2. CODY

CODY

“ Y ou’re benched.”

I pushed from my chair in the Coach's office. Principal McMaine stood off to the side behind the desk, staring at me with disdain on her crumpled old face.

“This is a joke, right?” I looked at them with utter dismay. I should have known something was off the second I stepped inside the office to find my father conversing with the two of them. “You’re joking… okay.” I shook my head.

“This isn’t a joke, son,” My father warned, his tone laced with authority. “Sit your ass down.”

I listened. The only man able to demand anything from me was my father. His cold green eyes watched as I lowered into my chair. His face hardened from working under the Texas sun; he was all tan lines and calluses. His cowboy hat was shoved into his lap, and his messy, dirty blonde, graying hair was matted to his forehead with sweat.

“Your grades.” Coach slid the folder across the table to me, “you’re failing English, Ryan.”

“No,” I pushed my hat off my head and ran my fingers through my hair. “I’ve been getting passing grades on every paper I hand in.”

“You’ve handed in three of the eleven assignments this semester, Mr. Cody.” Principal McMaine nodded toward the folder with her eyebrows raised in disappointment.

I huffed, rubbing my hands over my jeans and leaning back in the rickety, tweed chair that itched at my biceps. “So what, I hand in those late assignments…”

“Missing,” she corrected me.

“I hand in those missing assignments, and I’m clear.”

“Not exactly,” she explained. “You’ll notice the absence of Mrs. Raymond?”

“Yes.” I nodded.

Mrs. Raymond was a swamp creature.

Her long fingers scraped the chalkboard when she wrote her dull lectures across them for us to copy, and she smelled like bath water that a dog had been sitting in. We were all fortunate that Mrs. Raymond was absent. Coach would spend six weeks cleaning his carpets to get the smell out.

“Did she need to get home to check on her taxidermy collection?” I joked, but it didn't stick to the landing. “Ha, ha!”

“This isn’t a joke, Mr. Cody.” She stared at me.

My eyes flickered to Dad, who wouldn’t even look out of sheer disappointment. It was written all over his face. His bearded jaw screwed shut because if he opened it out would spill a string of abuse that was only meant for the privacy of his old work truck.

“Mrs. Raymond has grown increasingly frustrated with your lack of care and respect in her class. She refused even to have this meeting with us. We’re just trying to help you because if you don’t pass this class, you won’t play the rest of the season,” she explained further.

The noose tightening around my throat at the thought of not playing ball anymore blurred my vision, and my breathing turned quick and shallow. Coach turned his eyes on me, pride burning behind them. This was punishment for making a fool of him yesterday, nothing more, but it was enough to shove back my panic.

“I’m impressed,” I leaned back, masking the worry and forcing my tense shoulders to go slack as I crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re willing to destroy the season for this?”

“This isn’t my fault, Cody,” Coach said without missing a beat.

“Mrs. Raymond has agreed to give you one more chance. You have two weeks to write a paper on something that matters to you. She’s left a guideline, and Mr. Cody, this is your last chance. You'll take this seriously if you ever want to see the field again.”

“Whatever.” I shrugged my shoulders. The frustration rolled through me like a tidal wave. It was a mistake to bench me, and Coach would learn the hard way when the team started to lose without me. I wasn’t going to beg on my knees for my spot. That’s precisely what he wanted from me. “Can I go now?” I turned to Principal McMaine.

“You’re excused.”

I rose from my chair, scooping my bookbag in my fingers and over my shoulder.

“Mr. Cody,” her voice hummed as I grabbed the door knob.

Turning back, I saw her, hand on her hip, folder in her hand, “You’re forgetting something.”

“Right,” I said, taking the folder from her with a fake, cheesy smile and leaving the room as quickly as possible. The halls were empty as I turned out into them, making the hollow sound of my Dad’s old cowboy boots stomping against the tile worse. He followed me toward the parking lot and out of the main doors.

“What the hell is wrong with you, boy?” He asked as we approached his truck.

“Nothing, it was a mistake.” I looked around to ensure the parking lot was empty. “I’ll get it straightened out.”

His hand shot out and came down across the side of my head. The pain from the slap rang through my spine, shooting across my muscles in short, painful vibrations until it dulled and my eyes focused again.

“You have to take things seriously, Ryan. Do you think your mother and I work ourselves raw to support you and your sister so that you can throw it all away because you’re too busy to hand in some stupid English assignment? You embarrassed me today.” He grabbed the collar of my hoodie and slammed me against the truck.

“Dad,” I said, wanting to push back but knowing I couldn’t and probably shouldn’t escalate the situation, at least not in public. “I’m trying.”

“You’ve been acting like a child, sneaking out, pissing away your talent with drinking at that Landry house. You better smarten up, boy, and figure out how to act like a man, or I’ll remind you how to.”

His threats were never empty.

“I’ll sort it out, Sir.” I nodded tightly, “I have to go to class.”

“Do not disappoint me,” he warned, finally uncurling his strong hand from my hoodie. His finger came inches from my face, a warning. “I mean it, boy. Do not make me come back down here, or you’ll never play ball again.”

I heard him loud and clear.

Easier said than done.

He slammed the truck door and was gone before I could get my bearings. When I turned to look back up at the school, Lorraine Field was standing there. Her tiny, pretty face creased in concern as her fingers tightened around her books. The wind pushed through the long, dark strands of her brunette hair and danced around on her pale skin. She wore a long brown skirt and warm sweater that swallowed her frame whole.

Her bright blue eyes looked so sad in the daylight, and for a second, I forgot the ringing in my head.

She blinked, and a flash of heat rose to my neck.

“What are you staring at?” I barked at her, still on edge from my dad and now…embarrassed that someone had overheard that conversation.

She turned and started toward the school, forcing me to jog just to catch up to her.

“Fuck,” I swore under my breath. “I’m sorry,” I shook out the frustration, just trying to get her to stop for a second, but she only picked up her speed. “you’re that girl from the porch!”

That didn’t stop her, either. She reached for the door as I slid between her and it.

“I know you aren’t mute,” I teased, but she glared at me. I leaned into her space, watching her lean back. “Oh, come on, is this how you treat a boy hopelessly in love?”

“Excuse me,” she said quietly, a rosy blush forming on her cheeks.

“That’s it?” I exclaimed and leaned against the door as the bell buzzed over our heads. “How much of that conversation did you hear?” I asked her.

The look in her eyes told me everything I needed to know.

“He’s not always like that,” I brushed it off. “He’s a pretty good dad. Your dad is the Mayor, right?”

“Sure,” she blinked slowly, the disbelief evident as a tight scowl formed on her lips as she stared past me.

“You’re very nervous,” I noted, pressing against the door to give her space. “But very pretty.”

“Can you move?” She hid the blush well, but I could see it creeping on her cheeks.

“Why haven’t I seen you around before?” I asked her, shifting my bag on my shoulder and tilting my head into her eyeline with a bright, forced smile.

“Do you know where the library is?” She asked me.

I knew our school had one.

“Uh,” I lifted my shoulders and tilted my head back, trying to find an answer.

“That’s why,” She said before I could, “now please move.”

“You’re not very friendly,” I said.

“You’re not very smart,” she retorted, catching me off guard as she pulled on the door.

That time, I moved for her. A shred of insult hit home with her last remark, and the fight drained from my muscles. I watched her scurry down the hallway, expecting to feel relief when she turned the corner, but instead, I was flooded with the need to see her again.