Page 59 of Catch Me

He takes my hand after shutting the door behind him and practically leads me into the dining room. “Well, you look happy,” she says, greeting him.

“I’m on the short list for the All-State Scholarship,” Reid tells them. He can’t keep the grin off his face, and the words come out in a burst like he can’t contain them inside.

My mom grins, her eyes welling. Once upon a time, Brady wanted the same scholarship. My dad stands, holds out his hand, and shakes Reid’s heartily. “That’s great, Reid. Excellent news. I’ll be shocked if they don’t pick you.”

Mom quickly agrees. Her tearful reaction isn’t a response to seeing Reid make the list, it’s to seeing a life Brady wanted go unlived. I know because I feel it right now, too. I drop Reid’s hand and walk toward Mom, putting my hand around her waist and squeezing. “He would’ve wanted this for Reid.”

“I know,” she says, chastising me with a forced smile. “Of course, he would.” She looks up. “Why don’t you stay for dinner? We were just sitting down.”

Reid agrees, and my mom leaves the room to get another place setting for him. Dad and Reid keep up the conversation regarding the All-State Scholarship, my dad asking who’s won it in previous years and Reid answering with every single player except one. They had to look up that year. Finally, Reid turns to me. “Oscar made it on the short list, too.”

My eyebrows rise. “Oh, yeah?” I hadn’t even thought to ask. After I left his hospital earlier, I didn’t expect to hear anything about him ever again.

Reid nods.

“I don’t think it matters,” I tell him. “You’re going to win.”

Reid shrugs. “He’s a good player.” His gaze locks on mine like he’s trying to say something else with his words.

“Well, he won’t be for the rest of the season. His arm is broken.”

My mom gasps. “No. That’s terrible.” My mom has no idea who Oscar is, but she just can’t stand to hear when people are hurt. I guess I have a bit of that in me, too. “What happened?”

I freeze. I don’t really want to tell my parents he got jumped.

Reid must sense my hesitation because he says, “I think he fell. I don’t know. An accident of some kind.”

“Ugh,” my mom says, clutching her chest. “That’s just terrible. Poor kid. And at the end of the season too.”

“He still has next year,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.

“Who else is on the short list?” Dad asks Reid.

They throw out a few more names I recognize. Mostly big shot football players from surrounding towns. When dinner ends, I lead Reid back to my bedroom, keeping the bedroom door open after another reminder from my mother.

“Your mom’s in denial,” Reid whispers. I laugh, and he comes closer, gripping my hands in his. “You want to talk about visiting Oscar in the hospital?”

“Do you want me to talk to you about it?” I ask, still feeling uncertain.

He nods. “You’re just like your mother. I should’ve known you’d feel sorry for him.”

“It’s not about liking him,” I say.

“Please,” he says, like that was the last thing on his mind. “I know.”

I smile. “Good.”

“So?”

I sit back on the bed and cross my feet in front of me. “He’s pretty banged up. He wouldn’t tell me who did it, but please, we know it was ex-teammates from the Heights. He said they did it with a baseball bat. Bruised, swollen face. Cracked lips. Broken arm. Broken ribs. Fractured toe.”

Reid makes a face. “I bet he was livid.”

“I don’t know,” I say, thinking back on our conversation. “He seemed…hopeless.” I nod. “That’s definitely the word I’d use. He just looked like there was nothing he could do.” We’re both silent for a little while. I don’t expect Reid to say anything because I’m not going to change his mind about Oscar, and I don’t even want to. “I asked him how he knew about your note.”

Reid turns toward me with raised eyebrows. “What did he say?”

I shrug. “He didn’t give me much, but he acted scared. Like he wanted to tell me, but it wasn’t in his best interest to tell me either. He just told me to think bigger than Sasha.”

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