Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
She didn’t miss a beat.
That’s what I loved about my baby sister. She was always quick to catch on, even though some of those times I didn’t want her inside my brain knowing my every thought.
The moment she was gone, I gave a quick look at all the parents.
None of them had said a word, and they were all waiting for me to give a pep talk that I’d been intending to give to their sons.
Well, I wouldn’t be doing that. Not after all the bullshit I’d just heard.
I turned to the team.
“I’ve never been more disappointed in a team of young men than right now.”
A few of the parents, as well as the players, inhaled deeply, surprised that I’d say that. I was a very positive person…normally.
Right then, though? I was fucking pissed.
“Coach…” Coach Casper from somewhere behind me said, sounding worried.
I turned my gaze on her and let her know with only a single look to shut it.
She closed her mouth and looked to the principal who was readying herself to interrupt. So I forged forward and let the boys know exactly what I felt about their actions.
“Johnson, do you know the definition of bully?” I asked.
Johnson, my smart nephew, blinked in confusion.
“Uh, a person that picks on someone?” he asked.
I turned to Banks. “What about you? What do you think bully means?”
“When you intimidate a person?” he offered.
I gritted my teeth, then pointed at Johnson. “You are a bully.” I turned to Banks. “You are a bully.”
I repeated that, over and over again, until I had pointed at every single person that I saw engaging in the torture of the kid.
And it was torture. Their pointing and laughing, although harmless in theory, was devastating to that poor kid. A kid that’d gone through quite enough and shouldn’t have to deal with the shit my team had just laid at his feet.
“A bully is not tolerated on my team. Now, every one of you will sit there and watch the junior varsity team play for you. Then, you will go take that uniform off and get out of my stadium. Think about what you did and meet me at the track on Tuesday. I don’t want to see or hear from you until then.”
“But Coach, there are still three innings…” Rhodes started.
I held my hand up, disgusted. “The junior varsity will play for you.”
With that, I walked to the younger boys—who’d won their game played before this one—and gestured the other coach over.
“You mind if I allow my JV team to play? They need the practice and the reward. We’ll forfeit the game,” I said to the other coach.
He nodded once. “I saw what happened. Brutal but effective.”
I shrugged. I didn’t want to talk about it to be honest.
I also needed to go get Raleigh, but I had three more innings to get through before that happened.
Allowing my JV to play had been a spur of the moment thought. And honestly, they looked excited as hell to be doing it. The bragging rights alone were going to burn for months.
This game, the senior game, was a big deal. It was the last home game that the seniors would ever play in this stadium. The next time they arrived, it would be as a guest, not a player.
I had a feeling that in about forty-five minutes, I’d be hearing it from the superintendent, the principal, as well as almost all of the senior parents.
Yeah, this was going to be fun…not.
***
Raleigh
I hovered next to the exit, standing next to Morgan who was as stiff as a board in his seat.
He did not look happy to have to wait for his ride, and even more, he could hear a few of the girls snickering about what had just happened behind him.
I wanted to throat punch every single one of them.
Though, with both the principal of the high school and the superintendent of the entire district at the game only a few hundred yards away, I was not going to act on my instincts—which was give the girls a piece of my mind.
Instead, I stayed next to Morgan and tried to think of something to say that would make him understand that it was okay.
“In high school,” I said. “The senior class voted me as prom queen. The guy I had a crush on took a girl, my arch nemesis, to the prom. And she went out of her way to spill punch on me and my dress. It wasn’t just a glass of punch, it was the whole punch bowl. She then informed me that the only reason my date asked me was so I’d be there to accept my award. The punch was spur of the moment—but that decision cost me eight hundred dollars that I didn’t have since I was forced to pay for the dress which was a rental. I was made the laughing stock of the school.”