Slytherin4ever: There you go again, being all vague and mysterious.
OD: I’m not trying to be. It just depends on the day, I guess. Every once in a while, opportunities present themselves, and I’m not against accepting them.
Slytherin4ever: Such as?
OD: Such as this season. I’ve been invited to an alumni banquet after Thanksgiving. It’s not a big deal, but I have a lot of pride in my school and the program and like to support it any way I can, even if they’re only using my face for publicity.
Slytherin4ever: That’s kind of cool, actually.
OD: Thanks. Glad I can get a fellow Slytherin’s stamp of approval.
Slytherin4ever: So, what happened then? After you had to say goodbye to the big-ass paychecks that would’ve come with a professional football career?
OD: Well…once that happened, the girl I’d knocked up decided she wasn’t interested in being a mom anymore and signed over her rights as a parent. Now, it’s just me and my kid.
I toss my phone up into the air, waiting for her to reply while hating how anxious I am to read her response after I basically just laid all my dirty secrets out to her on a silver platter. But there’s something…refreshing about opening up to someone. It’s already been aired out by a few interviews after Dawn tried to slander my name with a bunch of shit that didn’t happen, but being the one to air it out is different. Energizing, somehow.
Until Slytherin4ever doesn’t respond after thirty minutes.
Exhausted, I plug in my phone, set it to silent, then go to sleep.
5
Saylor
“Alright, guys!” I call out to the group of first-graders and their parents mingling on the grass. It’s getting a little cooler since it’s October. Some of them are wearing fleece jackets over their school pride T-shirts as their heads swivel in my direction. My brain is still pounding in tune to my heartbeat from too much wine last night, and I make a mental note to grab some more painkillers. Then I shield my eyes from the sun and dive right in.
“Thanks so much for being here today. Everyone’s really excited to get this party started, so let me give you a quick rundown of the plan, then we’ll dive right in. Line up at the white line on the pavement.” I point to it. “Follow the orange arrows on the poster boards that are on the side of the road, and if you have any questions, you can ask anyone in a purple volunteer shirt. It’s one big loop that will end….” My voice trails off as I scan the crowd and nearly trip over my feet.
Owen’s here. He’s next to Grady in a matching school pride T-shirt, and their hands entwined. Grady tugs on his dad’s hand, and Owen squats down. I can’t hear what Grady’s saying, but I follow his gaze to a very lonely Turner whose hands are tucked into the front pockets of his hand-me-down shorts.
With a nod, Owen and Grady weave their way toward Turner, then turn to me, which is when I realize they’re not the only ones.
Shit. What was I saying?
I clear my throat and scramble to recover from my epic slipup. “Um, the race is one big loop that will end where it began. Right here.” I point to the finish line, then clap my hands together. “Remember to have fun, cheer each other on, and be nice. And don’t forget that it doesn’t matter who wins! Just do your best. Everyone who finishes will get a special prize. Okay, guys! Let’s get started!”
Everyone lines up, following my directions before waiting for the race to begin.
“On the count of th
ree,” I announce. “One. Two. Three.”
Then they’re off.
Grady has dropped his dad’s hand and is pumping his little arms back and forth, running as fast as he can while Owen and Turner frame him on both sides, matching Grady’s explosive pace. Although, that seems a lot easier for Owen than it is for Turner.
When I realize I’m smiling, I blink hard and give them my back.
Keep it together, Saylor.
“Did you see what Grady’s dad did?” Mrs. Fawkes asks, sidling up beside me. “My ovaries are about to burst.”
“Yeah,” I hedge. “I saw it.”
“That was seriously the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. Does he know about Turner and his past?”
Kicking a pebble across the pavement, I tuck my hands into the front pockets of my Granite Elementary hoodie and mutter, “Yeah.”