“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t care about it, Julian,” he says, chuckling. “You know you can talk to me. Always got time for you.”

“It’s still this prank business,” I say, sitting down and pulling a bag of granola bites and a yogurt from my bag.

“Oh? I thought I heard that you were going to try to stop that from happening this year?”

“Pressure from the guys,” I say. “Not to mention Camille. I guess a bunch of the guys went to her to complain about me when I tried to stop it all. I don’t want the team to hate me. Especially over something so ridiculous.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Figg exhales through his nose like he’s thinking of the perfect words to use. “Why were you fighting it so hard? These pranks… why didn’t you want to participate?”

I take a deep breath and prop myself up against a desk at the front of the room. I lower my backpack to the floor because I know this is going to be a longer conversation than I anticipated having with Figg this afternoon.

“I just want him to be proud, you know?” I say, mostly to the floor.

“Your dad?”

“Yeah. He was this great stand-up guy that everyone loved, and here’s me… I’m just kind of… I don’t know.”

“Hey, look at me,” Figg says.

I raise my eyes to meet his.

“Don’t put him on a pedestal. He was a regular guy just like me. Just like you. I know he would be damn proud of you right now. Prank or no prank. Damn proud,” Figg says quietly.

“I don’t want do anything that might get anyone in trouble. Imagine if I planned a prank and someone got hurt? Or someone lost a scholarship or got blackballed from all-conference or something? Or what if it’s me? What if some college scout gets wind of some dumb prank I pulled and won’t come give me a look after that?” The words tumble out into the air between Figg and me.

“Hey, whoa, slow down,” Figg says quietly, coming around to the other side of his desk and sitting on top of it.

“Things can get out of control really quickly. I don’t want to take chances. Not with the guys and not with myself… not with any of it,” I tell him, finally taking a deep breath.

“You’re right. Sometimes things can get out of control without that ever being anyone’s intention. But things can get out of control even when you’re doing something mundane, Julian. That’s just the way life goes sometimes. You can’t control everything. And sometimes it’s how you recover from those kinds of things that teaches you the most about yourself. About how much you can handle. About your ability to lead,” Figg says. “Does that make sense?”