Bring Down the Stars

“It happens,” Coach said aloud, while his expression spoke, Me too.

I looked away from him to see Hayes casually walking over.

“Hey, man,” he said. “You okay?”

“All in a day’s work.”

“You tangled with the hurdle pretty fucking hard. I don’t know how you managed not to face-plant or snap a leg.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

Hayes looked at the sky with a disbelieving little laugh. “Okay, whatever, bro. I’m sorry you got hurt. I enjoyed kicking your ass in the two hundred and was looking forward to doing it again in the four-by-four.”

I swallowed the sharp comeback. What was the fucking point? I was only the Amherst Asshole when I was winning. Without my speed, I was…

I believe Sock Boy is the word you’re looking for.

After the meet, Connor, Ma and Paul came onto the field.

“My poor baby boy,” Ma said, holding out her arms to me. I bent to give her a hug and was enveloped in a cloud of cheap perfume. “Honey, what happened? I never seen you fall so hard.”

“It happens.”

“Hey, man,” Connor said, clapping my shoulder. “That looked fucking rough. Haven’t seen you take a digger like that since freshman year.”

“Thanks for noticing.”

“Let me see your hands,” Ma said. “Oh God, you’re a mess.” She looked up at Paul. “Every other day, he wins all his races. But of course, bring someone special to see my boy and he wipes out. But I’m glad you’re okay. That’s the most important thing, right? This is Paul. Paul Winfield. Paul, this is my son, Weston.”

“Good to meet you,” Paul said.

“Likewise,” I said.

“I’d shake your hand, but I don’t want to add insult to injury.”

I sized him up, trying to discern any signs he was a bum like all the rest of the guys Ma hung around with. Freeloaders who moved in to live rent free, eat her food and drink her beer while she worked at the hair salon.

Paul weathered my scrutiny with calm, smiling placidly under his mustache as he put his hands in the pockets of his khakis, rocking on his heels.

“Now, don’t you give him that look, Weston Jacob Turner,” Ma said, wagging her finger with its gold and pink acrylic curve. “Paul’s a good man and he’s good to me, so you just take that attitude and stuff it.” She gestured to Connor. “Why can’t you be more like this one? Mr. Handsome, always smiling.” She reached over and patted Connor’s cheek. He had his shades on, despite the cloud cover, and looked a little pale and a lot tired.

“You feel like eating, Wes?” Paul asked quietly. “Or maybe just sit and ice the knee?”

“Yes,” Ma answered. “Where are we going to lunch? Hannigan’s? I just love that little country bumpkin breakfast joint.”

Connor grinned. “Lunch at Hannigan’s then. On me.”

“Well, aren’t you the sweetest,” Ma said. “Sounds perfect.”

I studied my best friend. He called to where Ruby stood with Hayes. “Ruby. Lunch?”

“Love to,” she called back, but Hayes’s smile vanished as he and I exchanged glances. She conferred with him and then sighed. “Rain check, okay?”

“Definitely.” Connor turned to us and gestured across the field. “Shall we?”

We headed to the parking lot, my mother walking ahead with her arm linked in Paul’s, gabbling away, while Connor matched my slow limp.