The seniors were gods and I did whatever the hell I needed to in order to stay a member of the team. Bruised, possibly broken bones didn’t stop me from showing up every single time—except once, and I’d learned my lesson after that.

They were the closest thing I had to a family, and not making waves was the difference between riding the bench and getting cut. Pretending all the shit they talked about were things I had to deal with too. Not that I fixed dents in people’s cars so their parents wouldn’t find out, so I could eat and keep the heating on, not for money to score beers from someone’s older brother.

Early on, I learned not to talk about what I dealt with at home. It only led to more questions, people snooping around and the threat of being sent away where I wouldn’t even have my football family. But with only a little over two months left until graduation, the pretending was getting harder. The cracks between me and them got wider.

Bay zoomed past all the cars on her bike. The bright yellow helmet was unmistakable. She didn’t give a shit about all the fakeness. There was no slow roll by to see who was here and who wasn’t. If anything, she biked past like it was the last place she wanted to be. I couldn’t help envying that sometimes. An escape into anonymity sounded right, but I had to either be a name or make a name for myself to stand out. Otherwise, I’d miss out on what came next, and the final step of going pro.

I flung the ball in my hands to Knox. “Grab my bag from the car. I’ll meet you inside.”

“Where are you going?” His voice boomed through the rows of cars.

“Lock my car.” I shouted over my shoulder, weaving my way past the designated junior parking spots.

I’d been hanging in my garage more than I should, waiting to hear her sing again, but the songbird had stopped.

She threaded the bike rack to the stand beside the side door.

“Bay, hold up.”

She whirled around, stumbling and nearly flipping over the thigh-high bike rack.

My hands shot out, steadying her by the shoulders.

She blew her hair out of her face and stared at me with wide eyes before looking over her shoulder.

“I’m fine. You can go talk to whoever you were trying to talk to.” She shrugged her shoulders and I let my hands fall back to my sides.

“It was you.”

“What was me?” Her gaze dipped and she fidgeted with her backpack straps and clipped her helmet to the carabiner dangling from one side.

“Who I was trying to talking to.”

She squinted, peering up at me through one eye. Her nose scrunched up, highlighting the faint freckles across the bridge. “Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

Her snort told me I did.

“I don’t do homework for pay. This is what I look like without these.” She pulled off her glasses, batting her eyes at me. They were brown, but not any brown. They reminded me of brownies or chocolate cake. She shoved them back up the bridge of her nose.