The Falling of Stars: A Psychological Thriller by Traci Finlay

Author:Traci Finlay [Finlay, Traci]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: psychological thriller
Publisher: Traci Finlay
Published: 2019-09-02T18:30:00+00:00

I steer clear of Javier during practice that afternoon. I see him eyeing me, and I walk away whenever he tries to approach. I know he’s gonna apologize, but I don’t want to hear it. Or his jokes about my mom. Wherever she is.

Practice sucked for everyone. Coach Jay kept screaming that we have a game tomorrow and we need to wake the frick up, but when the D-line kept breaking through and sacking me, I was praying for him to yell at me so I could throw the ball in his face and quit. Only he screamed at the O-line and told them I can’t carry this team by myself. He even yelled at Javier to stop showing off and run up the sideline instead of trying to impress the safety by juking him. That made me feel a little better.

Now practice is over and I’ve locked myself in the shower again, wondering how I’m gonna get home because I’m grounded from my car and I fucking hate Javier. God knows how many minutes have gone by when I finally turn the shower off and step out, and sure enough, Javi’s sitting there. Goddammit.

He stands as I wrap my towel around my waist. “Look, man. I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize how bad you’re going through shit right now. I messed up, and I’m sorry.”

“Can I borrow your phone?”

He pulls it from his pocket and hands it to me. I dial my mom’s number. She doesn’t answer. Then my dad’s. He doesn’t answer, either. I shove the phone back toward him, biting my cheek to keep from crying.

“You ready to ride home?” he asks.

“Naw. I’m good.”

“You sure?” he asks, alarmed. He knows he’s been my ride for the last few days and is supposed to be for the next week.

“I’m good,” I say a little more firmly.

Javi throws his arms out and lets them fall to his sides. “Malik, please. Your parents didn’t answer just now. How are you gonna get home, man?”

“I got this.” I slip into my shorts and shirt, tossing my towel in my bag.

Javier grabs the back of his head. “All right, if you say so. Let me know if you need anything, brother. Let’s kick some Bulldog ass tomorrow, a’ight?” Then he sticks his fist out for me to fist-bump it.

I do.

I don’t know how the hell I’m getting home. There are still a few people on campus for whatever reason—cheerleading practice, varsity football, afterschool clubs—I’m sure I can find someone to drop me off. I head back into Lafayette Hall, upstairs to my locker in the mezzanine. Maybe there’s someone there I can bum a ride off of. But the mezzanine’s empty. I decide to go down to the office and use the phone to blow my parents’ phones up.

I’m heading toward the stairs when I hear crying. I slow down to listen, because the voice sounds familiar. “I don’t know what to do. He hates me.”

Oh, god. It’s Creed. I know it.

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