“Okay,” I say, unable to recall a time where he’s looked and sounded more serious than now. “Swear to God, man. Just tell me.”

“Blocking the scholarship isn’t what made me walk. What made me walk was when I caught Horton hitting on Mom.”

“What?” My jaw nearly drops to my knees. “When?”

“It was during one of the summer work days, when the parents and players clean up the field and paint the goal posts. Somehow he managed to get her alone in the storage room beneath the stands … well, alone until I walked in to put away some paint cans and saw them. I’m just standing there, figuring he can see me, but he obviously didn’t, because the next thing I know he’s pulling her toward him and has his hands all over her. I swear if I’d had a gun I would’ve shot him right in his fat gut.”

“Don’t even tell me Mom gave in to him.”

“Oh, no,” he says with a smile. “She kneed him in the balls and ran out of there. That’s when she saw me.” He shakes his head and looks down. “God, Horton was on the ground in total pain, and I so wanted to at least get one kick in, but I knew I had to catch Mom, which is exactly what I did.” He pauses. “We drove around for a while until she got it all out, then she made me promise never to tell Dad. I quit the next day. That surprised Mom, me quitting, because we never talked about me doing that. But she never asked me about it, either.”

He’s about to leave the bathroom when I say, “One thing I don’t get. Why does Mom want me to play for that idiot after what he did to her?”

“That part’s easy, Zach. She’s trying to save her marriage.”

“You mean it’s that bad?” A sour, pit-like feeling spreads through my stomach.

Justin nods. “She can’t take much more of Dad. All he does is sit around and drink and smoke. Start looking at things, like the fact that Mom barely smokes or drinks anymore.” He shakes his head. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m starting to think she deserves better than him.”

“Think they’ll split up?”

“I don’t know, but prepare yourself, because if they do it’ll be ugly.” He turns and exits, saying over his shoulder, “And don’t forget my beer tonight. I’ll be at the Dumpster at eleven thirty.”

“Wait. Justin?”

He sticks his head back inside. “What’s up?”

“Knowing what I do now, I can’t blame you for quitting. But don’t get stuck here.”

He forces a smile. “I’ll do my best.”

But the way he looks off to his right when he says it makes me doubt him.