6. Ryder
Ryder
Iwas in the fifth grade when people began whispering about my talent on the field.
My parents were still married at the time, and my dad was one of those dads.
You know, over-obsessed, yelled too much from the sidelines, and essentially embarrassed me to the point I became numb.
But it was because of the whispering that he used this as leverage to seek out the best private school in Tampa.
Did I want to leave all of my friends behind and move to a new school not in my neighborhood?
No. But as we watched the playoffs and then the Super Bowl together that year, he continually reminded me that the people at this school knew people.
That I was heading to middle school, I’d be going to a new school anyway, and this school would make my dreams come true.
To make him happy, I said yes and turned in my T-shirts and Jordans for a blazer and tie.
I loved making him happy. He was the best when he was laughing and rubbing his hand playfully in my hair.
He didn’t hug me often, and I craved those moments when his attention was affectionate and not angry.
As an adult now, I’ve thought a lot about what he had to be so angry about, and I don’t get it.
My mother is wonderful. We lived in a nice house in a nice neighborhood, his job was going well, and he had friends.
I can’t figure out why he chose to live miserably.
Life is too short to be that discontented.
Now, the ironic part is that the private school didn’t tolerate his sort of personality or sideline behavior, and he found himself very quickly banned from attending games that fall season.
I overheard him yelling at my mother about how they told him he wasn’t a good representation of the school.
That he had been warned about the long-arm perception and reputation extended to the parents, which he failed.
I never told anyone, but that was the best day of my childhood life.
I loved my dad, but I hated how he talked to referees, coaches, and other parents at the games.
I didn’t understand why he was like that either.
My mother said he wasn’t always that way, but that’s the only way that I’ve known, and it was after he was finally gone from the school that things started to change.
Being an athlete, I’d never had a problem making friends.
I’d been on a team since I was four years old, and when you’re bigger, stronger, and can run faster than anyone else, people automatically gravitate your way, except for that year.
It had to have been his behavior on the sidelines, or maybe it was just me.
I’m not sure, but at the start of that year, those kids kept a wide berth from me—that is, all of them but Alice.
Granted, Alice didn’t have a choice. Monarch sits next to Monroe.
She took one look at me as we sat in our assigned seats in our advisory class, and said, “You must be a scholarship kid.”
I remember shock reverberated through me. How could she tell? I looked down at my clothes and my shoes. We were wearing uniforms, and they looked like everyone else’s, but somehow, after being here for five minutes, she knew I was different, and my heart sank low into my stomach.
“You got a problem with that?” I snapped, trying to ignore how pretty she was. Clearly, she was not a scholarship kid. She looked like she belonged here just by the way she stood.
“Nope,” she said, and then proceeded to gracefully sit down in the chair next to me. “It’s your size, by the way. We’re in middle school now, and this is about the time they start looking for athletes to stack the sports program.”
I gave her a side-eye as she settled into her seat. “How do you know this?”
“My dad is new on the school board. I overheard him talking, and they were speaking about you.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure how I felt knowing people had been talking about me.
Usually, it was because of my father, and usually, it was never good.
Also, even I know middle school is kind of young to start looking for high school sports players.
There’s no guarantee someone will grow. Then again, I was already five foot ten.
Assuming I only grew a couple more inches, I would still cross six feet.
“Don’t worry, no one here cares,” she says as she smooths down the skirt of her uniform and then runs her hand over her long, dark ponytail.
“Then why did you ask?”
She turned to face me. “Because I don’t like to assume anything. I like to know.”
Her face was round, her skin was smooth, and her lips were shiny with some kind of gloss, but it was her eyes that struck me.
Brown, like mine, only hers were large and dark and framed by perfect eyelashes.
They reminded me of my mother’s coffee, and she loved her coffee.
Does this girl like coffee too? And even though they’re dark, it wasn’t a bad thing like they’re cold and strange, but more warm and inviting. Like the coffee.
“Whatever.” I sat back and crossed my arms, trying not to show that she affected me. I would soon come to learn that Alice loved to ask questions. It was part of her personality, and she asked more questions than anyone I had ever met.
The next day, she sat down next to me again and opened her backpack. She pulled out a clear plastic bag filled with purple-and-teal rock candy and handed it to me.
“What’s this for?” I asked.
“I made it for you. I hope you like blue raspberry and grape.” She smiled at me, and it made something in my chest feel weird.
“Why?” I asked as I took the bag.
“Because we’re going to be best friends,” she declared.
I’m not sure what struck me more. The fact that she thought about me enough when she went home to make this, or the fact that I’d never really had a friend who was a girl before. But I didn’t hate the idea.
For seven years, Alice and football were my whole world.
We were as thick as thieves.
I was so happy, and with Alice, most of my favorite memories were made at the lake. The lake my family lived on before the divorce, and the lake where Alice and I made our escape from the world afterward.
Our lake.
Which is why I always knew, if I ever ended up back in Tampa, I would be buying a home here on White Egret Lake. It completes the full-circle dream. Make it to the NFL, buy the dream home. And if I end up being traded, that’s okay. I’ll still have my house in a place that I love.
When most people think of Tampa, they think of the bay, palm trees, and the beaches, but for me, it’s the lakes.
Drive ten to fifteen minutes north of the football stadium, and it’s like living in a whole different city.
Lakes, oaks, and pines blanket the area, creating that old Florida feel, and on hot summer days, nothing is better than taking off down my dock and diving in.
Do I worry about alligators? Nah, this is a ski lake, and if there are any, they stick to the banks with tall grass.
I’ve just finished sanding down the glossy finish of the last of my kitchen cabinets in my garage when I hear a car pull up the driveway. Wiping my hands on my shorts, I make my way out into the sun to see who it is.
Camden.
While I still drive the same truck I’ve had since I was fifteen, Camden drives a top-of-the-line Range Rover. Yes, he’s been in the league for a few years and has a nice contract, but he also comes from a wealthy family, and I’m certain he has plenty of money from them to set him up.
“My sister is getting married,” he states as he gets out of the sports utility vehicle and slams the door. No hello, no how’s it going, no I hope you don’t mind that I’m stopping by, just straight to the point.
But even with the lack of heads-up, I’m not surprised he’s here. I caught him giving me a curious look a couple of times this morning at practice.
I first met Camden when the team brought me in as a potential prospect.
Each team is allowed to bring in up to thirty players to tour the facilities, meet with different teammates, interview with the coaches, and perform a physical.
Camden was one of those players, and we instantly hit it off.
Even though he’s offense and I’m defense, we spend a surprising amount of time together lined up across from each other on the field.
“She is? When?” I ask, pulling a standard-issue white football towel from the back of my shorts to wipe the sweat off my face.
“Labor Day weekend. And for whatever reason, she’s decided she wants to live in my house until then. I love her, but it’s loud, and there are always people over.”
“That’s in like a month and a half.”
“I know,” he deadpans as we both walk into the garage to get out of the sun.
Camden doesn’t talk much about his personal life, but when he does, it’s about his sister. From what I gather, the two of them are close, and he’s very protective of her.
“Where’s the wedding? She does realize that the season has started, right?
” I reach into the garage refrigerator and grab us both a water.
Some of the guys on the team are less strict when it comes to diet during the season.
Camden is not one of them. He rarely drinks anything other than water, and if he is, it’s only to be polite.
I never need to worry about having his favorite beer stocked.
“Yes. Apparently, she thought enough to check the schedule.” He lets out a sigh. “The Don CeSar on St. Pete Beach. She wanted to keep it close, and there was a last-minute cancellation that she slid into. This way it’s drivable.”
“That was nice of her,” I tell him, taking a swig, and in return, he cuts me a dry look.
“She shouldn’t be marrying this guy. He’s not right for her.”