me, dwarfed in my shadow. “You have a thing?”

“Yeah.”

“And what
thing’s
that?”

“I’ll tell you later. I gotta go. C’ya.”

I pulled up to the stadium the same time as Nicky. The Game ‘Moment of violence’ vibrated from his open windows and he slammed his hand on the steering wheel, blaring the horn. He hopped out of the white Jetta, banging against my door. “You brought my ride. How nice of you.”

I got out, picking up my sports bag from the passenger side. “The only time you will ever get inside this baby, is to ride shot-gun. And you’re lucky I let you do that.”

Nicky patted me on the back. “You finally got on board the Angel Express, huh?”

“Fucking moron. Not yet. But if I’m not in ‘n’ out by next weekend, cars yours—for a month. I’m not dumb enough to hand over a seventy-thousand dollar ride.”

“I’ll take a month and you can have blue balls. You haven’t tapped that now. You never will. Good effort, but your game’s seriously lacking, man.”

“Fuck you.”

I pulled open the door to the locker room. We were the last ones in, the rest of the team in different stages of getting changed. I got into my practice jersey and football pants, laced up my cleats and then carried my helmet out with me onto the field. Coach waved us into the middle, standing with his hands on his hips. The brim of a green and orange Lions cap shaded his eyes from the sunlight reflecting off his powder-white sneakers.

“Big game Saturday, boys.”

Nicky grunted, looking around at the team. “Where’s the boys? All man here.” He grabbed his crotch, grinning.

“The debates still out on you, Emmerson. Now let go of your vagina and get the fuck on the sidelines and give me one-hundred press-ups.” O’Hara blew on his whistle, provoking Nicky into moving.

“Fuck,” Nicky grumbled, running to the end of the field.

“Now the rest of you ladies, ready to get started? Or do you need another minute to get your hormones under control?”

Two and a half hours in, Coach called the end of practice, hustling everyone into the changing rooms. “Good practice. Now move it.”

I slammed my locker closed and picked up my bag, throwing it over my shoulder. Coach stood outside his door and peeled off his cap. “Got a minute, Seven?”

“As long as it’s quick. I gotta be somewhere.”

“It will be. I have to be somewhere, too.”

I assumed we’d be going into his office, but he locked the door behind him and walked towards the exit. Daylight broke at the end of the tunnel and we stood on the edge of the field, the white sidelines at the tip of my toes.

“I used to play football in college and high school. QB, just like you.” I turned my head sideways. A far-away look shadowed Coach’s face and he lifted his head, staring at the end-zone. “I was set to sign for the New England Patriots as a free agent.”

“What happened?”

“Bad sack. I busted my knee and two surgeries later, my career was officially over.”

“And that’s why you coach college ball? Why not go into the NFL? You could be coaching the top teams.”

“I’ve thought about it.” I waited for the rest of his answer. A gray cloud blanked out the sun and a cool shade fell over the stadium. “I want to make sure someone else gets a shot at the pros and doesn’t have to go through the same disappointment I did.” He turned to face me, smoothing his hand over his jaw. “I met with a few scouts and agents last night. The interest in you is huge this year. But once you enter the draft, that’s it. Your college days are over and I’m not just talkin’ football here, I’m talkin’ college classes, your education. It’s all over and your future is football, football, football. No fallback. You sure that’s what you want?”

Football was the only thing I was good at. It was all I really cared about. There was no future in anything else. Football owned me, and I couldn’t picture it any other way. I was a baller inside and out “Was that what you wanted?” I asked.

“There was never any doubt.”

“There’s no doubt here, either, Coach.”

“I’ve seen the stats from other prospects and your grade will be one of the highest. You’ll have all types badgering you into accepting shit you have no business accepting. You leave the agents to me, you got that?”

“I’m not interested in them. I just want to play ball.”

“Then you better make an impression at this year’s play offs, because there’ll be no chances after and you can’t afford to fuck this up the way I did.”

<>

Taj was waiting for me on the stoop with his backpack secured on two shoulders and a wool hat propped on top of his head, the pom-pom sagging. His hair was still all over, curling around his ears and now level with his shoulders. Kid needed a haircut. I’d have to take him. Mom would let it grow till it reached his knees, but I knew it got in his way.

The door opened behind him and mom came out, tapping him on the shoulder to let him know I was here. She locked up and grabbed his face in her hands, kissing him on the cheek when he moved last minute to avoid the lips. “Julian,” she said, dropping her keys into her bag. “Since when do you go to figure skating shows?” her lips parted in a smile and I rolled my eyes, firing up the engine.

You talk too much
, I signed to Taj as he buckled up beside me.
I know she’s your mom, but do you have to tell her everything?

What?
He shucked his backpack from his shoulders, opening the zipper. He could never go without his PSP for too long. His body might go into shock.
She asked where we were going.

I think it’s cute.” Mom leaned in through my open window and pulled my cheek.

“Get lost,” I said, diving out of the way. “It’s schoolwork.”

“So you keep saying. Okay. Haven fun with your
schoolwork
and I’ll see you tonight.”

I wound up my window to half-way and let her turn around in front of me before she honked on her horn, passing us by.

When we got to the ice-rink, Marilyn was waiting next to the entrance, her fingers flying across the screen of her cell. She looked up, spotting us amongst the parked cars. “Hey,” she said. She looked down at Taj, and I quickly said. “He’s deaf.”

Her features momentarily transformed. “Ah.” Taj zipped his PSP into a side pocket of his backpack and shrugged it back onto his shoulders. He looked up at Marilyn and she smiled, waving at him. He waved back. “Is this your brother?” she asked.

“Yeah, his name’s Taj.”

“Very cute,” she said. “Here.” She passed me two tickets. “I’m waiting for Mario, but we’re sitting right by you.”

“Did you tell her I was coming?” If Angel knew I was here she might cancel the fucking show.

“And miss the look on her face? Don’t be silly. I’m surprised you would want these, though. Without meaning to sound intrusive or assuming, is something going on with you two?”

“Trying to get know her better. She came to a game, so I figured I should see her skate.”

“She didn’t mention that.”

“Did she have to?”

“I find it kinda strange that she would hide that from me. I’m a typical, I’m intrigued when secrets are being kept. Are you secretly dating?”

I leaned in, catching a taste of her excitement over the possibility of me and Angel together. It felt wrong to burst her bubble. “Would you keep it a secret if we were?”

Her eyes grew wide and she pinched her lips together, nipping at the corner with her teeth. “I fucking knew it,” she said with a heavy breath. “I’m all for it. Good for her. Good for you.” She prodded me in the arm with an illustrious smile on her face. “It’s about time she gave Jordan the boot.”

“Yeah, what’s the deal with him, anyway?”

“She would kill me if she knew I was saying this, but Angel was—is—” she cringed. “Sorry, but she’s so available to him and he hung her out to dry. He keeps hanging her out to dry. So what it is exactly that you are both doing? Dating….”

“I don’t date.”

Marilyn’s smile turned smug. “Angel doesn’t hook up. She never has and I doubt she ever will. You’re fishing in the wrong pond, Seven,”

“I don’t fish either.”

She shrugged like I’d failed at convincing her. “Just saying, you’re wasting your time. Angel’s not your girl, and especially not after what she’s going through.”

“Chill out. That’s not what I’m after. Like I said, she came to my game and I wanted to see her skate. All those half-naked girls. How could a guy turn away from such an opportunity?”

“Yeah,” she said with suspicion, “I still think somethings going on. Guys like you should never be trusted.

“Guys like me?”

“You’re a jock, you’re insanely hot. I’ve been attending the same University as you for almost three years now, I see how you act.”

“And how do I act?” I crossed my arms, a sense of enjoyment from this outsiders jaded observations of me.

“Like you own everyone. And it’s not your fault. It’s because everyone lets you.”

“You are painting me in a really ugly light.”

“I never said it was bad. It’s… authoritative. I’ve never seen you treat anyone disrespectfully and it’s not that you’re a bully. But you get what you want when you want it. Girls would throw themselves at you. They probably already have.”

“Are you calling me a man-whore?”

“No. I’ve only ever seen you with Kit, but I know she isn’t your girlfriend.”

“And?”

“If you don’t date, and you already have a sex-buddy, then what do you want with Angel? This assignment crap is no longer flying with me. I’m very observant, I see something else here even if she doesn’t.”

I had no idea why I was telling her this—why I even felt the need. “Kit and I are over.”

Marilyn dropped her head and brought her fingers to her lips, smirking. “So what does that mean?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I just wanted you to know that.”

“Are you hoping I’ll tell a certain someone?”

“I’ll tell her myself. See you inside.”

I handed over our tickets at the booth and received one half back. With his PSP back in his hands and a soda and M&M’s, Taj was sitting happy. I tugged out a blue hoody from his bag and tossed it onto his lap, covering the screen of his game. “Put that on. Knowing you, you’ll catch cold.” He groaned, but pulled the hoody over his head, rearranging his hat.

That’s not how you catch cold,
he signed at me like I was some dumbass.

I signed back,
I know that. Get the sweater on.

I had on a black sweater and jeans but I was still uncomfortably cool. I put on my snap back, covering the brim with my hands and twisting it to the back. I missed the extra few inches of hair on my head.

Marilyn and Mario Demara, the center forward for the Lions hockey team, shuffled into the aisle, Mario flipping down the seat next to mine.