Page 1 of Draft Pick
PROLOGUE
CREW
There’sa special place in hell for psychologists like Dr. Mayweather.
I’m talking, there’s a piece of broken-down patio furniture—sans cushion—shoved in the corner of an abandoned house taken over by rats with his name on it.
That could be me just being an unapologetic extremist.
Or maybe we can call it a corrupted school district. Not that I truly believe the Atlanta district is tainted, but if I’m labeling it based on my current feelings, I’m not a fan.
Mrs. Sheffield, however? I can handle her. Her soft and kind demeanor shows me she means well and was likely forced here by the principal. My eyes follow the way her fingertips tap against the surface of the conference room table nervously.
As for the guy with a doctorate degree, he reeks of confidence. And not the good kind. He thinks saying too much will reassure you as a parent, not make you want to storm out of here and slam the door in his face. That’s where I’m at.
You’d think for a man with the same last name as Ford fucking Mayweather, he’d have an ounce of sauce in him. Maybe my negative mindset stems from travel exhaustion. Or maybe it’s because I’m tired in other ways. Tired of trying like hell tobe my daughter’s biggest advocate and constantly being told she isn’t performing well enough.
Watching her struggle feels like stabbing myself in the leg.
“Mr. Briggs, we’re at a bit of a crossroads here. We know kindergarten is more of a foundational year, but Adeline continues to show regression that has us concerned about her ability to perform in first grade. Although this doesn’t warrant retention quite yet, it also doesn’t completely weigh out that option next year if we can’t get her to grade level.”
Okay.I understand that, but she’s five. Do they really expect a five-year-old to not struggle their first year in grade school? It’s hard enough to explain the concept of time. Dr. Mayweather must see the conflict on my face because he continues to attempt solace.
He’s wasting his breath.
“Mrs. Sheffield and I are working together to make sure Adeline is set up for success. It’s evident she loves learning, and our hope is that the tools we put into place for her moving forward will only improve her focus and mastery.”
I’m listening and understanding, but my conversation with Addie this morning pops into my head as if she subconsciously knew I needed the reminder. “You’re the bestest daddy in the whole wide world,” her sweet little voice whispered in my ear as we snuggled on the couch watchingThe Little Mermaidfor the ten thousandth time. I can recite King Triton’s lines in my sleep at this point. “And you’re my favorite girl in the whole wide world. Nothing will ever change that,” I told her.
It was hardly 6 a.m. before I heard her quick feet trotting down the staircase and finding me in the kitchen, half her collection of stuffed animals tucked safely under her arms. I set my alarm for five when I’m not traveling for work—my attempt at an hour or so to myself before starting the day. Not that I don’t adore my daughter and enjoy her company, but traveling duringbaseball season, while also being a father, doesn’t exactly free up much time for me to think in my own space. No time to clear my head and reset my thoughts for whatever the day holds.
I had just made my second cup of coffee before Addie woke up, immediately insisting we snuggle and watch TV before it was time to get ready for school. No father could ever say no to that.
After requesting I give her three different kinds of cereal all mixed together in one bowl, I folded her under my arm and watched Ariel fall in love with Prince Eric.
“Do you think you’ll ever find your Ariel, Daddy?” Addie whispered, eyes tuned into the way the magical characters gaze at each other across the canoe. My heart stopped in my chest. She’s never once asked me something so intentional before. Like she couldn’t help but imagine Prince Eric was me—deliriously in love, without a care in the world.
Addie’s heart has so much room for love. It’s a beautiful thing to witness as she gets older. I hope she stays this way forever.
“I’m not sure,” I whispered closely. “But I hope so. Is that something you’d like?”
She nodded quickly, her head falling to my shoulder while chomps of Fruit Loops resounded between us. “You’re my prince,” she said, tattooing my lonely soul. “But sometimes you look sad, and I don’t like it when you’re sad, Daddy.”
I make it my daily mission to raise Addie in a positive and uplifting home. But I’m only human, and sometimes hiding how alone I truly feel becomes more difficult than I realized. But fuck, I hate that she’s noticed.
I kissed her forehead. “Don’t you worry about me, Doodle. How could I ever be sad when I’ve got you?”
“That’s cause I’m so smart! Mrs. Sheffield said my brain is so big and has knowledge. I don’t even know what that means. Do I have a big brain, Daddy?”
“Only because you’re a genius. The smartest girl I know.” I tapped her little noggin. “I bet you’ve got so much smart knowledge up there that someday you’ll be a doctor. Or maybe even a scientist.”
“Or a dentist!” she shouted.
“You, my sweet girl, can be anything you want to be. And I promise to help make it happen.”
I needed those words from her today. Her unwavering love is crucial for my ability to fight for her right to learn the way she needs to. To advocate for her space in this world, where kids who learn like my daughter aren’t accepted.
Addie is hands-on. She thrives off demonstration and being taught in a way thatshowsher how to do something, rather than telling her. That was something I realized about her at a very young age.
