By the Playbook

By the Playbook (26)

                The house smelled like roast chicken. The bird, one of the ones that you got from Costco already cooked, sat in the middle of a small round table, a pot of frozen vegetables next to it. The rolls were slightly stale, the silverware mismatched. The walls were littered with pictures of two dark haired boys, dirty laundry on the couch and dog fur stuck to every chair. It was a normal house, but it seemed almost frumpy against the glamour of the Green house.

Still, I didn't mind. I sat at the table and made slightly forced conversation with a dark haired woman called May. She busied herself making tea and then coffee, and when she had drained a cup, she made a container full of orange juice. She hadn't been expecting a visitor. I hadn't expected it, either.

Things that I had found out from Damien: Tyson Johnson, or T.J. as I knew him, had gone to elementary school with Damien. They hadn't been friends but they hung out occasionally, and T.J. had an older brother named Alec who Damien hadn't particularly liked. They lived in a light blue house on Elmberry Street on the other side of town. They lived with their aunt and uncle; Damien didn't know what had happened to their parents.

Things that I found out myself: Oliver's car drove like a dream and his presets were terrible. The Johnson brothers lived at Number 34. Their neighbours had a blue Persian cat that wore a gold collar and pissed in the rose bushes. Alec's aunt was called May and she wore her stress like some people wore makeup, lines at the corner of her mouth and worry in her eyes. T.J. had once had braces and smiled crookedly because of it. It was a lot harder to be brave when you were in the eyes of someone who loved the one you were angry at.

"So," May said for the fourth time, after she'd finished the orange juice. "You said you're a friend of Alec's?"

I smiled. It felt forced, but it would look real because I wanted it to look real. "Something like that."

It was the wrong thing to say. Her eyes lit up and then she promptly looked at the chicken to hide her smile. "He's a good boy, that one."

I wanted to show her the video. I wanted to whip out my phone and shove the screen in her face and make her see what he had done. I wanted to cry and force her to see my tears, the ones he had caused. I wanted to scream and smash the pictures on her walls. I wanted, but I did none of it.

"He is," I said instead, looking at the clock on the wall. It read half-past five. The Greens would be settling in to eat their dinner, and I wondered if Ryder would join them or if he would stay in his room. My bet was on the latter.

May forced an awkward laugh. "They should be home by now. They just had to wait for Alec to finish football practice."

"Oh, that's okay," I said. "I'm sorry I didn't call, I just really need to talk to Alec and he wasn't answering his phone."

She chuckled. "He's like that when it comes to football. Lives and breathes the sport."

"I know someone like that."

May took a sip of tea. "Between you and me, I think he's worried about the scholarship," she said conversationally. "Playing football in college has been Alec's dream since he started playing. I don't know if he's mentioned it, but there's a boy in the next town that's gunning for it, too."

"And they can't both get it?" I asked, wondering if I should feel bad for taking advantage of someone who didn't know who I was.

May shook her head. "It's very particular. One player per state, if that. Alec's been wearing himself thin trying to be that player."