Chapter Thirty-One Cameron #2
Eventually, he’s returned to his feet, and it’s so Darius and Ravi can empty our ice cooler over Coach Barnett’s head, causing him to shriek curses that send everyone within earshot into a laughing frenzy.
Even Mason nearly sinks to his knees, clutching his stomach, tears sparkling in his lashes.
His unrestrained, unapologetic mirth makes my chest ache with happiness.
“You’re beautiful, Mason Gray,” I whisper.
He doesn’t hear me.
But I’ll make sure he gets the message later.
—
“Can I talk to you guys about something?”
Dad pauses, his forkful of garlicky chicken Alfredo hovering an inch from his lips. “Depends,” he says. “Will it make me want to kill you and then myself?”
I look at Mom in utter dismay. She betrays me by shrugging.
“I’m serious!” I choke out.
“So am I.”
“Nico,” Mom says, finally shooting the man a stern glare that makes him sigh and lower his fork to his plate. She gestures at me to proceed, and she’s got this glint in her eye that makes me wonder if she expects I’m going to tell her bad news.
And it is. Sort of. I’m not sure how they’re going to take this.
If it’s even fair for me to say any of this, after all they’ve done for me.
I’ve been avoiding the subject for a while and probably would’ve continued to do so if Mason hadn’t promised me he’d paint me a custom picture of anything I want after I talk to them.
I know exactly what I want and exactly where I’m going to hang it on my wall.
To be honest, I’m surprised my parents haven’t brought it up themselves.
I guess they probably assume I’m fully set on doing what I’ve been planning, and haven’t thought to interrogate me about it, aside from offering me encouraging quips about how well I played this season and how I make a great leader, even if I wasn’t the team captain.
“So, the football thing.” I stab awkwardly at the slab of chicken on my plate, glad I have something to look at while they pour their gazes into my face. “You know that scout from Alpine University has been out to examine me. And I think if he wants to recruit me…”
My fingers tighten around my fork.
“I might turn it down.”
My parents are quiet. Waiting.
“I know it would be really beneficial financially, but I…” I pause again, the words clogging up my throat.
I have to cough several times just to spit the rest out.
“I don’t think that’s what I want. Football is fun, but that’s just it.
I want it to stay fun. I want it to be something I can escape to.
I don’t want it to completely eat away my life.
I don’t want to make a career out of it. ”
They don’t respond. Part of me wants to sink under the table so I can’t feel their eyes, but I keep steady, knowing I still haven’t explained myself enough.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, a familiar stinging surfacing in my eyes.
“I know things have been tough since we moved. I know taking a position like that is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that hardly anyone will ever get to experience. I know it could keep us from sinking into more debt. I know that turning it down is selfish. So. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll find another way to—”
“Cameron.”
Mom’s voice is gentle. It draws my gaze up to hers, and I’m startled to see that she’s smiling weakly, her own eyes glazed with tears.
“Sweetheart,” she whispers, “you have never owed us for anything.”
My mom always has this way of luring the latent tears down the rest of my face. “But it’s my fault we had to move,” I croak, snatching my napkin so I can dab the water away. “If I hadn’t been…If I had stood up for myself, I…”
“Cameron Morelli,” Dad says, more stern than normal, and it worsens the flow I’ve been trying to stem.
“Our decision to move was based on several factors. We had been considering it for years, but it took a while to gather the funds for a down payment on a new place here in Elwood. You and your mother faced the worst of what that miserable little town had to offer.”
He folds his thick, hairy fingers together atop the table, pinning me with his stare. His level face is lessening the painful ringing of panic in my ears.
“Yes, we may have quickened our decision because of what we saw happening to you,” he continues.
“We may have moved before we were fully ready. That was our decision. Not just for you, but for all of us. It was the best choice we’ve ever made because suddenly, we were happy again.
The three of us. Things are good, Cameron. ”
He reaches across the table with his ridiculous wingspan and clutches my left fist, which has been lying there, clenched and white.
“You don’t owe us for that decision,” he murmurs. “It’s our job to provide a safe, loving, accepting environment for you. Seeing you smiling and making friends…that’s payment enough.”
My breath is haggard and my face is sopping wet. Mom also reaches out, settling her hand atop his and mine.
“We’re sorry if you ever felt pressured to do something you didn’t want to because of this,” she says softly.
“If you don’t want to play football in college, or if you only want to play on a rec team, or if you want to drop it altogether, we’ll support you.
All we have ever wanted is your happiness, Cammy.
Don’t factor money into what you want to do, okay? ”
Cam Morelli would’ve walked away from this conversation eons ago with a shudder of revulsion at his own weakness.
But I’m not him. I’m myself again. So I lunge onto my feet, skirt around the corner of the table, and fling myself into my parents’ arms, bursting into sobs that wave across my entire body.
I don’t know where I’ll be next fall, if I’ll be playing football, if I’ll choose to focus on other, new interests and hobbies. But it’ll be okay.
Because I don’t feel alone anymore.