The Coach's Boy (Straight Guys Series Vol. 3) by Dale Dia

Author:Dale, Dia [Dale, Dia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-09-26T00:00:00+00:00

8

I bounced the ball once, then faked like I would take a shot. Casey jumped up to block me, but I waited a half second before launching into my real shot. The ball flew through the air unhindered, but hit the rim and bounced to the ground. Casey ran after it so we could start again.

I loved days like this, when Casey and I had free time at the same time between classes and could just throw a ball around for fun. No pressure, no egos, just two friends on the court.

“I can’t believe Wally gets away with that,” she said, throwing me the ball.

“It’s not just me,” I said, “he treats everyone like that. He’s a total prima donna .”

“We don’t have that problem on the women’s team,” she said. “Our coach rides us pretty hard, but we’re cohesive. We wouldn’t dream of hurting each other. That just sounds toxic.”

Casey reached out and stole the ball from me, dribbled to the edge of our half-court game, spun, and shot. She was used to playing with a slightly smaller ball, but it didn’t seem to faze her. She shot a perfect basket anyway.

“Wally has talent,” I said. “He’s the most proficient on the court, at everything other than being a normal human. And if he doesn’t perform at our next game, Coach Kellan is out of a job. It’s as simple as that. For the time being, we need him.”

I stopped dribbling and held the ball against my chest. “I think I’m going to head home before practice tonight, get some homework in since I’m done with class for the day.”

“Okay,” Casey said. “I’d walk you to the bus stop, but I have class in twenty. See you later, Brad.”

The bus ride home was long, and it gave me a chance to catch up on some of my reading. When I got to the front door, it was already open.

My radar went up. I pushed the door slowly, not sure whether I should call out for Alana and my dad, or keep quiet in case of an intruder.

I stepped over a puddle on the floor and traced it with my eyes back to its source: a bottle of whiskey on the floor. The whole room smelled of it. I scanned the rest of the room and saw that the china cabinet was on its side. Broken glass and ceramic shards covered the floor.

It looked like my dad was the problem, again.

“Alana?” I called out. She started to run down the steps, but I told her to stop.

“Go put some shoes on, okay? It’s not safe to walk barefoot right now.”

She headed back upstairs as my father stepped in through the front door.

“What happened here?” I asked. His balance was unsteady. He held a shovel in his hands.

“The damn furniture was uneven,” he said. “Every time I stamped my foot, the dishes rattled. Drove me fucking crazy, so I tipped it up. To put a towel under it. But the fucker fell over.

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