Brighton Part One

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Nobody has anything to say about the loss on the bus ride home. The hum from the diesel engine roars around the players and coaches. Fans and faculty driving to the game travel around the bus, honking in support to raise team spirit.

As he stands from the front seat, Coach Sparks says, "Team!" Turning to meet every player eye to eye, "Y'all played a helluva game, so stand proud. We're going to win most of the time and, on occasion, lose. Our perfect season may be gone, but we are still the best damn team in the great state of Texas! Can I get an amen?"

"Yeah, woohoo, amen," Clarke says as most of the team says it without conviction.

"C'mon now y'all! That was pathetic. Deep down in your bones, you know this season is far from lost. Gimme the best, energetic amen!"

"AMEN!" The team shouts to shut the coach up.

Coach Sparks takes his seat, seeing it'll take some work to get the team back on the same page. He pulls out a yellow legal pad, working on a speech for the post-game interview the next morning.

When the bus arrives back at Brighton High School, several cars follow. Everyone begins to flash their headlights and honk. Those with their windows rolled down lean out, hollering at the team, "YOU'LL GET 'EM NEXT TIME, BOYS!"

"BRIGHT RULES!"

"GRIZZLIES ALL THE WAY!" are some things yelled over the roar of honks and engines.

Inside the locker room, the team captains stuff the equipment away and leave the filthy, stained jerseys in the laundry bins. Outside, the rest of the team doesn't wait around. Everyone gets a ride or gets into their vehicle to head home. The feeling of defeat is a heavy weighted blanket over the heart of Brighton.

Clarke manages to get back to the motel to find a note that was slid under the door, "You have the room until Sunday. You'll either need to pay or vacate the premises. Thank you for staying with us, Motel Management," Clarke stands in the doorway for a moment, "Fuck me running backwards!"

Slamming the door shut, Clarke dives onto the bed, bouncing, feeling defeated. He doesn't bother taking his shoes off and falls asleep until eight the next morning. Opening his eyes, Clarke takes out his phone from his back pocket. He's shocked to see a missed call from his mother's cell number but sees a voice message waiting for him.

Concerned at first, Clarke taps the icon and listens to it on speaker, "Clarke! It's mom! I'm doing much better, and I'll be going home soon. Call me when you have a minute; I've missed you, son. Love you!"

Excitement flows through his body, "Hell yes!" Instantly, Clarke calls his mother.

"Son!" She cries out.

"Mom, you sound fizzled!"

Daisy doesn't waste time explaining what happened, "Well, my jaw is wired shut, but I am doing my best. Wade did a number on me, but I've talked to the police. I am sending that piece of shit to jail. He beat and raped me, son. I haven't told your sisters yet, but if I can eat and manage to hold it down, I can go home in a day or two."

Seeing red, Clarke hangs up the phone, dropping it on the bed. Walking outside in the bright morning sun, Clarke feels the humidity soar. With a crazed look, Clarke stands there until he hears a car pull into the parking lot. The familiar rumble of the V8 draws Clarke's attention. He sees Wade's car parked across the lot. Getting out of the passenger's side, a tall skinny woman with long pitch-black curly hair twists it around her shoulders. Wearing a dark blue crop top with a white miniskirt, she walks over to Wade, kissing him on the lips.