The Field by Tracy Richardson Page A

and won’t be able to talk with everyone.”
    â€œFigures. Mr. Unreliable,” says Will, who’s sitting a few feet away, which surprises me since he was so actively wanting to avoid his dad earlier. I guess nothing his dad does at this point would be good in Will’s eyes. I’m actually relieved that we won’t be having any confrontations. I’ve had enough excitement for one day.
    A T PRACTICE THAT afternoon, Will and I have to see the trainers to have our ‘injuries’ checked out and to see if we’re okay to practice. There is no way we’re going to let a few scrapes and bruises stop us from practicing. We have a game on Friday and we both want to be in the starting lineup, so we downplay howsore we are. I’m still in competition for the starting spot with Brett, and I don’t want to give him any advantage. Even though it hurts like hell every time I make a save, I go through the whole practice anyway, through gritted teeth. That’s what ibuprofen is for.
    On the way home with Will, I figure this is as good a time as any to see if he wants to talk about his dad. He didn’t say much during the rest of the field trip or on the bus ride home except to give me grief, along with everyone else, about throwing him to the ground. I just tried to blow it off and make a joke out of the whole thing.
    After we get into Will’s car and he turns on some music, he leans his head back in the seat, closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. “What a helluva day. I’m glad that’s over.”
    â€œYeah, me too. So things are pretty bad with your dad?” I venture.
    â€œThey’re non-existent. He just took off. I haven’t seen him except at the soccer game—not that he hasn’t been calling and texting me. I just don’t want to talk to him. My mom’s a mess and my little sister just keeps asking when he’s coming home. I feel like I have to try to hold it together for everyone.” He covers his face with his hands and pushes his fingers into his hair. “Whatever,” he says, blowing air through his pursed lips, and then a moment later he says, “Dammit!” and pounds his hands on the steering wheel.
    â€œI saw him in town about a week ago. He was coming out of a restaurant with someone—a younger woman. I didn’t actually see anything, but it just felt off, not right, you know?”
    â€œIt’s probably this woman he works with. He swears that he’s not having an affair, but I bet he is. Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” He turns on me accusingly.
    â€œI don’t know. I wasn’t really even sure there was anything to tell. I didn’t know what was going on with him at home.”
    â€œYeah, well, next time you see something like that, tell me, will you?” he says angrily and slams the steering wheel again.
    â€œSure, no problem.”
    â€œYou and Renee seem to be pretty tight these days. Is that helping you get in good with Dr. Auberge?” he says with an edge to his voice.
    Now it’s my turn to be pissed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are you suggesting that I’m using Renee for the internship? That’s pretty low.”
    â€œNo.” He leans back against the seat again and blows air through his mouth. “No, I know you’re not using her. Sorry, man. My brain’s rattled these days.” He gives me a rueful smile. “Forget it.”
    I don’t say anything because I’m still pretty hacked off. My hands are clenched in my lap, and I have to consciously relax my shoulders and flex my hands. People say shit like that when they’re angry because there’s a grain of truth to it. Part of Will must actually believe I would do that.
    â€œHas Coach Swenson said anything to you and Brett about who’s starting on Friday?” Maybe I’m just imagining it, since this is something we normally talk about, but