The whole table is in tears while Bucky talks about the piglets, and even I let a laugh or two escape. He talks through almost the entire lunch period, which means I never have to turn my head to look at Julian.

It doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about him, though.

My strategy for history class is more of the same. Keep my earbuds in, keep my head down, get my work done. Luckily, Mrs. Nguyen only assigns silent reading and some study questions for the class period. I sit in the back corner of the room and completely ignore Julian’s attempts to get my attention.

I can’t run away in the locker room, though, and Julian corners me while I’m tightening my pads for practice.

“Why are you so pissed at me?” he asks, out of breath and sounding exasperated.

I look up at him.

“If anyone should be pissed, it’s me!” he says when I don’t respond. “Everything I ever thought I knew about my own father is basically a lie.” He considers that statement and then shakes his head a little bit. “Okay, maybe not everything, but some of the most important stuff.”

“Yeah? And how’s that feel?”

Julian just blinks.

“And how do you think it would feel to be told that, just kidding, it wasn’t your father’s fault the football team fell from grace twenty years ago! Whoopsie! The whole town hates you because of it, but nope—it actually wasn’t his fault! As a matter of fact, things could have turned out very differently if his best friend hadn’t been a big liar. Do you know how much shit Frankie and I have had to go through just because we’re Eric Vance’s kids? Maybe things wouldn’t have turned out any different. Maybe my dad would’ve still made the same choices and screwed up anyway. But what if he hadn’t? What if that football game was the tipping point?”

Julian’s shoulders fall and his eyes search my face. He reaches his hand out and touches my elbow. “The whole town doesn’t hate you—”

I yank my arm back. “Don’t touch me.”

“Elijah.” His voice is soft. “Nobody hates you. And nobody judges you because they think your dad got in a fight—”

“I gotta go,” I say to him, strapping my helmet under my chin and running toward the field. I can’t handle looking at him anymore or talking to anyone. I just have to put my head down and make it through this practice.