The Field by Tracy Richardson Page B

his asking me now feels like another slam. I look to see if I can tell from his expression, but he’s started the car and is looking over his shoulder to back out of the parking space. I decide to just let it go.
    â€œNope. We’re both still hoping to start. He may wait until right before the game like last time, which is crap.”
    â€œYou should be starting. You’re better in the clutch than Brett. He gets rattled when the pressure is on, but that’s when you’re on fire.”
    â€œThanks,” I say, somewhat mollified. “Since Brett’s a senior and he didn’t start last year, I think Swenson is giving him an extra shot, which I guess in theory I support, but not so much when it involves me.”
    â€œSitting on the bench sucks. At least playing is the reward for working our asses off in practice all week.” He stops the car in front of my house. “Adios amigo.”
    â€œSee you.” I get out and slam the door shut. I feel sort of off kilter, like something isn’t right with the Universe. I’m so used to being pretty much in sync with Will—I mean, he’s been my best friend since grade school—but lately, I don’t know what to expect from him. This thing with his dad must be really messing him up.
    I HADN’T PLANNED to say anything about what happened at the plant to my parents, but at dinner that night Marcie blew that idea for me.
    â€œSo, I heard you threw Will to the ground on the field trip to the coal plant today,” she says smugly, taking a bite of food and chewing slowly while she watches for my reaction.
    â€œWhere’d you hear that?” I ask calmly. But I’m wondering how she could possibly know about it.
    â€œThe sister of one of the girls in my algebra class was on the field trip. She sent her a text.”
Figures
.
    â€œWhat happened?” asks my mom, alarmed. “Were you fighting?”
    â€œNo, it wasn’t like that at all,” I say, glaring at Marcie. “Will was just walking in the parking lot and I thought I saw a truck coming, so I pulled him out of the way. I just pulled him a littletoo hard and we both fell onto the pavement. It wasn’t a big deal.”
    â€œOh.” My mom looks relieved. “Are you both okay then?”
    â€œYeah, we’re fine. Just some scrapes from where we fell to the ground.” I hold up my arms and show them the raw patches. “I don’t know why Marcie even brought it up.”
    â€œGross. Do you mind? I’m eating.” Marcie makes a face.
    â€œOkay. That’s enough. We don’t need any bickering at the table,” my mom says. She’s big on having family dinners every night. I’m sure she read in one of her parenting books that it’s important for kids to have family time at the dinner table, which I guess is true, but it’s not like we’re the Brady Bunch, or anything. “I’m glad both you’re both okay. I’d hate to think what could have happened if you hadn’t been there.”
    â€œDid Will’s dad show you around?” my dad asks.
    â€œNo. He was going to come out and talk with us, but he was on an important call and couldn’t get away.”
    â€œHmm … ”
    â€œYou mean he didn’t even come out to see if Will was alright?” says my Mom.
    â€œI guess the call was really important.” I shrug. I wonder if they know anything about what’s going on. It’s not like they’re friends with the Asplunths, but they do know them. I don’t think they’d bring it up at the table with Marcie and Drew around.
    â€œThanks for dinner, Mom, I’m going upstairs to study.” I grab my plate and glass and leave them on the counter for my dad to clean up. My parents aren’t big traditionalists in most things, but my mom cooks and my dad does the dishes. I’m not sure he can even make anything more challenging than