FRANKIE WATCHED VINCE CARTER throw an unsteady spiral to a talented running back who didn’t have a chance in hell of catching the crappy toss. Vince still had a hell of a lot to learn.
Of course, the trick there was that Vince had to be willing to learn. Frankie’s father had suggested Frankie work with Vince, since their families went to the same church. Okay, it was less of a suggestion and more of an order, but Frankie had gone along with it because Vince did have talent, and Frankie liked the idea of training the guy who would eventually replace him once he graduated. It was just too bad Vince was a pain in the ass and believed that he was better than everyone else—including Frankie—and had no problems telling people so. The kid didn’t think he had to put in the work to reap success. Not like that girl, Cassandra. Even if she had a stick up her butt about talking to him, Frankie admired her sitting alone in that claustrophobically small room, practicing her ass off to be better than everyone else at the one thing she was passionate about.
Vince didn’t think he had to earn jack. He just wanted Frankie to get out of the way so he could have his position.
Yeah—not if Frankie had anything to say about it.
Frankie stepped away from the building and waved at Ian Morgan, then slipped back into the shadows as Ian grabbed a ball and trotted over to one of the receivers watching the first-string squad run plays. The second-string receiver ran down the sidelines as Ian cocked his arm back and let the football fly.
The spiral was tight. Just the way the two of them had practiced this summer. Frankie had been surprised the day the sophomore rang Frankie’s doorbell to ask for help with his form. But Frankie had been impressed on that first practice session. Ian never once said the words “I can’t,” no matter how hard the challenge Frankie gave him.
That’s what Frankie’s father always told him that winners did. They kept their eye on the prize and did whatever it took to reach it.
Ian’s throw was a perfect bull’s-eye—hit the receiver chest-level.
And Coach Anderson noticed.
Frankie leaned back against the wall and watched as Coach blew his whistle and started screaming about teamwork and keeping focused on the drills. He shook his finger at Ian and stalked around in a way that was probably supposed to be menacing but, in Frankie’s opinion, made the coach look as if he needed to pee.
Finally, Ian jogged back to the sidelines, his eyes firmly on the ground in front of him. The kid must have really gotten his ass well and thoroughly chewed. He’d have to get used to it, because winners never just got patted on the back. Once they cleared the bar set for them, the bar was always raised and people screamed until you got over that one too. Once you were a winner, you had to stay the winner they expected you to be.
Frankie waited for Coach to blow the whistle. When it came, he wasn’t surprised to hear Coach yell for Vince to get some water and for Ian to run the next play.
Frankie watched Ian take the field. Ian struggled to get his helmet on. It wasn’t easy to act cool when you knew every eye was on you . . . counting on you . . . waiting for you alone to give them something to cheer about. Frankie had had to learn to be calm under pressure—even when he felt like he was about to blow.
Ian called for the snap. Despite how nervous he was, their hours of practice this summer paid off. Ian backpedaled and waited before launching the ball downfield.
Touchdown city, baby.
With a smile, Frankie got up and walked back toward the locker room.
“Frankie.”
Everything inside him tensed as he spotted Tad coming toward him. The eyes that Frankie had found mysterious and intriguing were narrowed as Tad zeroed in on him.
Frankie glanced behind him toward the JV practice. Coach was still barking out plays. Ian and the rest of the guys were sweating in the sun, but Vince seemed to be looking this way. Damn it.
“You’re not supposed to be here, Tad,” Frankie said. “Didn’t you get the text telling you not to come to school?”
Tad stopped walking. He folded his arms over his deep blue T-shirt and studied Frankie. “As captain, you get to tell the team what to do to get ready for the game and you can push us on the field. But if you want to tell me how you think I should live my life, you’ll have to do it yourself. Not through Jimmy.”
“It’s the same text everyone got,” Frankie said, taking another look over his shoulder. “We shouldn’t talk about this here.”
Frankie started to move toward the door, but Tad stepped into his path. There was a reason the guy was one of the best receivers around. He was fast and could usually shake the guy defending him. Great on the field. Not so great when Frankie was the one trying to do the shaking.
“Then where?” Tad asked. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’ve been busy. And I’m sorry if you’re upset, but I don’t want to have this conversation here. If Coach sees—”
“I don’t care what Coach sees. I—”
“You should.” Frankie grabbed Tad’s arm. “If you don’t want Coach benching you, you should go to the lake with the others. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Because you’re here?” Tad yanked his arm out of Frankie’s grip. “And you don’t want people to see us together.”
“No.” Maybe. Hell. “This isn’t me talking as your friend. My dad says a good captain has to have his teammates’ back. Well, this is me, your captain, watching your back. I’m paying a visit to the JV’s locker room, and I don’t want you here, or people will think you’re involved.” When Tad cocked his head to the side, Frankie added, “Meet the team at Jimmy’s. Go to the lake and get the hell away from here before you ruin everything.”
“How do I know these top-secret plans aren’t just your way of getting rid of me?”
“You don’t.”
Tad smiled. “Fine. You want me to go hang out at the lake. Sure. I’ll do that.”
Frankie let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Good. Jimmy will—”
“I’ll do it, but only if you meet me in Mr. Lott’s room in ten minutes.”
Tad wanted to meet him alone in a physics teacher’s classroom? The school was mostly empty and the second floor would be even emptier, but hell, no. “I get that you’re pissed at me, but you can’t stay here. Look, I’ll—”
“Ten minutes.” Tad’s deep brown eyes met Frankie’s. “Don’t ignore me this time.”
With that, Tad turned and walked back into the building, leaving Frankie to stare after him for a second before finally following him inside. Frankie squinted when he stepped into the hallway. The lights were on, but after being in the sunlight, he found the hallway dim . . . and empty. Tad wasn’t there, and he wasn’t in the locker room, either, as Frankie discovered upon entering it. The locker room smelled of new white paint that couldn’t completely mask the odor of sweat that was so much a part of this place. Frankie checked his phone, then grabbed the bag he’d stashed there when he’d first arrived. Less than ten minutes until Tad wanted him to be upstairs. Twenty minutes until the team left for the lake. He wanted Tad to be with them. The two of them might not be on the same page right now, but he didn’t want Tad to get caught in what Frankie had planned.
He texted Jimmy to let him know Tad was running late.
WAIT FOR TAD AND WHOEVER ELSE IS RUNNING LATE. DON’T WAIT FOR ME. I GOT HUNG UP AND I’LL MEET YOU THERE.
Jimmy’s response beeped a few seconds later as Frankie was headed up to the second floor.
TELL MINDY I SAY HEY. WE’LL GET THE PARTY GOING FOR YOU.
SURE THING, Frankie texted back.
He was glad that Jimmy thought he’d ferreted out the reason Frankie was late. By the time Frankie arrived at the lake, the rumor that he and Mindy had been hooking up would be spreading like a wildfire, because it was what people expected from Frankie. It’s what he expected from himself.
Tad needed to back off. Frankie had to make his own choices, and he had decided he didn’t want to go down Tad’s path. He shouldn’t have even set foot down it in the first place. It was a mistake that no one ever needed to know about. If they ever did . . . if his father and Coach ever found out . . .
Frankie shook his head and ignored the way everything inside him churned as he made his way down the hall that led to the main section of the school. Tad could hang out in Mr. Lott’s room. Frankie had come to the school today with a mission, and he wasn’t going to let Tad distract him from it.
The second-floor hall was empty. Most kids and teachers had gone home by now to enjoy one of the last days of summer.
Steering clear of Mr. Lott’s room, Frankie hurried around the floor, getting things organized, then went back up the back staircase to the next level. Just two more things to do, and he was out of here. If Tad wanted to hang around—Frankie shook his head as he made his way to the front of the school. He’d warned him. If the guy didn’t listen, it wasn’t his fault. Right?
Crap. The place wasn’t completely empty yet. Diana Sanford stepped out of the girls’ bathroom, and Frankie ducked back around the corner as she turned his way. He hadn’t seen her since the Fourth of July. The night he had stopped by her father’s party and spotted her in the shadows with one of her father’s younger, but still way older than her, staff members. And the way she was looking at the guy . . . Yeah, was it any wonder that he decided it was best to cut and run? She might be the kind of girl his family thought he should date, but Frankie had never really been interested. If he hadn’t ditched that party, maybe things would be easier now. But there was no changing the past.
He peered around the corner in time to see Diana step into the yearbook office in the middle of the hallway. Damn. That meant Mrs. Kennedy was lurking somewhere nearby. The yearbook adviser had a thing about no one being allowed to work in the yearbook office if she wasn’t in the building—something Frankie learned last year when he had dropped by after one of the yearbook meetings and tried to see if he could get some sparks going with Diana once all the other students on the staff had gone home.
Now he had a decision to make. Wait for them to leave, or just get on with it.
He heard two voices shouting in a classroom near the staircase—Great . . . more people were up here—as his phone buzzed.
Tad was threatening him. Either come now, or he’d be sorry.
No can do, Tad, he thought. I told you that you should just leave.
Frankie adjusted the bag on his arm and pushed all thoughts of Tad to the side. It was time to finish what he’d started.