Starlee's Turn (The Wayward Sons 2) - Page 54
“Yeah?” He doesn’t look up.
“That was weird how Dad showed up the other night, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I mean, he’s not on our emergency forms. How did he know?” His pencil pauses but he still keeps his eyes focused. “Dude. What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” he says, eyes flashing over the top of his book. I glare at him. “Fine. Look, I didn’t do anything, but I guess he read my name in the paper and found out I’m on the football team. He’s been coming to the games.”
“He’s been at the games?” So have I. I haven’t seen him once.
“You know he’s into sports and stuff. I think he got excited and wanted to see me play. He didn’t realize I’m mostly a benchwarmer.”
“That doesn’t explain him showing up at the hospital.”
“I’m pretty sure he talked to the coach. You know Coach Bradford went to Academy. They probably know one another. I’m guessing he called him.”
We sit in silence for a minute. I’m not sure how to process all of this. George kept this from me—we didn’t have secrets, did we?
“Look, Charlie, I wasn’t trying to hide anything. The whole thing just made me uncomfortable. Like…he was only interested in me because he thought I was doing something he likes. It’s not like he’s coming to an art show or anything or asked me about my work.”
I see the logic in that. Dad never approved of anything George did.
“And to be honest, I didn’t want to drag you into the middle of all this. What if he started showing up and things went to hell again.” His jaw tenses. “You know it’s likely.”
“It is,” I agree. I don’t know how to say what I’m feeling though. That
dad came all the way out to see George but has made no effort to talk to me. Me. I’m the kid that he didn’t hate, although I’m the one that chose to leave. I’d picked my brother over him. “He was super pissed the other night.”
“Yeah, I heard,” he says. “Thanks for not letting him barge in there.”
I nod. “Will you let me know if he comes around again?”
“If you want. I really wasn’t trying to hide anything, I was just…”
“Trying to protect me. I get it.” I give him a small smile. “Thank you, but being in the dark with stuff like this isn’t really helping anything.”
I don’t tell him about the anxiety I’ve been feeling. Something about Starlee leaving over the summer messed me up. The idea of change terrifies me.
He reaches out and we tap fists, the closest we get to a hug.
“When’s your tournament,” he asks, changing the subject.
“Not for a few months.”
“Dude, that’s plenty of time.”
At any other time, I would have agreed. Absolutely. But now? Not so much. “I hope so.”
“Hope? That doesn’t sound like a very Charlie thing to say.” He eyes me skeptically.
I shrug. “I’ve been distracted, I guess.”
“Because of me?”
“And other things.” I glance at him. He knows. He feels it, too.
“Yeah I get that. Other ’things’ are totally distractible.” He holds up his sketch pad. “I’m really behind on my last two portfolio pieces. There’s a distraction in my independent study.”
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