by HJ Bellus
He and his wife, Jane, would invite me over for dinner. He’d give me odd jobs, but I always refused his money. He’ll never know what he gave me was far more valuable than cold hard cash.
I manage to make it through the rest of the day with little incident. Well, in other eyes it’s more than little.
“Thank you,” I whisper to myself when I enter the locker room.
I keep my gaze glued to the floor, studying the swirling patterns in the tile. I don’t have a gym locker since Mom couldn’t afford to pay the twenty-dollar fee at registration. In fact, it was me signing up for high school being grateful it’s a public education system and the costs were all donations. Donations my ass. I was looked down on when I didn’t have the money for an activity card or fee for classes.
I managed to save up the hundred-dollar fee for sports even if it was slid across the counter in rolls of coins. Didn’t matter to me. I made it happen.
“Trash can, you really don’t know when to give up.”
A chorus of laughter ensues. I don’t look up, digging out my workout clothes from my bag. The used pair of black gym shorts causes a smile to spread across my face. Brinkley, my middle school teacher, always took care of me by sneaking used clothes in my bag and making sure I had stuff I needed. She and Papa Jones always took care of me. Two people out of this one-horse small town.
“Shit,” I hiss, reaching back, rubbing the ache from the back of my head.
I hear the roar of laughter. Some jackass took it upon himself to throttle a ball at the back of my head.
I grab the clothes then saunter to a bathroom stall, ignoring all of it, never reacting to their dick moves. I realize my mistake when I make it back out to the main area of the locker room. My bag has vanished as well as most of the players. I have no other choice than to set my worn jeans and thin as hell t-shirt on the bench. I won’t let this get me down when I’ve come this far.
I never played ball in middle school. I didn’t have a job then, so there was no way in hell I’d ever be able to pay the fees and get the minimal equipment. It didn’t stop Coach Brinkley from helping me in every way possible, even though she was a basketball coach.
“Here he comes.” I hear a whisper.
This time, it’s a mistake ignoring the taunt. I’m jumped from the back, and before I know it, I’m slammed down in a mud hole near the bleachers. A few kicks land on my sides, then my bag with all my textbooks plops down next to my face. The laughter is deafening, and it’s the first time the desire to fight back ignites inside me.
These assholes who have slammed me since Mom and I moved here will not ruin this moment in my life. Something inside of me cracks wide open, and I’m done being everybody’s punching bag. I hitch up onto my knees, my palms sliding around in the wet slop.
“Stay down, you piece of trash.” Another kick comes, and I’m done.
I fly up, my hands clenched in fists and ready to strike anyone who comes near. Before I have the chance to throw a first punch at any asshole near enough, I’m jerked back by my collar.
Jessie, the head coach, shakes me until he has my attention. He’s a god around here and has always treated me with the utmost respect. He encouraged me every year to try out for the middle school team. I’d come up with excuse after excuse. It’s well known around these parts that he was and is still in love with Papa Jones’ daughter. Heck, Jessie even tried to slip me enough money to cover my seventh-grade fees for football, but I wanted to earn the right to play.
“Answer carefully, boys,” he grits out, “because I’m only asking once. What in the hell is going on?”
My knees go weak from the deathly venom spinning off every word. Everyone goes silent. Not one coward steps up. I go to open my mouth to tell him everything is okay but then snap it shut. Because it’s not. This is my time. The years I’ve looked forward to. I’m years away from escaping my mom and living out my passion.
“Why are you so fucking quiet now?” he yells, the veins popping in his neck.
Jessie is known for his passion on and off the field. He makes no excuses for his language and temper when it comes to football.
“Someone better start talking before I really get pissed off.”
Cole, the ring leader of all the jocks, steps up and crosses his arms over his chest. He’s a junior and the star of the team. “Coach, we were teaching this punk here a lesson. Frankly, we don’t want trash like him on our field.”
“Is that right?” Jessie lets go of me and strides right through the mud until he’s up in Cole’s face.
“Yes, that’s right,” Cole replies.
“What if I don’t want a spoiled-ass rich kid on my team? You ever think about that? Your last name only gets you so far in life, Cole.” Jessie shoves his chest, standing up to him. “You want to lead this team, but you throw down a teammate in the mud, taunting him. You think that’s a good example of leading your team to another championship? I don’t fucking think so.”
Jessie steps back crossing his arms to match Cole’s stance. “Anyone else have anything to say.”
“No, sir.” A murmur washes over the air.
Cole slays his buddies with a death stare. I have no doubt they’ll pay later for their answer.
“You may live in a small town, but not one of my players will think like a small-minded idiot.” He walks back over to my side and slings an arm over my shoulders. “I’ve been watching Max since he attended his first football camp. And you’d do best to pick up on some of his work ethic, because he has the natural talent to place all your asses on the bench.”
Cole shakes his head and turns his back.
Jessie roars one more time. “Laps the entire time. You stop and I add another hour. You slow your asses down just a tick and I’ll add two hours. When you puke, I hope you think twice before pulling a stunt like this again. Fucking run!”
The players drop their helmets and pads and race to the track circling the football field. A foreign feeling creeps through me. I have no clue how to react to this sensation. Someone stuck up for me.
I wipe the mud from my face and turn to the track to join the team.
“Son,” Jessie places a palm on my shoulder, “don’t you ever let anyone treat you like that again. You fight back with all you have until you shut them up.”
“Yes, sir.” I extend my hand. “Thank you.”
He nods. I continue to the track.
“What are you doing?”
I turn back and look Jessie in the eyes. “Joining my team.”
“Did you hear me?” Little Jack slaps my cheeks. I’m taken back to that moment in the gas station when Papa Jack saved me even though he had no idea.
I shake my head, still shocked as hell. Mom and Dad told me Whit had a regional dance recital this weekend and that they’d be listening to the game on the radio.
I could see it now. Dad making sure Whit had all her glitter and shit while Mom chased Jack around while nursing Emma. It would be a shit show, but the best time ever. Dad would have an ear piece with the game in his ear randomly shouting out about the shit plays and calls.
“No, Junior, I didn’t. What’s that?” I stand up and bring Jack to my chest.
“We’s surprised you and now gonna eat pizza. Lots and lots of it and Momma said we get ice cream, too, cause you playing on the big thingy.”
Jules steps up with baby Emma clutched to her chest and runs a hand down Jack’s back. “The big screen, little guy.”
“Screw football,” Whit mumbles, kicking the toe of her Con on the pavement.
“Language,” Mom scolds her.
“It’s football season.” She shrugs her shoulders. The venom of her pre-teen attitude is in full force.
I set Jack at Mom’s feet and head to Whit. At one point in time, she was the center of attention and in her own right still is. This girl will never be in the shadows. She’s struggling with the tug of war of puberty where she’s no longer a baby girl but not yet an adult.
; “Hey, Squirt.” I ruffle her slicked-back ponytail. I dodge her arm before she has the chance to connect to my sides. “Oh, don’t you smile.”
“Knock it off, Max!” She swings harder and faster.
I’ve got size and power on her. She has no hope. The harder she fights against me, the more her smile appears on her face. I take advantage of her stance, grabbing her and slinging her over my shoulder in a fireman’s hold.
“Who’s the champion? That’s right, I am,” I taunt, dancing around in the parking lot.
“Put me down, Max. I swear I’m going to destroy you.”
“Oh yeah.” I lean forward, giving her hope of being set down, then jerk back up. “Gonna get me in one of those dance ninja moves?”
“You’re a jerk,” she manages to get out between giggles.
I jerk and weave around the parking lot before putting her back down. Before she’s able to dart away from me, I whisper in her ear.
“Love you, little girl, sass and all.”
“Love you too, Max.”
She then promptly steps back, still feigning anger towards Jack. The battle is real between these two. They’ll be wrestling and beating the crap out of each other before long.
“Max.” Jules is next with one arm held open.
“Mom.” I grab her and pull her towards me, being careful of my youngest sister, Emma.
I never thought I’d be able to use the term “Mom” again until Jules and her undying love.
“You look too skinny. Have you been eating? I swear, Max, if you don’t drink protein shakes and warm up meals in your dorm, I’m gonna swat your ass.”
I close my eyes and let true love sweep in. It’s the only thing that has ever warmed me from head to toe. These are my people, and I’ll never let go.
“Jesus, Jules, he’s a grown man.” Dad pushes her away and gives me his sort of one-armed hug.
“Yeah, Wesus, he’s a full man,” Jack chirps.
Mom shakes her head, and we all erupt in laughter. Even Whit finds herself laughing.
“How did this happen? Whit has competition.” Jack tugs at my jeans, so I pick him back up. The boy is nowhere near being a toddler, but it doesn’t stop him. Any athlete wouldn’t need a workout with this chub around.
“Surprise.” Whit waves her hands in the air, pointing to the truck.
That’s when I see all the decorations covering my old work truck. My high school number, twenty-four, is plastered all over it with a gaudy mix of my high school and college colors. This has Mom written all over it.
Dad wraps an arm around my shoulder, ushering our family toward my truck. “Knew you were getting homesick and thought we’d bring a little bit of home to you.”
I shake my head, not knowing what else to do. It’s my second year of college. I should be thriving and not wanting more or missing my family. I came a long damn way and want more than what I have. It’s a selfish jerk move. I love football, live for the game and the high I get from it, but I want to make a difference. These thoughts rattle around in my head on repeat, making me second guess everything.
“Son, just breathe. It’s gonna be okay.” Dad squeezes me tighter to his side.
He’s the only person who knows all my demons and thoughts. You’d think telling the God of football I want more would be grounds for disowning me. Not with Jessie. He loves with all his heart and makes no regrets about it.
“Where’s Ally?” Whit spins and twirls in front of us.
“She has to work an extra shift tonight,” I answer her.
“What!” Mom halts her step, her voice echoing around the parking lot. “Are you fricking kidding me?”
And here we go. Mom has never cared for Ally. I always found it odd since Jules is one of the most accepting and caring people I’ve ever known.
“Really, Mom?” Whit plops her hands on her hips. “You can say fricking, but when I do, you act like I’ve just dropped the F-bomb in church.”
She ignores Whit and opens her mouth to give me the same damn speech I’ve heard over and over. Dad steps in, wrapping her up in his arms and kissing the hell out of her with their new baby safely in their arms.
“Dis-gust-ing,” Whit sings out.
Jack follows her lead because that’s what he does.
“Come on, you little shits.” I usher them into my truck.
Once they’re buckled in, I roll down the window, twisting the old school handle, and lean out.
“Pizza on Fifth Avenue.” Dad nods.
“Got it,” I reply.
They turn, and Dad takes advantage of Mom, squeezing her ass and never letting go.
“They are so damn gross,” Whit announces, knowing I let the little cuss words slip by.
I shake my head, feeling at home even though I’m hundreds of miles away. “It’s love, Whit, and you’re surrounded by it. Cherish that shit.”
“Gherish that shit,” Jack chirps beside me with a mile-wide smile on his face, his tiny white teeth shining brightly.
Chapter 2
I roll over in my bed to find a warm body cuddled next to mine. Ally. I brush my hand down her cheek, taking in her perfect features. I lean in, kissing her forehead. This girl has always been there for me. She was the first friend at my side my freshman year of high school and never wavered even when I had to prove myself to my teammates. She held my hand during my mom’s funeral and never left.
She rustles around, curling closer into me. I run my hands through her silky raven hair and kiss the tip of her nose. Even though Ally comes from a wealthy family, you’d never know. She has bucked the system at every turn, doing things on her own.
My cellphone lights up with a social media notification. I recognize the time and the game day tag on Twitter. My alarm will be serenading us in less than ten minutes. I reach over and click off the alarm, not wanting it to wake Ally after she pulled a double shift. It wasn’t the first time this week. I’ll never understand her need to work so damn much.
“You just gonna stare at me?” Ally rolls over until she’s settled on top of me with her palms splayed out on my chest.
“Maybe.” I squeeze her fleshy hips.
“I’m thinking my MVP has some releasing to do before his big home game.” She grinds her center down on me.
And I’m ready. She’s wearing a t-shirt with my number plastered on the front. Her full breasts push through the tight shirt. There’s no more talking as Ally pulls me from my shorts and sinks down on me. She’s always known exactly how to take care of me, and she’s nailed it down to perfection.
Minutes later, we kiss under the hot spray of the shower. I drop my forehead to hers and cup her cheeks, grounding myself in my future, clinging onto the little bit of hope I have left inside of me. It deafens out those thoughts of wanting more with my life.
“God, it feels so good being bare inside you.” I peck her lips. “Why did we wait so damn long?”
Ally shrugs then wraps her arms low around my waist, resting her cheek on my chest. “I love you, Max.”
Odd. Ally is always one to banter back with me with her witty mind. She must be exhausted. I run my hands all over her creamy skin, letting the sweet smell of coconuts and mandarins intoxicate me. It’s her smell. I still remember the first day she walked up to me at my locker with that scent hitting me hard.
“You tired, baby?” I cup her face and force her to look up at me.
She nods. There’s something behind those eyes, and I can’t quite figure it out. “Exhausted.”
I don’t say another word, turning off the shower and getting her dried off. I tuck her naked body back into my bed, tugging the blankets up to her chin. “Get some sleep before the game.”
“Thanks, Max. You always take care of me.”
I brush her wet hair back. “I always will.”
“Were you surprised last night?” she asks, rolling over to her side and tucking my pillow under her arm.
“Yeah.” I jump into a pair of boxers and pull my suit from
the closet. “Good one, babe. The kids missed you.”
“I know.” Her eyes flutter shut. “I felt so bad, but we have today.”
And with that, our conversation is over. I don’t know how to explain it, but all I know is there is a tug deep in my stomach that the end is near, and it won’t matter how hard I fight to keep us together.
I shoulder my white dress shirt on and fasten my slacks. I hate this part the most out of all the damn hoops we have to jump through for game days. College is a whole new playing field. Back at home, I’d be lying on the couch wrestling with the kids then heading to my truck in gym shorts. The town would have school flags out and the school logo painted in every intersection. That’s the football I loved.
I turn to look in the mirror to make sure my tie is straight because I damn well know Mom will chew my ass. I smirk and turn back to Ally before pulling on my suit jacket. Her purse tumbles to the ground, sounding like a damn grenade went off. She doesn’t move an inch.
“Jesus, she’s out.” I bend down to gather up the shit that flew from her oversized purse. I freeze when the baggie comes into view. It’s a different one then last time. I roll it over in my palm and glance up to Ally.
Last time, she told me it was her friend’s bag of meth and that she was disposing of it for her. I clench the poison in my hand, growing pissed off. I wonder what her excuse will be this time. It’s the moments in the shower or waking up next to her that’s kept me clinging.
My phone chirps, and I know it’s from Coach. I leave her shit on the floor and toss the baggie on the bed next to her. It’s a dick move, but the nicest thing I can do right now in the moment. Ally is always the life of the party, enjoying alcohol but never taking it too far.
I perch my hands on my hips and stare down at her. Anger, love, and hurt brew inside me, creating a perfect, awful storm tearing me apart. I bring a hand to grip the back of my neck and squeeze tight.