Mercy Rule by Tom Leveen

Author:Tom Leveen [Leveen, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781510727014
Publisher: Sky Pony Press
Published: 2018-02-15T05:00:00+00:00

BRADY

Pay for my Trenta iced mocha and two muffins with Coach’s scratched-up gold Starbucks card. Donte gets a Venti mocha frap and a croissant. I call him a pussy.

Most everyone is gone by the time we roll back up to school with Coach’s tall coffee. People are rushing to get off campus. I wonder what that feels like. To be in a hurry to get home.

Walk to Coach’s office and hand over his coffee. He says, “Didn’t you guys get anything?”

Me and Donte grin. Our stuff didn’t last the ride. Coach laughs. Says, “All right, get dressed out, we got a short day.”

We start to go. Coach says, “Brady.”

I stop. Donte keeps walking. Coach has this voice that he can use. We all know what it means: sit down and shut up.

I sit across from him.

“You wanna tell me what you did to your hands, chief?”

Shit. He didn’t say anything before we left to get the coffee. Thought he hadn’t noticed. Or didn’t worry about it.

“Accident,” I say.

“Oh,” Coach says. “All right. You know anything about what happened to the lockers? Looks like they’ve been beat to hell.”

I stare at my bandages.

“Look a man in the eye, son.”

I lift my chin. Look him in the eye.

“Anything I need to know?”

“Naw,” I say. Then I say, “No, sir.”

“We got a hard game coming up. Can I put you in?”

I flex my hands. They ache, but not bad. I make tight fists.

“Yes, sir.”

“All right. Get dressed out.”

I stand up.

“Hey, you got my card?”

“Oh, yeah.” I reach for my back pocket and pull it out. The gold plastic shimmers under the fluorescents.

Coach waves a hand. “Hang on to it for me.”

I stand there.

“It automatically reloads when there’s less than ten bucks on it,” Coach says. He shuffles through some papers on his desk. “You can just, you know … use it for whatever. Give it back to me at the end of the year. When you graduate.”

I clench my teeth hard enough to bust a football between them.

Charity. It’s charity. Coach knows it. I know it. I bet everyone knows it.

No. Wait. Coach don’t go around talking about his players. Not to anyone. My secrets are still safe. Except for Donte. But Donte’s not talking. No way.

Just take it, I tell myself. Don’t tie up your panties. Just take it.

“Cool,” I say to Coach. Coach only nods. Guess we have an understanding.

“One more thing,” Coach says when I reach the doorway. “I want you to come over for dinner next week. Week from Thursday. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“All right. We’ll see you then. Now get the hell out of here, we gotta practice.”

I get the hell outta there. Stow the card in my locker for after practice. I’ll need it.

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