Football players are assholes. I know; I'm related to their king. My older, and annoyingly overprotective, brother Jake is the star quarterback at Santa Cruz High School. I love him but hate living in his shadow. Everyone worshiping the air he breat...
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My other three apologies this week, using the same language that Chloe accepted by Chloe and Kendall ignored, were less dramatic. Given the circumstances, I couldn't have asked for better reactions.
Alexis Martin changed her nickname to Alex to distance herself from her embarrassingly low score. She threw the most heat back at me. I took every word she hurled and apologized again. Her blue eyes were wild with untamed emotion, her chest heaved with raspy breaths, and her lips parted. After my third mumbled, "I'm sorry," her mouth snapped closed, her eyes studied me for a few tense moments outside her English class, and she nodded.
Janelle Thoms filled her water bottle at a fountain and tossed it in my face. I ran one hand over the drips that tickled my cheeks, apologized again, and she mumbled back she hadn't expected that and stomped away.
Christina Torres was the most difficult to speak with. Her friends erected a security circle around her. Once I apologized to each of them, Christina stood with tears streaming down her cheeks. It was enough of a reaction that one of her friends slugged me in the gut. I clutched the sore area while they escorted her away without a glance back.
"Guess I deserved that," I mumbled to their retreating high-fives and over-the-shoulder glares at me. I tried.
By Wednesday, the 'Logan Hightower apology tour' gossip thankfully was wiped out by game excitement. I used the same leverage and benched Bryce and everyone else whose mouth spewed the word 'game' that wasn't referring to Friday's matchup. Coach Williams raised an eyebrow at six guys riding the bench by Thursday's practice, but they got the hint without me punching anyone. I told Coach a personal conduct issue had come to my attention and required me to handle it myself. Once I promised they'd play, he took my word with a silent nod. I'd never prevent them from playing in a game but ensured each benched ass squired from uncertainty if they played.
"Bold move," Josh teased and tipped his sweat-soaked head to the clean guys scowling and holding up the wall while the rest of us changed. I grunted and shook my head. Being manipulative and exploiting their weakness to force compliance was uncomfortable for me. I didn't want to be a militant, 'my way or get off the team' guy, but they'd forced my hand and shot my patience to shit.
I scrubbed my damp hair with a towel and grabbed my phone. "Thanks for the reminder."
Me: No more games, guys. Focus on the season. Scholarships.
The team, coaches, and staff knew the weight of this Friday's game. Our rivalry against Santa Cruz was critical to the school, the community, and the guys. Recruiters from multiple colleges were coming, including UCLA and USC. Most guys were interested in one or both powerhouse football programs.
Most, but not me. I hadn't told anyone, including Mom, about my early admission applications for Harvard, Yale, Princeton, and Cornell. The Admissions offices were surprised, but all four Athletic Departments were interested. Based on my conversation with Ellie, her applications were also submitted.
