False Start (Eastshore Tigers Book 2) by Alison Hendricks Page B

through the crowd to look at the list that’s been posted on a bulletin board.
    I have to squint to read it. Coach Garvey printed it in the smallest font possible, apparently, but at least it’s organized by offense, defense, and special teams.
    I scan the list, trying not to get my hopes up. Halfway down, I see it.
     
    E RICKSON , MITCHELL (LB)
     
    M y breath catches in my throat. My heart stops, then pounds at an erratic rate. I feel the rush of a potent cocktail of adrenaline and endorphins, fighting to overwhelm my sense of disbelief.
    I’m starting.
    I’m starting in the first game of the season. A game that’s going to be televised. I’m going to don the uniform and play for the Tigers. I’m going to have the chance to make crucial, game-altering plays. My parents are going to be able to see me on TV.
    Holy shit.
    Mills moves up beside me, and I hold my breath, waiting to see a smile spread across his face. But he doesn’t smile. There’s a flicker of something in his expression. Disbelief. Disappointment. And then it’s washed away, replaced by something shockingly neutral.
    I look back at the list.
    Mills’ name isn’t on it.
    “How the fuck is that possible,” I say aloud.
    “Guess the other guys just outplayed me,” he says, and his voice is totally devoid of emotion.
    He shrugs, then steps back from the list. Before I can say anything to him—before I can even turn—he’s swallowed up in a sea of eager players.
    It’s just one game, I tell myself.
    Next week, he’ll be on this list. Next week, we’ll both be on this list.
    But even still, my soaring feeling is suddenly halted, crashing down lower than I’ve been so far.
    I shouldn’t feel bad about this. A part of me is even resentful; it’s not my fault he didn’t get the position. But seeing that look on his face, I have the sudden urge to do anything to bring back the smile I saw in the tunnel.

    * * *
    I wait until most of the other guys leave, including Mills. It’s just me, a couple other stragglers, and Coach Garvey.
    When I’m sure I’m in the clear, I knock on his door.
    “Come on in,” he says distractedly.
    I close the door behind me, and stand in front of his desk. “Hey, Coach. Do you have a sec to talk about Saturday’s game?”
    He sets down his pen and looks up at me. “What’s on your mind, son?”
    “I think there was some mistake in the starting players.”
    Coach Garvey leans back and lifts on white eyebrow at me. I can see the retort on his face, even if he doesn’t say it. I don’t make mistakes.
    “I just expected to see Mills on there.”
    “So did I,” Garvey says, and there’s the strangest twinge of regret to his voice.
    Maybe I can get him to change it after all. It’s just one game. I need to start, but I have plenty of chances to fulfill the deal I made with my father.
    “There’s more to this team than performance. If I rated solely based on that, Mills would make the cut every time. But he has some things to sort through. You of all people should know that.”
    My lungs just seem to stop working. I can hear the rush of my own pulse, but nothing else. Is he just talking about that first incident on the practice field, or did he somehow see what happened in the locker room?
    I can feel heat rise in my cheeks. I bet there are cameras. Maybe not in the showers, but in the main locker area.
    “Uh, okay,” I say gracelessly. “That makes sense.”
    “Like I said earlier, it’s week by week. I’m sure he’ll earn his way back into the starting roster.”
    I nod, swallowing hard. Garvey doesn’t say anything about the locker room incident, though. He doesn’t have some sly look on his face. He doesn’t stare me down and say: I know what you are.
    And I back out of his office before he can ever get the chance.
    My heart is still pounding as I make my way to my locker to grab my stuff.
    One week. It’ll all be okay. Just one week, and the world will right itself again.

10
    Mitch
    I