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Yeah, he did. He promised. And he kept it…
Wow, I thought to myself, determination flows through that boy’s veins just as potently as the terror that flows through mine.
Just like with that game on the PlayStation, she was kicking my ass. When she told me about the bullying, something I regrettably already knew, I felt something snap inside of me. It felt the last piece of my resolve evaporating.
I just wanted her. For keeps.
Everyone from Royce College sucked. Seriously, they were pathetic. The game was delayed for over two hours because the coaches from Royce threw a very public hissy fit over Johnny playing.
Early on in the game, it became clear why the Royce coach was so against letting Johnny play. His team was terrible. Well, maybe not terrible, but they were no match for a fired-up Tommen side.
It was a blur of movements that resulted in him grounding the ball seconds before a stampede of opposition players crushed him. The try was awarded. The team began to celebrate. But he wasn’t getting back up.
The screaming and cheering had turned to hushed whispers as everyone watched on.
I didn’t understand my reaction and I didn’t care. He was okay. He was alright. And I could finally breathe again.
“You’re killing yourself. You do realize that, right? You do understand that you are putting your entire life on the line for a fucking green jersey that doesn’t mean shit in the long run.”
“That should have healed weeks ago,” he hissed. “It’s March, Johnny. Fucking March, and you’re walking around with your leg half-open.”
The summer campaign. The U20s. I could feel it slipping through my fingers. Everything was being taken from me. And I couldn’t deal with it.
Oh god. My heart sank. I knew he shouldn’t play. I knew he was hurt. I knew it and I did nothing.
Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Nothing except finding him.
“It’s weird to hear you say ‘fucker,’” he explained with a weary smile. “I’m quite partial to cursing, you know,” I told him, desperately trying to distract him from his pain. “No, you’re not,” he replied gruffly, too clever for his own good. “You’re just saying that to distract me.” “Is it working?” He nodded stiffly. “Don’t stop.”
The conversation seemed to be distracting him from his pain and I was glad. His shoulders weren’t nearly so tense anymore, and the more we talked, the more the stiffness in his frame evaporated.
Dropping my head back on my pillow, I bit down on my fist and smothered my cry.
i feel so fcking bad for johnny
“If you do not make it this summer, then you do not make it this summer,” he repeated. “You are still Johnny Kavanagh. You are still an honor student. You are still a good man. And you are still my best decision.”
“Say you don’t make it in June,” Dad continued to say, voicing my worst nightmare out loud. “It’s devastating. Your mother and I understand. You might not think we do, but we brought you into this world, and every single painful moment in your life that you endure, and every obstacle you stumble over, we’re there, Johnny. We’re right behind you, feeling everything. Your pain and frustration and fears. It’s all mirrored back to us. Your achievements are ours and your heartache is ours. Because you are all we have, Johnny. Just you. That’s it.”
i get why johnny lied to his parents but know i understand how concerned they mustve felt
“They are furious with you,” Dad replied, not mincing his words. “Which is to be expected when the number-one-ranked center in the country almost ends his career before his eighteenth birthday.”
gosh his career is cooked
I could pull this back from the edge. I could do it. My dad thought I could do it.
“No, it’s yours,” he agreed, again stinging me with the truth. “But, you’re young and green and stubborn, and I’m supposed to be there to rein you in. I will be there, Johnny,” he added then. “More.”
“And Gibsie?” “He’s in the canteen,” he replied with a smile. “The girl behind the counter is after catching his eye.” “I bet,” I muttered. Horny fucker.
gibsie and his flirting…
“No. She stayed with you,” Dad corrected. “When you were demented out of your head and anyone in their right mind would have run for the hills, that girl stayed right by your bedside, listening to you talk out of your arse.”
My father. My father. What was I missing here?
