Page 30 of The Golden Receiver

It felt like it took hours for everyone to leave the locker room. Wes clapped me on the shoulder as he passed and gave me a sympathetic look. A few other people did too. When I stole a glance at Kieran, I noticed that no one showed him the same courtesy. Maybe they’d noticed the same things I had. Maybe they had also picked up on his missed blocks and his selfish playing. Or maybe it was just that Kieran didn’t have any friends on the team, because he hadn’t tried. That would make it hard for anyone to feel sympathetic about his poor performance.

Soon, the locker room was empty except for me, Kieran, Coach Shaw, and Coach Erikkson.

“Office,” Coach Erikkson instructed.

I nodded and started across the locker room to the coaches’ office. I’d only been in there a few times, but never under these circumstances. I’d never thought I’d ever be in there because I’d gotten in trouble. I felt like I was being sent to the principal’s office.

Coach Shaw took a seat behind the desk, and Coach Erikkson stood behind him like some kind of ghoul. Which made sense, given that he was a ghoul. I took a seat in one of the chairs on the other side of the desk. For once, I hoped that Kieran stayed across the room and didn’t come anywhere near me. Unfortunately, just like every time I wanted Kieran to do something, he did the opposite. He sat down right next to me. His smell was completely overwhelming, mostly because it had that musky scent that he got after a good workout. I knew he’d showered, but it was still there. Just lingering.

And I was not going to be thinking about that right now. Nope. Absolutely not. I was mad at him. The incredible way he smelled was not going to change that.

“So,” Coach Shaw began, “who wants to start?”

“Start?” Kieran asked. His voice sounded different when he was talking to Coach Shaw. He didn’t sound as annoyed.

“Explaining,” Coach Shaw elaborated. Kieran had a blank look on his face, and I didn’t know what my face looked like, but it was enough that Coach Shaw and Coach Erikkson both sighed in unison. “Can either of you explain what the hell happened out there? Neither one of you are bad players, but you couldn’t tell from that performance. I felt like I was watching a pair of JV guys fresh out of puberty, not elite college athletes. Sure as hell not the future of the Creelin receiving core.” His voice grew louder with every word. I could feel the anger coming off him.

“It was just a bad game,” Kieran told him plainly. “I missed a block on that first possess⁠—”

“Missed?” I scoffed. “More like you decided not to block so I’d get knocked on my ass.”

Kieran turned to face me so fast that I thought he’d been possessed by something. There was no way a human should be able to turn their head that fast without snapping their neck. “What the fuck are you accusing me of?” he demanded.

“I saw you.”

“You didn’t see jack⁠—”

“Enough.” Coach Erikkson’s voice was quiet, but it held the kind of power that made us both stop immediately. My mouth slammed shut. I crossed my arms over my chest. “Those are serious accusations, and I understand how you may feel that way after a bad tackle. I would like to think that no one on this team would be such a poor sport.”

Great. I had been a poor sport.

“I wouldn’t,” Kieran told him. He didn’t sound or smell anxious. In fact, he sounded like he was telling the truth.

Great. I’d blown my first game as a starter, because I’d been playing selfishly. Because I thought someone else was playing selfishly and sank down to his level. Had it all been in my head? “I’m sorry, Coach,” I said quietly, looking between both of our coaches.

“Do better next week, or else you may find yourself sitting on the bench while your teammates get the opportunity to start,” Coach Shaw warned. “And be prepared to have your asses worked off next week. That was unacceptable. I don’t care about the reason behind it. I don’t care if you thought the other one was sabotaging you. Football is a team sport. Act like it.”

“Dismissed,” Coach Erikkson said, ending the conversation.

I walked back to Karloff Hall alone. I didn’t know where Kieran went. If I had to put money on it, I’d bet that he was probably just as ashamed as how we’d played as I was. And knowing Kieran, he was probably having a temper tantrum somewhere. For once, I wasn’t even curious about where he had gone off to. I had enough on my plate.

When I got back to the dorm, no one was in the common area. Preston wasn’t sitting in his chair with a book and his highlighters. Ryan and Benny weren’t playing video games on the couch. I didn’t hear any noises coming from their room. Maybe they were celebrating the team’s win at some party somewhere. Maybe they were out with other friends. I didn’t know, and I didn’t really care. All I cared about was going to my room and moping.

Unfortunately, moping was a very passive activity. I got tired of it after about five minutes.

Then I moved onto stewing. Stewing was a lot more active, at least for my brain. It required me to really think things over with the game we’d just played. And after I played it all over in my head a few times, I came to a terrible realization: I’d blown it.

The odds of Kieran missing a tackle to make me look bad were slim. It would make him look bad too because blocking was important. Everything else that happened during the game could be explained by a bad game. Except what I’d done. I could have sped up and made that block on the second play. I could have called for the ball or blocked the defender so he could get it. I could have done so many things differently to make the game better.

And I really could have done without accusing him in front of the coaches like a spoiled brat.

Stewing was not my friend. Stewing was making me realize that there had been a bad guy in the game, and it was me. I had to make it right. I reached over to grab my phone from the shelf beside my bed. Before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled up mine and Kieran’s text thread.

Evander

Sorry.

There. One simple word. I apologized.