Page 51 of Player
I shake my head, "I'm not everyone."
"Oh right, sorry,” Emery replies, mock bowing to me. “You're the great Player! The football prodigy."
"Are you jealous?"
The words have barely left my lips before I regret saying them. I can criticize my best friend for things—nobody's perfect—but he's not envious.
He shakes his head, and his gaze is filled with pity when he responds. "Honestly, I don't even recognize you since we arrived on campus. You used to at least be a good teammate, and semi-responsible. I’m not sure who the fuck you are right now."
Without adding anything else, he turns away from me and walks down the path.
"Maybe you don't know me as well as you thought!" I shout at his back.
Emery shakes his head but doesn't turn around. I know I've just disappointed him, and somehow, he's the last person on Earth I thought I'd hurt. I guess that's the real Player, this raw, wounded guy who spends his time fighting against the universe. Everyone who gets close to me eventually sees who I really am deep down, and they leave. It's almost like a law of physics, the opposite of gravity/ I eject everything around me from my orbit.
My father's voice echoes in my head,You'll never amount to anything in your life... You're only good at following what I say... Without the Boardman name, you're nothing...
Instinctively, my fists clench. If I could unleash the fury that drives me, I'd want to be face-to-face with my father. He's responsible for everything that's happening to me.
Other memories surface that I can't push away, in each one, my father has that look filled with anger toward me, and what follows, I can still feel it in my flesh. I almost grind my teeth from rage. If the world knew what Bolton Boardman's façade of a smile concealed, his career would be over immediately. But only I can reveal his hidden face, and I have no intention of stirring up all that shit. I've fought too hard to forget it, to push it into a corner of my mind that I thought I had double locked. It only took one hookup with Alabama to create a whole bunch of additional problems for me.
I sigh in frustration when I realize that what brought me here could also be the solution to my torment. Truth is, when I buried myself in Dixie, during the entire time we were in my room, I wasn't angry anymore. I wasn't the pissed-off Player, I was… someone else. I push this thought away. No, Alabama isn't an answer to my problems, she's the cause of them.
In the distance, Emery's silhouette disappears around a bend in the path. I find myself alone with my thoughts, and damn, I hate this feeling.
21
DIXIE
The cheerleading team has potential.The athletes are talented, and some can perform fairly technical tumbling moves.
I noticed it at the end of the Jaguars' game when Saphya introduced me to Linda, and my impression is confirmed watching tonight’s practice.
Attending these sessions is probably the worst idea for me, it reminds me of everything I can no longer do. The scar on my forearm is a perpetual reminder of what cheerleading gave me, physical and mental suffering, and the destruction of my dreams.
Sitting in a corner of the gym, not far from the mat, I have a front-row seat to the argument between a cheerleader, Jessy, and her boyfriend, Jordan. I remember their names because they're the star couple of the team, nicknamed JJ.
Thinking they're out of earshot, Jessy snaps at her boyfriend, "I saw how you were looking at her."
"I swear that's not it! I was just making sure she was balanced."
"Right! By touching her ass?"
The young woman crosses her arms over her chest in a pouty gesture.
"Jessy... You know how I feel about you," he tries to pacify her.
"JJ! We're waiting for you!" Coach Linda calls out.
My attention shifts back to the mat where the rest of the team is working on base positioning. I quickly notice they have a coordination problem. After several attempts, they still can't properly catch the flyers.
"They should switch," I mutter.
"Who?"
I jump at the sound of Saphya's voice as she joins me.
"Who should switch?" she asks.
