Then Blaine made his way slowly across the field, seemingly unconcerned.
“You wanted to see me, Gabe?” he said when they were finally within speaking distance.
Gabe knew Blaine had purposely used his first name to avoid giving him the respect of his new title but said nothing. He waited for Blaine to get a little closer. He had no intention of broadcasting the fact that they were having a problem with each other on the very first day. That would only boost gossip and start folks choosing sides, and Gabe drew enough attention as it was. He preferred to keep a low profile, if only Blaine would let him.
“What is it?” Blaine prompted.
“Well, Melvin, it seems I wasn’t notified of a change in the practice schedule.”
Blaine’s lip curled in a poor approximation of a smile. “I didn’t see any need to make you come in early. I wasn’t sure how flexible you could be with…” His gaze dropped to Gabe’s chair. “Well, let’s just say I wasn’t sure of your schedule, and I knew Owens and I could handle it.”
Gabe’s hands tightened on his wheels. Blaine had coached him; he knew how driven Gabe was, knew what being in a chair cost him. Blaine was trying to make him feel like less of a man because of his handicap, and it angered Gabe that his insecurities allowed Blaine to hit the target so perfectly.
The memory of Blaine’s hand on the back of his head, forcing him under water played again in Gabe’s mind. He was only sixteen at the time, and Blaine must’ve been forty. But once panic set in, Gabe had come up swinging and knocked his coach to the ground. He’d been ready to do more, if necessary. He still wondered what might have happened if Coach Hill hadn’t walked into the locker room at that moment.
Taking a deep, calming breath, Gabe said, “Making that change on your own is fine for today. But it had better never happen again. Do I make myself clear?”
Gabe had kept his tone and his expression so pleasant that it took a moment for his words to register. “It’s just practice, Gabe,” Blaine said. “I thought—”
“Next time you won’t need to think. You’ll know better.”
A muscle jumped in Blaine’s jaw. Except for the color of his hair, which had turned gray, he looked exactly like he had the night he’d nearly drowned Gabe in the team’s water cooler.
“Owens and I have been doing this since you were in diapers,” Blaine hissed.
“And now I’m in a wheelchair,” Gabe said calmly. “And that isn’t going to change anything either.”
Blaine said nothing. Neither did Gabe. It was a silent contest of wills. Blaine needed to understand that, wheelchair or no, Gabe was as competitive as ever. He hadn’t asked for this job, but now that he was here, he wasn’t going to let Coach Blaine run him off.
“I’m sure having a dog at practice is against school policy,” Blaine said at last, obviously grappling for whatever ammunition he could use.
Gabe shrugged. “So file a complaint.”
“It’s distracting to the boys,” he persisted.
“They’ll get used to it.”
Blaine’s lips blanched white but he held his tongue.
“Unless you have further questions, I think that about covers it,” Gabe said. “Call the team together. I’d like to talk to them.”
KENNY HAD BEEN looking forward to football since the end of last season. It gave him something to focus on that had nothing to do with his personal life. But today’s practice had been tense. Kenny hadn’t seen Blaine so pissed off since last year, when the varsity front line let the starting quarterback get sacked five times in one game.
“You need a ride, man?” Senior Matt Rodriguez nudged Kenny in the shoulder as he passed, his cleats clicking on the cement.
“No thanks.” Kenny put his gear, which he’d carried out of the locker room with him, on the ground and sat down at the curb by the fence surrounding the field.
“Your mother coming?” Matt asked.
“My dad,” he said, which meant he’d have a wait. His dad was always late.
Matt dug his keys out of his football bag. “See you tomorrow, then.”
“Yeah, you too.” Kenny watched enviously as his friend pulled out of the lot in a beat-up red truck. Kenny had his license but no car to drive. Because his mother occasionally had to travel to different shoots, she couldn’t loan him her Volvo, at least not very often. And he knew better than to hope his dad might help him buy a car—even an old junker. Russ Price was lucky to have wheels of his own. What he drove usually ran worse than Matt’s truck.
Tossing a rock across the parking lot, Kenny leaned against the fence and considered the coming weekend. The prospect of spending another few days at his father’s trailer wasn’t particularly appealing. Kenny was still angry about Brent getting hold of that porn video. What kind of father kept that shit in the house where a little boy could reach it?
The sound of a car made him glance up.
“You need a ride, Kenny?” Tiffany Wheeler smiled prettily at him from inside her green bug. The cheerleaders were usually gone when football practice let out. Evidently they’d stayed late.
“No, I’m covered,” he said. “Thanks.”
“You goin’ to the dance tonight?”
Tempted by the promise in her voice, he hesitated. He was almost positive Tiffany liked him, which was quite a compliment since she was a year older and so many of the other boys admired her. But he couldn’t go to the dance. After the lack of remorse Russ had shown over that video incident, Kenny didn’t want to leave his little brother with their father. Kenny wouldn’t put it past Russ to go out drinking and leave Brent home alone. “Not this time.”
“Oh.” Her expression revealed her disappointment. Kenny feared she’d simply set her heart on someone else, but he couldn’t change his mind.
“Okay. Have fun whatever you do,” she said.
He’d be baby-sitting, which didn’t sound like fun at all. He did a lot of it. But he was Brent’s only protection when they weren’t with their mother. If Kenny told Hannah half the stuff that went on at his father’s place, she’d sue Russ for full custody again, and Kenny didn’t want that to happen. The court battles freaked everyone out. Especially Brent, who loved Russ regardless.
Kenny loved their father, too. He just wished Russ could pull his life together and take some pride in himself for a change. “See you around,” he said as Tiffany drove off.
Car doors slammed, engines rumbled and parent after parent came by for those who didn’t drive.
At least half an hour later, Coach Blaine stalked past Kenny, but didn’t say anything. A few minutes after that, Coach Owens mumbled goodbye.
Even Owens seemed worried about the recent changes, Kenny realized, and cursed under his breath. He missed Coach Hill. Everything was cool when Coach Hill was around. Gabe had given them a stern lecture about persistence and determination. He’d talked about all-for-one and one-for-all, personal excellence and self-discipline, and he’d said that only those guys who played with heart would play for him. Then, he’d instituted a few new drills that were guaranteed to make them too sore to move tomorrow. The speech was good, and the drills might prove helpful, but with the coaching staff fighting amongst themselves, Kenny wasn’t sure any amount of motivation or hard work would make enough difference. Coach Hill always said they had to be unified or they wouldn’t win a single game. Football is a team sport, my friends….
“Kenny?”
He scrambled to his feet when he saw Coach Holbrook and his dog coming toward him from the locker room. Kenny wasn’t surprised Gabe was still around—Gabe’s truck was one