Banned: Winchester Academy, Book 4 by Madison Faye

Author:Madison Faye [Faye, Madison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

11

Griffin

“You tell me, gentlemen! You fuckin’ tell me!”

My jaw tightens as Coach Stokes lays into us, the fury blazing in his eyes as he scowls at the three of us. The clenched jaw, the hands tightening to fists at my sides, my pulse beating like a war drum—none of it is anger directed at him. It’s at myself.

“I mean what the fuck have I been seeing out there? The fuck was that practice out there? Jesus H. Christ, Anders, we’ve done that play a million goddamn times! And Griff!

He turns his fury on me, and I grind my teeth as he narrows his eyes.

“I know you’re a bright kid, but you keep acting like a fuckin’ idiot out there and I might just start to get worried about repeat fucking head injuries.”

It’s a pat on the back wrapped in an insult. See, I know what most people see when they see me. Or at least, I know what they’re thinking as they high-five me and try and be my friend, considering I’m football royalty at Winchester.

They’re thinking “big dummy.” Or, something to that effect.

Let me tell you about being nineteen your senior year of high school, and a full eight months older than the second oldest student at the school. People make assumptions. They see how damn big I am, and that I’m older than anyone else, and they assume I’m only at Winchester to win football games. They’re half right.

I was held back in the sixth-grade back at my old boarding school, and it was to keep playing football and win games. Not my fucking idea, my dad’s. See, I do love football, but the dreams of glory playing it were always my fathers. He kept me back a grade, and yeah, my boarding school fuckin’ slayed it all the away to a division championship. But now here I am, almost a year older than everyone else. Couple that with being almost a foot taller than everyone else, too, and you can see how most people view me.

Anders and Carson get it though. As my best friends, they know me. They know that I could walk away from football today and get into any damn school I want on academics alone. I’ve got a perfect SAT score. I’m acing every single one of my classes. I just don’t brag about it. And honestly, I’m fine with people having their own shitty assumptions. Fuck ’em.

But this? Coach Stokes reaming us out after another fucking awful practice? Well, this hurts. Like I said, even if my dad’s pushed me too much, I do freaking love this damn game. I’m good at it, I love the rush, and damn is it fun. But it ain’t fun when I know none of us have our heads on straight. Not with the band on our minds.

…Not with Zara on our minds.

“Sorry, coach,” Anders growls, looking just as pissed as me. And I know it’s self-anger, just like me. We’ve never screwed up like this before.

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