The second I heard the strangled little “oooff” from the wide receiver, I knew we were in trouble. Well, Jules was in trouble. He was the quarterback for Clearwater Valley High, he had been for the past three seasons, and he’d just thrown a pass that was so long and so hard, it hardly seemed possible. It was possible, but it wasn’t normal. The second I heard the sound the receiver made on contact, I knew he was hurt. Badly. He hadn’t been quick enough to stop the ball with his hands and it had connected his chest dead center. I was no medical professional. I didn’t need to be. Everyone knows the sound of ribs cracking.

Jules’s mom was sitting next to me in the bleachers. She clamped both hands over her mouth. “Oh, God, oh, God, oh God,” she whispered.

That night Jules and his parents were invited down to the pack house for a meeting with Dalton. I waited outside on the step, and when he came out, we walked up the hill and into the woods. We sat in the clearing where Jules and I used to build forts out of sticks when we were younger. The forts were long gone. All that was left in their wake was soft grass and two big logs my dad had helped us move one afternoon when we were nine. We didn’t talk for a long time. Every now and then, Jules sighed deeply. After a while, he lay back and stared up at the night sky. I did the same. When I looked over at him, I saw a silvery streak leak from the corner of his eye and run across his temple and into his hair. My reaction was instant and intense. It was hot. Boiling. It was the strongest reaction I’d ever had to anything. It was rage; that was what it was. The strength of it propelled me up to a sitting position.

“He can’t do this.” My voice wasn’t my own. It was hoarse and sounded like it came from way lower down than my larynx. “He can’t fucking do this to you.”

Jules put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently. After a second, pressure neutralized the heat in my body. “He’s not wrong, Sully. It sucks fucking hard.” His voice faltered. “But Dalton’s not wrong. I have an unfair advantage. I hurt someone. Someone on my own team. I didn’t even mean to throw the ball that hard. I was into the game, and I lost my concentration. I forgot to rein myself in for a second and I hurt someone. I’m getting stronger. It’s only going to get harder.”