I wanted to clear the air. Tell my teammates what was really going on and promise them that I’d have it taken care of before the season started, but I’d given Coach my word. I wouldn’t let him or the guys down.
That’s when it dawned on me—the perfect excuse. “And she’s Coach’s niece. He’d definitely bench me if he found out.”
TyShaun nodded. “Ah, that makes sense. All right, all right. I won’t say anything to anyone else. Your somewhat disturbing secret is safe with me.”
“Thanks, Ty.” I hoped he was done talking about Wren, but that dream went down the toilet two seconds later. “So, you two are hooking up during study hall? In the library?” He had a big grin on his face. “That’s ballsy. Even for you.”
I shook my head and focused on my stride. Hopefully TyShaun would get the hint and stop asking me about Wren. The chances weren’t great, though; we’d talked about previous hookups. If this wasn’t a massive lie, it wouldn’t be any different. While I hadn’t told any of the guys on the team about it, I planned on dropping the charade next year at college. Sure, I still wanted to go out and meet girls, but I wasn’t going to brag about my conquests in the locker room. It made me sound immature, and it left me feeling a little sick.
Brandon jogged past us, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention. Thank goodness. He and Wren were close. He wouldn’t hesitate to tell her the moment practice was over, and then she’d definitely refuse to work with me. I’d be royally screwed.
TyShaun raised an eyebrow. “Listen, whatever you want to do is your business. But if you’re going through some kind of quarter-life crisis, let me know. We can get you help.” He threw his head back and laughed. “The team would fall apart without you, bro. So you do whatever, or whoever, you need to in order to keep in top form.”
Instead of responding, I shoved him and sprinted forward.
The rest of practice flew by. By the time Coach told us to hit the showers, I was sweaty and exhausted. I’d given it my all, like I always did, and even though I normally stayed for at least an hour afterward to shoot baskets, I had to head home and get going on my homework.
Plus, I needed to do some brainstorming and figure out a way to get out of the bet without giving up my secret or destroying my pride.
Coach blew his whistle. “Fuller, I need to talk to you for a minute.”
“Yes, sir.” I jogged over to him.
The rest of the guys walked by me. Marc made sure to spin around once Coach’s back was to him. He mouthed “Wrentainer” and made stupid kissing motions, then burst into laughter, and TyShaun joined in.
Good thing my face was already red from practice. These two were obviously going to humiliate me every chance they got. I’d have to take it, though. I couldn’t risk anyone else finding out.
“How did the tutoring session go today?” Coach’s face looked pensive, like he was preparing for me to tell him Wren had already given up on me.
“Good, sir. Wren gave me several areas to focus on while brainstorming the topic for our next Lit paper. She’s really smart and helpful.” I might be laying it on a little thick, but every word I uttered was true. That made the guilt of the bet sting a little less.
He kept his arms planted firmly across his chest. “You know this is serious, right? If you don’t bring your grade up, you’re riding the bench.”
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
Coach gave me a curt nod. “That’s all.”
“Thank you, sir.” I turned around and headed for the locker room.
“You aren’t staying late to shoot free throws tonight?” Coach arched an eyebrow.
I shrugged. “Actually, I’m going to head home. I’ve got to read nine chapters of a book, or um, listen to it, and I have math homework, too.”
Coach’s expression softened. “I’m glad to hear you’re taking this to heart, Fuller.”
…
The scent of garlic bread floated across the kitchen table. My stomach promptly grumbled in response.
The light gray walls in the dining room were cluttered with family photos. Enshrined forever were happy trips to Yellowstone National Park and framed pictures from a vacation to Washington, D.C. My parents always insisted on taking family photos, some serious and others totally goofy, every time we went somewhere new. They had rows of homemade scrapbooks lining the bookshelves in their bedroom and offices.
“How was school today, honey?” Mom passed me a large bowl of pasta.
“Good.” I scooped several heaping servings onto my plate, burying the blue flower design in the center.
My little brother giggled from across the table, his light brown eyes flashing with interest. He took after our mom in the looks department, and I took after my dad.
Clearing his throat, Dad caught Mom’s gaze. “Hudson, can you do us a favor and grab the pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator?”
He scrunched up his nose and grinned. “You’re in so much trouble.”
“Hudson,” Mom said in a firm voice. “Lemonade, now.”
Getting off his chair, his little feet hit the floor. “I know. I know. I’ll take my time.”
As soon as he disappeared around the corner, Mom and Dad turned toward me.
“Fuller, how could you be doing so poorly in AP Literature class? You’ve never failed a class before!” Mom’s eyes were wide and her brow furrowed.
Of course Principal Davis would let them know… It couldn’t have been a complete surprise to them. They’d been on me when my grade dropped from a B to a C and again when it went from C to a D, but I’d promised to bring it up. A promise, it turns out, that I couldn’t keep.
“I—I—” Unable to come up with an excuse, I let my head fall. The homemade bunny salt-and-pepper shakers in the middle of the wooden table didn’t offer any brilliant answers, so I remained quiet.
“I don’t want to hear excuses. This is your only AP class.” My dad frowned. “Principal Davis told us that Coach’s niece will be tutoring you until you’ve raised your grade back up.”
“Yes, sir.” I struggled to get the words out. Not only were my parents upset with me, but I’d made a terrible bet that could end up hurting someone who didn’t deserve it.
“We want a daily report. Details of what you covered in class, what you did in your tutoring session, and a rundown of your homework.” Dad crossed his arms. He looked at me like Coach had before I left practice.
Shoulders drooping, I replied. “Yes, sir.”
“You need to set a better example for your little brother.”