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She kisses the top of my head. “No one knows, honey.”
CHAPTER 38
CONNOR
A hush comes over Chicago North.
The stadium is packed solid for the first game of the season, but the occasion isn’t nearly as exciting as it should be.
My grandfather only coached the Bearhawks for a season, but he left his mark. Before then, Chicago North University was a forgotten school in flyover country. But Cary Pierce changed that. After his season, people took notice. Northies reached higher and farther. Athletes from all over the country competed for a chance to be Northies. It all began with one retired football player’s willingness to take a chance on a bunch of losers.
If he hadn’t, my mother wouldn’t have met my father. I wouldn’t exist. An intriguing thought, honestly.
If I didn’t exist, then I wouldn’t have screwed things up so badly.
My father’s voice echoes through the silent locker room. It’s his first speech to the team as head coach, but I’ve barely heard a word. It’s a variation on everything I’ve heard before, anyway.
The start of a new chapter.
He always wanted to give back.
Once a Northie, always a Northie.
“Tonight, we honor a legend,” he says. “Cary Pierce was going to be here tonight. He told me himself just a few days ago. He said he was proud of me. He had a front-row seat to the start of my career… and now he was going to see the start of my son’s, too.”
I hear the shift of cleats and elbow pads as bodies turn in my direction. Still in my T-shirt and jeans, I don’t look up from the bench in front of my locker. Jefferson and Coach Thomas unilaterally elected me the first alternate quarterback for this game. If something happens to Jefferson, then I’m in.
It’s what I wanted, right? One step closer to being starting quarterback.
But I can’t bring myself to suit up. Not tonight.
“Win or lose, I know we’ll make him proud,” my father continues. “Cary loved this game. He loved this team. He loved watching us get better, and I do say us. I was one of you. I’m still one of you. And tonight, we take that field together.”
That last bit inspires a round of grunts and hollers throughout the room. I get it. He’s Junior Morgan. Some of them came to Chicago North just hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Now, they’re within touching distance.
Dad finishes up with another loud round of cheers, and my teammates begin the short trek outside and up the ramp to the field. I look up at Alex and Ben standing at the lockers across from mine. I don’t expect to meet their eyes. They haven’t spoken to me since yesterday.
Since they punched me in the face.
I stand up. “Alex, Ben, hold on.”
They pause. Their shoulder pads brush as they turn, standing in a way that makes them exact mirrors of each other.
“Look, I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have?—”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” Alex faces me head on. “You really fucking shouldn’t have, Connor. We had an agreement.”
“She came to me, okay?” It sounds more desperate than I intend, but I guess that’s what I am. Desperate. “As a friend. She needed someone she could trust to?—”
“Save it. We don’t care.”
“What can I do to make this right?” I ask. “I’ll do anything. Just name it.”
Alex glances at Ben, who merely glances right back.
“Is it over?” Ben asks.
“Is what over?”
