Chapter 16

JAX:

Everything was blurry. I viciously swiped a hand across my face.

The warm lights of Coach's house shined over their lawn. I stood there for a while in the cold, quiet night air.

This felt like giving up.

This felt weak.

But I was tired. So so tired.

And then I was knocking on their door, moths fluttering under the porch light. Coach opened the door in a Bulls hoodie and sweatpants. He took in the rapidly forming bruises on my neck with staring eyes, then wordlessly stepped aside to let me in.

Mrs Coach appeared behind him, wrapped in a thick fluffy nightgown. I heard her intake of breath when she saw me, her hand going to her mouth.

Coach led me to their kitchen and sat me down. Their house was very warm. Mrs Coach bustled around, pulling things out from the fridge. She handed me a bag of frozen blueberries wrapped in a tea towel. Soon the sound of an electric kettle boiling water filled the room.

"Thanks, " I managed to croak. I held the bag to my throat.

Coach watched me impassively. "What happened, son?" He said quietly.

My eyes found a small dent in the wooden floor. "Fight, " I said. "Sorry to impose. "

"Nonsense. " He said, but to one which I didn't know. Both, maybe.

Mrs Coach returned to press a glass of ice water into my hand. On the table in front of me she placed a bowl of green and white ice cream. She placed a hand gently on my shoulder, then turned and left the kitchen.

I ran my tongue around my mouth. I could still taste blood, from where my own teeth had cut the inside of my cheek.

Coach sighed and shifted his elbows on the table forwards towards me. "Jax. " He said. "Why doesn't your mother go to the police? Why don't you?"

I bit down on the inside of my cheek, drawing fresh blood. I clenched my hands together. "She um. She doesn't have a job. And also - we don't know who on the police is corrupted. "

Coach looked down and nodded slowly. After a long while, he sat up and pushed the melting ice-cream and the water towards me. I gratefully took the glass, chugging it in a few seconds.

Coach got up silently and left. I turned around to follow him with my eyes, then shrugged and began eating the ice-cream. It was pear and vanilla, I think. Felt good as hell on my throat.

Coach returned with a towel and some clean clothes - all some form of football jersey or branded sweatpants.

"Lost property, " He said. "Keep it. Your room is up the stairs, first on the right. It's got an en suite. Me and Mrs Coach will be downstairs if you need anything. "

He knuckled my arm and turned to leave.

"Coach. " I said suddenly.

He turned back. I was silent, my mouth twisting, heart thudding. "Thank you. "

He nodded. "No problem, Jax. It's nothing. Turn off the lights when you go, ok?" He smiled at me and left the room.

I sat there alone for a few moments, then got up stiffly and walked out, flicking the lights off as I left.

I was exhausted, but something in me wanted to stand under the shower and let the water run over me, as if it would remove the bruises he had made around my neck. Inside my huge Cobra jacket pockets, I had a toothbrush and toothpaste, a razor, a bit of soap in a ziplock bag, all of that - I was always staying at other people's houses.

Suddenly, I felt like a wave was crashing over my head and I was so so tired. I wanted it all to stop.

I didn't want to run anymore.

-----

ROCCO:

Shit, it was freezing. I tucked my hands into my armpits, striding over to the benches beside the field, my duffel bag hitting my leg with each step.

I was the first there. I had wanted to get out of my house as fast as possible - it was so fucking weird being there. My parents were acting completely normal - not that they were very affectionate anyway, never had been. It felt like seeing my dad and Wilson's mom and everything had been some kind of dream.

It wasn't a dream, though. I didn't know why my parents insisted on pretending nothing had happened. Every time I thought of a memory from my childhood with my family, the image of my dad and Jax's mom flashed in front of me.

I dumped my bag on the icy bench. I heard the crunch of tires on gravel and turned around. Coach's little grey car was pulling up in the parking lot. Coach got out, then went round to the boot and brought out a mesh bag of footballs and a stack of cones. Then a blonde guy got out of the passenger seat. It looked... like Wilson. He was wearing the school football tracksuit, a white sport turtleneck underneath, and trainers.

I frowned. Why was Wilson with Coach? Maybe he had just given him a ride.

Wilson looked... different. He always looked different when he wasn't wearing his Cobra jacket and black boots. When he put on "normal clothes" he always looked... Well, he didn't look like so much of an asshole.

I squinted under the harsh grey morning light as they got closer.

"Morning, Coach. " I said, ignoring Wilson.

"Morning, Rocco. " Coach replied, handing me a stack of cones. "Here, set up the field, son. "

I saluted him and began to jog away, but not before I heard Coach mutter in a low voice to Wilson.

"You sure you want to do this, son?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm fine, dude. " Wilson answered.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at him calling Coach "dude". What was up with Wilson though, huh?

Across the field, I saw Wilson mirroring me, jogging around the field, setting up cones. I concentrated on following the white lines as we got closer and closer, then met in the middle. Wilson placed his last cone down, gave me a weird look, then jogged back to Coach and where the rest of the team was assembling. I saw Ryan clap him on the back in greeting.

We began running through warm-up drills and stretches. I focused on pushing myself and setting an example as Captain - but I couldn't help my eyes drifting over to Wilson at the opposite end to me. He kept up with the rest of us perfectly, which for some reason made me pissed. He'd been training for less than a month. Maybe he'd learned from his father.

We partnered up and began practicing passing - me with Rio, him with Ryan. His technique was near perfect as well - nowhere near as good as mine, but still... I guess he could have practiced with Ryan before.

After an hour of drills, we were all sweaty and tired, and took a water break. I saw Coach pass Wilson a bottle and frowned. Was Wilson really that slack? Where was his stuff?

Next up was a mock game. We divided in two mini-teams and began the playoff. I felt like I hadn't played football in ages, and it felt good to only think about where the ball was, and where I should be and tackling, passing, catching, running. I made a mental note of our strengths and weaknesses, trying to think like a coach and a player at the same time. Something became very obvious very soon, however.

Wilson was shit.

His receives and passes were slack. He couldn't keep up. He was constantly tackled to the ground. He always seemed to be in the wrong place.

I hoped my helmet hid my grin. All his pretty technique in drills - he didn't seem to be able to transfer his skills. Wonder Kid Wilson wasn't so untouchable after all.

He was beginning to get dirty looks from the guys, and I was beginning to get pointed ones. Ones that meant "tell Coach to get him out of here". However, the more I watched, half detached in the way you were when you were playing, I began to see that maybe Wilson wasn't weak, or slow, or dumb.

He wasn't trying.

He jogged unhurriedly up the field, his face blank under his helmet. His eyes watched the ball coming towards him, but the arm he outstretched was lazy. The ball fell through his relaxed fingers and I saw him mouth "whoops".

Ryan was watching him too, his face screwed up a little.

When he did finally catch the ball, Rio tackled him. Like, not even hard. Rio was just being a dick - he had been smirking the whole time as he watched Wilson fail. He really hated him, and wanted to show off.

Wilson thudded onto his back, Rio's arms around his hips. Rio pushed off him, giving him a mean-spirited teasing slap on the shoulder. Wilson didn't react to that at all, just rolled over and got up. His face was completely expressionless. His eyes flicked up to the stands.

I followed his gaze, to where a big hulking man sat alone on the highest row. That was Wilson's father, wasn't it?

If Wilson's father was here, why did Wilson arrive with Coach?

Rio jogged up to me, a smug smile on his face. "What ya looking at? " He grinned.

I narrowed my eyes, still watching Wilson. "Checking out the fresh meat. "

Rio laughed. "Not so fresh, is he?"

At the end of practice, everyone was tired but glad the trainings were hard - tournament was coming up soon. I shoved my stuff into my bag. The clouds were darker now, the air thick like it was before rain.

As I straightened up, I saw Wilson's father coming down the stairs. Wilson was watching him too, then abruptly picked up the mesh bag of footballs and turned and began striding back to Coach's car.

My eyebrows went up, then came down into a frown. What...Why wasn't Wilson leaving with his father? Coach had seen him too, and stood watching for a moment then turned to follow Wilson.

I turned my eyes back to Wilson's father. He had stopped coming down the stairs, and just stood there, a dark shape in the white stands.