Home > Hood River Zero(3)

Hood River Zero(3)
Author: K. Webster

“No, I need you to coach, Terrence. I need you. The girls need you. The school needs you. And as much as it pains me to have not one, but two Hoodlums on my payroll, it doesn’t change the fact you’re the best man for this job. You’re someone I trust to do an excellent job.”

“You trust me?” I ask, clarifying and biting back a laugh of disbelief. “After all the shit I did to you at this school.”

“Naughty children aren’t bad people,” she says, her brows furrowing. “They need support and guidance and love. They need direction. They need someone to have faith in them. When they have that, they grow into good adults—good men. You and your Hoodlum friends may have driven me crazy, but it doesn’t change the fact you are good people. Cal hasn’t let me down this past semester and neither will you. I have a knack for knowing these things. Now trust me and say you’ll accept the job.”

“All I gotta do is coach these girls at the sport I love? And you’re gonna pay me for it?” I ask, rubbing at the back of my neck.

“Well, it’s not the best pay by any means, just ask Cal. But it’s a decent salary that comes with health insurance.”

Garrett has paid for every damn one of my medical bills. I thought he’d back out of that once we discovered it wasn’t Charlotte driving, but he continued on, never mentioning it. When I saw him yesterday at the clinic, the lady at the front desk said the visit fee had been waived. As much as I was relieved not to be drowning in hospital bill debt, I don’t feel right about continuing to take from this man. Having health insurance could be a good thing.

And if the girl is mine…

It’s time to man the fuck up.

“Do I gotta teach history or some shit?” I ask, frowning.

“Cal mentioned your trouble with computers because of your head injury,” she says, her voice soft. “I’ve written into your contract that no classroom instruction is necessary to your employment. However, if later you decide this is something you want to do, we can find a good fit for you. We’ve recently lost an English teacher. Don’t act like I didn’t see your SAT scores. You may have given me trouble and skimmed along in high school, but you got your degree at OSU and your SAT scores, especially in reading, were exceptional. If it’s something you want to pursue, I can guide you in the right direction.”

Coaching.

Basketball has always been important to me. Cal and I both played for OSU and enjoyed it. Where most of the guys wanted to go pro, I wasn’t interested. I knew I wanted to go back to Hood River and be with my boys. Before the accident, Cal and I wanted to work together or go into business together. This would be a step back in the direction of what I had planned for my future. It would feel great to feel normal again.

“Where do I need to sign?” I ask, leaning forward as excitement trickles through me. “I think I can do this.”

Karen sets a packet of employment papers in front of me. “Honey, I know you can. Welcome to the team.”

Cal playfully punches my shoulder and I grin.

Holy shit. I’m going to do this. I’m really going to do this.

For the first time since I woke up, I feel empowered. Like my life is my own and I am the one in control.

I’m getting my life back.

Fucking finally.

 

 

Penny

 

They’re noisy.

Always so noisy.

People, that is. All of them. My family. Tierra. The Hoodlums. Sebban. It’s like they live life to make sounds. Laughter and growls and words. So many damn words.

It’s irritating.

I’ve learned to tune it out, though.

I had to.

When I mentioned it as a kid, Dad got that weird “I’m going to diagnose you now” look on his face. I may have been young, but I was sharp enough to realize it wasn’t normal and that telling people only brings attention to it.

So, like any person who doesn’t want to stand out, I learned to cope with the maddening onslaught that whips at me every damn day.

I learned to shut it all out.

All that chaos that seems to echo inside my head, louder and louder with each passing second had to be muted. Ignored. Forgotten. If not, it was going to drive me insane.

The first time I learned to shut it all out was through an app on my tablet. A silly game that required constant movement of colored items, arranging them in an order to make them disappear, earning points for larger, more complicated strings of them. It’s like the task was so intense, it numbed the other parts of me, not allowing sounds to overwhelm me.

Mom tried to limit my screen time, stating I was turning into a zombie. Little did she know, the games were helping me cope. Her solution to my obsession was basketball. Hollis played basketball and loved it. Charlotte had cheerleading. Mom thought I needed comradery and fresh air.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The first time I’d sat in the gym at the YMCA, waiting to start my first basketball practice, I’d wanted to scream in frustration at all the noise and chaos. But, my coach spoke to us while dribbling his ball. There was something calming in the repetitious sound, soothing my trembling soul. I fixated on it. Became obsessed with it. The moment he handed me the ball, it’s like I was once again on my tablet game, performing tasks and running through exercises that drowned out the disorder suffocating me. It gave my mind purpose and another mechanism to cope.

Giggles drag me from my inner thoughts, piercing the safe haven I’ve erected around my mind when I’m on the basketball court.

Liv Johnson.

The girl who wishes she were a cheerleader, but has a talent for playing ball. Prissy as fuck. Wears fucking mascara to every practice and game. Loud and annoying.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I dribble past where she stands and is pointing toward the bleachers while whispering to her friends. Tierra shows up out of nowhere, challenge gleaming in her brown eyes. I fake right and then dribble around her left. She gets her windmill arms going in front of me, but I’ve practiced with this girl enough to know her style. I fake right, knowing she’ll expect me to go left, and then I just shoot the ball from the three-point line.

Swoosh.

Another sound I like.

Someone whistles. It’s jarring and each one of my nerve endings quivers in disgust. Shrieking, shrill sounds are the worst.

I swivel around, scowling at the offender.

Fucking Cal.

“Bring it in, wannabe ballers,” Cal calls out. “We're going to see who can actually play. Then you can get back home to your mommies.”

Tierra nudges my shoulder with hers as we walk over to where Cal is waiting with Terrence. I don’t know what the hell those knuckleheads are doing here, but I’m intrigued.

“You know about this?” I ask, arching a brow at her.

“Nope, but I can tell by the shit-eating grin on Cal’s face, we aren’t gonna like it.” She smirks at me. “That smile promises trouble.”

All the players crowd around them. Several girls are red-faced and it has nothing to do with practicing before tryouts. They’re giddy over these guys.

That, I’ll never understand.

I shift on my feet, hating that oily feeling that slicks over my skin whenever I think about hooking up with someone. Anyone for that matter. The idea of them in my face, slobbering all over me—breathing on me—makes me shudder. Imagining them naked and sweating, rubbing against me is even more disgusting.

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