29. Parker
PARKER
The captain of Dickhead Prep stares me down with an intensity that has me questioning if he wants to fuck me or fight me, but all I can think about is how angry I am at Arabella and how glad I am that Sable missed all of that.
The ref stands between us, rambling about sportsmanship and how close our two teams are to getting tossed out of the league.
Arabella has always been a bitch, and this isn’t the first time she’s tried to make a fool of an Offering.
She’s jealous and has gotten away with a lot as a result of her relationship with Soren, but this time, it won’t be like that.
My best friend is going to get her in line, or we’re going to have serious problems.
“Agreed?” the ref asks, pulling me out of my thoughts. I need to get my head in the game. There’s too much riding on me to have my head up my ass.
We both nod, but I’m more in agreement with my own thoughts than his.
Despite the fact that neither of us actually spoke, he says, “Good. Let’s get moving then.” He tosses the coin, and it flips over itself as it flies through the air.
“Heads,” Captain dickhead calls. The coin flips a few more times before coming to a stop in the ref's palm, and he reveals the coin.
“Tails,” he announces. The whistle blows. “Bellthorn kicks off.”
Edgemont, our kicker, steps up to Conrad, the holder, squats with one hand on the top of the ball and the other on the ground to steady himself, with the laces turned out on the ball.
The setup is perfect, and Edgemont takes a few kick steps before striking the ball.
The ball tips end over end, much like the coin toss, as it sails across the field.
Their running back has a secure catch on the ball and jumps as he grabs it.
As soon as he lands, his cleats dig in, and he takes it up the field.
My favorite linebacker Darrigan is already on him, and the whistle screeches as they hit the ground.
I breathe deep, excitement and fear warring inside me as I take the field.
“Black Cup,” I call to the guys, and they nod as they take their positions.
The Montclair captain stares me down as I find my own, and I know I’m going to have him up my ass all game, whether it helps his play or not.
He’s got a grudge. I stand behind my center, and he gets in position.
One overly intimate tap, and he passes me the ball.
My head is everywhere but on this game as my hands tighten around the ball.
Get it together, Parker, I reprimand myself as I check to see if my wide receiver is ready for me.
He’s too heavily covered, so I decide to run it myself before tossing it to my tight end.
The more I try to force my head into the game, the worse I do.
I know these plays so well that they run me rather than the other way around, and thinking too much about them is having a horrible effect on my usually awesome instincts.
I’m ready, above distractions, I lie to myself, but in reality, I’m murderously angry.
“Park, I’m open,” he calls, but I throw the ball, and I feel how wrong it went as it leaves my fingers, but it’s too late to stop it.
Montclair takes the ball and starts running it back up the field to our end zone.
The play goes to shit, and they score the first touchdown.
I curse as the crowd explodes, screaming my frustrations into my helmet.
I know my father is either watching or listening from the bar, having the same reaction I am.
I’m failing everyone right now, and I owe more than my father after the strings I’ve pulled.
All I can think about is how much I hate Arabella and how angry I am at my best friend for allowing her to think she was anyone to him.
He doesn’t even like her, and she’s here trying to torture my personal obsession.
My glare easily finds Soren in the crowd.
He’s sitting where I expected, but everything is wrong, and my skin feels slimy.
He shakes his head at me, and I know him well enough to see he wasn’t in on what she had planned, but something more is going on, too.
I don’t know how Arabella did it, but it matched her father’s car perfectly.
Even the damage was similar, and she’s fucked this game up for everyone, too.
My hands shake as I even consider finding Sable in that situation.
“Parker, get your miserable ass back in the game!” Coach yells, and I turn around to see that the next play is already set up, and the only piece missing is me.
For the next three and a half hours, I do my best and my worst. I am trying harder than I ever have in my life, desperate not to fail, desperate to fix things with Sable, desperate for her not to feel the pain of reliving that accident. And all that gives me is stomach pain and a tied game.
“You’re not yourself tonight,” Darrigan comments to me right after Coach finishes yelling at us.
We’re setting up for the final play, and I only manage not to tell him to fuck off because he’s a nice guy.
I’m too angry, ready to start a fight with anyone, even my own team, but the Montclair captain is looking better and better.
“You think making fun of someone for getting driven off a bridge is funny?”
“Nah, man. I really don’t, but you kind of have to expect it with the way you guys treat those girls.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I’m getting upset as I hoped, but not in the way I planned.
“I mean, in some ways, they have it really good, right? So girls are going to be jealous, but also, you guys kind of torture them. Do you think most girls want to come and sell themselves? Nah, it’s embarrassing for all of them and for the rest of their lives if they stay in this social circle.
You have to expect shit like this when you bring girls here and do what you guys do. ”
This is the very first time I’ve considered there might be a real downside to having Sable here, but it doesn’t matter.
I can protect her. She wasn’t here tonight, and that was lucky.
She doesn’t even know that her little altercation in the gymnasium earlier would have led to this.
Hadrian said a lot of things earlier, and he'd better fucking watch it.
“I never thought about it like that, so why would you?”
He laughs, but he is a thoughtful kind of person. “Sometimes it’s hard to see how things look from the outside, especially when you’re the one enjoying the perks. Right?”
“Right,” I agree, but I’m not sure I really understood anything he said.
The play begins, and instead of overthinking it, I relax.
My body takes over, my instincts kick in, and we score the final touchdown.
The team celebrates around me, people whoop and cheer.
It seems like an awesome victory, a good and entertaining game that people wanted to watch, but I’m so full of fear that my knuckles are white, and my muscles are tense all over.
My phone is in the locker room, but I can feel it vibrating from here, and I already know what’s waiting for me when I get back to it.
You won, but that was too damn close. You can’t play with my money.
Win or you’re nothing. The specific words change, but the flavor of his insults is always the same.
People want to talk to me, shake my hand, even take pictures, but I just don’t have it in me.
I can’t be the smiling, likable Parker they all rely on.
The truth is much too close to the surface right now.
I’m a brute, an animal, someone who will do anything to get what I want, just like my father.
Grasping, selfish, taker, nothing without a football field and a ball in your hand.
I ignore the locker room, my teammates who will want to party, and the cheerleaders desperate for a chance to hang on my arm because they might look down on Sable for being the Offering, but they don’t look down on me for having one.
I didn’t think about the consequences of my actions that Sable might bear.
That the social aspect of being here would be hard, or what it’s like to be a woman surrounded by jealous women.
I won’t let this happen again, but there isn’t room inside me for my multilayered guilt and failings.
The university is a blur as I make my way back to my room.
My gear stinks from the game. Filth covers me, and if I had anything left inside me, I would shower in the locker room, but I don’t.
I don’t even have my phone. My door flies open, and I look around at the trophies.
I hate them. I hate this school. I hate my father and myself and every goddamn thing that has brought me here.
I pick up a trophy I won last spring playing baseball.
I don’t even like baseball. I rage impotently to myself, but lift the trophy and smash it on the ground.
It shatters into a million pieces, and the bang echoes in the cavernous space, but it’s not enough.
I pick up another piece of the bullshit and do it again.
My hollow, bullshit trophies smash across the ground one after another, until a pounding on my door finally gets my attention.
My eyes look at the hall, but I realize that’s not it.
The knocking is coming from Sable’s room.
I open the door, my heart in my throat when I see her, but if I wanted softness, I was looking in the wrong place.
“Can you shut the hell up? I’m trying to sleep!” She points an angry finger in my face. “Why are you still in your uniform?” she asks, looking me over like I’m deranged. She used to be a cheerleader once upon a time and understands she’s seeing unusual behavior. I don’t give a shit anymore.
I step toward her. “No, but you can.” She gasps as I lift her and throw her over my shoulder. Kicking the door to my room shut behind me, I decide it’s time to take some of my anger out on Sable’s ass.