11. Let it Out
Chapter 11
Let it Out
JESSICA
“ A re you sure you’re okay?” Tek asks, sitting next to me.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I nod and smile, discreetly pulling out my phone and looking at my texts.
The One : Good morning!
The One : I’m heading back today. We should hang out tonight.
I read the text I sent Frank this morning over and over, but click out, rolling my eyes and looking out the window as we turn into the school stadium. He never texted me back… but I saw that he was online yesterday night when I couldn’t sleep. Is he not talking to me anymore?
When the bus comes to a halt, I barely have the energy to get up. The guys file off the bus and Tek and I are the only ones left as I tiredly stand and follow behind him since he offered to take me home. However, just as I’m about to exit, the coach places his hand in front of me.
“You stay back, Hurts,” he voices, mouth firm, and I immediately go on edge. What in the hell? Tek seems to want to stay back with me, but I shake my head, letting him know I’ll be okay. He files out, and I turn to Coach.
“What’s up, Coach?” I ask, trying to conceal my anxiety and feeling my leg tremble on edge.
“Sit down, Jessica,” he sighs, and I bite my lips, sitting hard with a thud.
“Coach, am I in trouble?” I croak out, throat feeling like it’s on fire.
“In trouble? Why? Did you do something to get in trouble?” My mouth pops open, but I have no words, so I try to find them.
“I fumbled the b—” He holds his hand up and my lips snap shut but my heart pounds hard as fuck. I would much rather him yell at me, but his quietness has me almost blinking back tears. He took a chance on me by letting me on this team, so I worked hard as fuck to prove my worth.
“Jessica, first let me ask… are you okay?” he asks as he looks at my cheek. “I heard this morning from Tek he accidentally hit you. I also heard that you scraped your knee in the snow.” I blink, confused until I remember that I was indeed punched in the face and my knee was on fire, but when I woke up the morning of the game, it was surprisingly better.
“I’m good, Coach,” I shrug, putting on a hard exterior. I can’t and won’t show weakness. I know he wouldn’t fault me if I did, but I’ve dealt with biased ass coaches before in my freshman year. To them, I was just a bitch who didn’t know her place, and they did everything in their power to make me aware that I wasn’t wanted on their team.
To them, I didn’t deserve to play because I don’t have a dick swinging between my legs. They would blame me for causing disarray on the team. I always had to run extra laps and was basically a ballboy on top of having to deal with sexual harassment. I suppress a shudder, thinking about when the coach grabbed my ass and felt up my shirt, telling me he’d give me more time on the field time if I sucked his dick.
I was kicked from the team the next day after I told him yeah and bit that mother fucker. After that incident, no one wanted to accept me, but I was adamant I was gon’ be on SOMEBODY’S football field even if I had to bulldoze my way in that mother fucker.
That was also when my dad started acting weird about my playing football with guys and tried to sell me on the Powderpuffs. I respect the girls for making a lane for us, but I want to play football not girl’s football, absolutely no shade to them.
So since my dad was acting funny, I took matters in my own hands and I did my own damn research. When Faythe and Bebe asked why I was so focused and I told them, they helped me too, and we found Coach Smith.
He’s a stand-up guy and respected in his field. He played defensive lineman in the NFL and he’s an active advocate for Black women. I can only respect a Black man like that, so I transferred schools to play for Coach Smith. He’s definitely rough around the edges, but he’s been good to me and allowed me a fair chance at playing.
“Jessica,” he pauses and stares at me seriously. “Why do you think I put you on the team?” he questions. I swallow, looking down and fiddling with my hands.
“I don’t know…to give me a chance?” He stares at me and my heart beats so loud I wonder if he hears it. He sighs, narrowing his eyes at me before shaking his head.
“Fuck no. I don’t give chances, Hurts. I put you on my team because you’re a good player.” His words shock me, and my mouth falls open.
“I… uhm… w-well th-thank you, Coach.”
“Don’t thank me. Just do what you’ve been doing. Keep your head in the game and don’t let one loss become two. I didn’t put you on my field for show. I put you there because you belong out there. Don’t prove me wrong.” He stands and exits the bus. I smile, shaking my leg, feeling the best I have felt since the loss. The coach believes in me… that’s all I need.
I don’t need much else. I stand, pulling out my phone to see if Frank texted, but nothing. I simply wipe away the pain. I’m used to it.
I file off the bus and immediately notice how empty it is outside. I frown, but when I look up, my heart fumbles right out of my damn chest when I see Frank standing in a cheerleading outfit that has my number and name on it and our team’s colors.