Page 119 of Not Made to Last

“Dangit,” Oscar spits, taking out his wallet. He pulls out a dollar, sets it on the floor beside him.

“What did your coach do?” Dom asks, obviously done with the clothes theft. Rhys’s duffle is now empty, and Dom, Oscar and Dre have a pile of clothes each.

“He’s making me go through tryouts.”

Rhys shifts, facing Oscar. “That ain’t right,” he says, and I can hear the anger in his tone. He grasps a strand of my hair—twisting it between his fingers.Keeps your hands busy, keeps the anxiety at bay.Rhys quit coaching for a number of reasons. One: his heart was no longer in it, and two: he can’t work there while dating a student. But, quitting his position also meant he couldn’t be there for Oscar, so I know it was a tough decision to make. “You made varsity as a sophomore.”

“No shit.”

“Swear jar!” Max yells.

“Dangit!” Another dollar added to the pile later, Oscar continues. “I’m the only one he’s making tryout, so I know it’s personal.

Dom pipes up. “I made varsity as a freshman.”

“I made varsity as a freshman,” Oscar repeats, clearly mocking him.

Dom points a spatula at him. “I’ma throw your fucking hot dog in the trash.”

“Swear jar!”

Dom groans.

“He’s really making you try out?” Dre asks. “You’re the best center St. Luke’s has seen in decades.”

“Thanks, and tell him that!”

“We’d kill for a decent center,” Dre murmurs. “We’ve been subbing ours for the past two years, and they ain’t shit.”

“Swear jar!”

“Jesus,” Dre sighs, lowers his voice. “You got to get this kid a fucking Venmo.”

“Swear jar!”

“How the fuck can he hear us?” he snaps.

“Swear jar!”

Then, out of nowhere, Dominic says, thinking out loud, “You should move to Philips. You’d walk on the team.”

“Ya think?” Oscar asks, as if he’s actually contemplating it.

“We could definitely use you,” Dre says. “Plus, our coach isn’t an asshole.”

“Swear jar!”

Dre gets to his feet, screams at the top of his lungs. “God fucking dammit!”

Everyone cracks up. Everyone but Max. “Double swear for using the Lord’s name in vain!”

Dre sits back down. “I swear…” he mumbles under his breath.

“You should seriously think about it, though,” Dom tells Oscar.

Oscar shakes his head. “I can’t. Mrs. Garrett’s already dropped a house deposit on my tuition at St. Luke’s.”

Rhys releases my hair. “If that’s the only thing that’s stopping you, then don’t let it. She won’t care. You know she just wants you to be happy.”

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