Page 63 of Catching Feelings

“How was practice?” he asks, doing his best to smile. I know he’s genuinely supportive and interested, but today it rankles.

“Fine,” I say warily. I’d rather he do away with the small talk and just drop that other shoe. “How was your day?”

“Fine.” He shifts on his stool, then leans forward. Okay, here we go. Suddenly I’m flashing back to all the other conversations last year when people’s faces got solemn before they tried to break some new horrific piece of news to me. I hate this. “I’ve been on the phone with your dad, who’s been talking to Coach Herman. They’re going to get this sorted out.”

I shake my head, dread dropping into my stomach. They’re talking about it again? How bad are things? “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” I whisper. I’m embarrassed at how weak my voice is. But I’ve had enough—both today, and this year.

“I know you didn’t.” Uncle Mike stands, crossing the kitchen to lay a hand on my shoulder. “That boy has no right to press charges. He’s just worried about his own future and lashing out like a lot of adolescents do.” He looks me in the eye. “Not you, though. Everyone knows you’re the most levelheaded guy out there.”

I have to look away. “Not everyone.”

Blue eyes, blond hair, a drooping bow. Hurt in her eyes, steel in her spine. Keeping a brave face, pretending she hasn’t been crushed.

He shifts so he’s in my eyesight again, holding my gaze with determination. “The people who matter do.”

His words hit harder than he probably intends. Because how do I know who matters? Does this mean Sabrina doesn’t, and I was wrong?

“Let us handle this. Trust me.”

I nod and do my best to look reassured. As soon as he leaves the kitchen, I make myself a hasty sandwich and flee to my room, my thoughts spiraling out of control. I can’t believe I’d actually been optimistic about this year—thinking about scouts and playing in college. Because what happens if Uncle Mike’s wrong and John does press charges? Do I go to jail? Pay a fine I can’t afford? Get kicked off another team? Will the Thompsons let me stay?

Do I even want to stay?

It feels like my whole future is on the line, and it’s entirely out of my own control.

When my phone lights up with a call, I jump. My first pitiful but undeniable thought: Is it Sabrina? Is she calling to apologize?

But it’s Kate.

At first I don’t pick up. The last thing I want is another uncharitable story delivered to me from the Brownsville rumor mill, and this can’t be anything good. She hasn’t earned the right to call me out of the blue.

But then she calls again, and I bite my lip. What if it’s important? What if it’s something I really need to know this time?

“Hello?”

“Tyler! Hi.” Her voice sounds… just like always. I can picture her sprawled across her bed, blue-and-white striped wallpaper above her head. Carlito is curled up beside her, purring and occasionally lazily batting with a zipper on her hoodie; Tony is guarding the door, ears half-perked as he listens for any threat.

I’ve avoided thinking about her for so long, I expect the mental image to bring a pang of longing with it. But it doesn’t. Just the dim, distant nostalgia for a life that doesn’t belong to me anymore.

She clears her throat to break the awkward silence. “So… How’re you doing?”

I let the long pause answer her. Is she serious? “How do you think?” My voice is calm on the surface, but there’s a current of anger beneath it.

I can almost hear her wince. “Yeah. That’s why I’m calling. So—”

“Listen, Kate.” I interrupt. “If you’re calling to pass on another rumor, let me tell you, that’s the last thing I want to hear tonight—”

“That’s exactly it,” she says, an edge of exasperation in her voice. “I’m calling because I needed to tell you I’ve listened to the rumors way too much. John’s been such an asshole this year, okay? Sure, he can’t play, and that sucks, but he’s taking it out on everyone. You’re not the only one he’s blaming. He’s saying Dylan came after him last spring—”

“Dylan was provoked.” My voice is hot with anger. “I told you, the things John was saying—you can’t expect a guy to keep his calm when someone’s running their mouth about your sister—”

“I know, Tyler, I remember. And now that it’s all come up again and he won’t let it go, I’m wondering if I was just as much of an asshole for believing his version of events.”

I don’t have a comeback for that one, and the line falls silent between us. Is she saying what I think she’s saying?

She forges on, undaunted by the quiet on my end. “I never should have listened to him. I should’ve believed your side of the story.”

A few months ago, this would have been everything I dreamed of hearing. But now…