“Except Iknowwhy you got into that fight. Everyone on the team knows why you got into that fight. And when some of the seniors and juniors start asking me about that boy who’s always here for you at our games, the one whois stillwearing your jacket, about what you are, what am I supposed to tell them? Because this Piña, nah, I don’t have his back. The one who was doing what he was told, who was every bit the player I was told you were, is he still even here?
“When I told you what to do and then sixty minutes later, someone is dogging on you,when I told youthat you were asking for trouble, I wanted to see him beat the shit out of you. Maybe if he had, you’d be better at listening to me. At watching out for yourself and everything that the you of a couple months ago wanted. Maybe you would’ve seen yourself moving too far fromyour own goalpost and had the smarts to get back where you belong.”
My hands go from squeezing my skin to sitting on my legs, fisted tight. “I’ve listened to everything you’ve told me. When I’m on the pitch, I’m yours, Cap.”
“But the problem is, you don’t stop being a member of my team when your cleats stop touching the grass. And it’s then that’s making me worried. That needs an explanation.”
I’m for real in Plato’s cave story right now. And Barrera is another prisoner, down there in the dark, threatened by me. By change. Nah. He’s running the whole cave.
He’s one of the guys who would tie me back up, or worse, because I dared to be better. He only wants to drag me down and keep me there because he’s scared me leaving means everyone else decides they’re done too. That they want out. And he’d be all alone.
And for the sake of everything I’ve worked for, I’ve got to act like I’m on his side. I’ve got to offer my wrists and my ankles and let him chain me back up. Even if it’s just for a few more weeks. Even if the thought really does make me sick to my stomach. And even if it’s just pretend.
“Then tell me what you want. What do I have to do to prove to you that I am still that same rookie who just wants the chance to be great? Not because I’m looking for attention, but because I care about this squad, and I want this team—all of us—to succeed. I want you to leave this team as captain of the best group of guys in the whole country.”
Maybe that’s the part two Plato never got to tell. The ending I’ve got to write for him. We know the prisoner’s escaped his chains once. So we’ve also got to believe he can do it again. That everything he’s learned and discovered will push him to do it. He’s just got to wait for the right time.
Barrera looks me in the eyes, and I don’t move an inch. I stay locked on him too. I want him to convince himself I’m on board.And that I mean those words. Because I do. Nothing about that was a lie. I’ve just got to hope he’s not seeing anything or caring about anything past that final championship game.
He takes another breath, giving me a nod and a smirk. “Alright. Good. First thing then is I never want to see that boy in the stands, at our games, for the rest of the season.”
Swallow down the anger. Don’t let him see me get pressed about him never having the decency to at least say Vale’s name (though, honestly, I’d probably get more mad if Vale’s name came out of his mouth). Don’t let him see how I want to tell him to fuck off with this ask. Calm down faster than he’d be able to sense any disturbance, so that I can tell him, as much as I was looking forward to seeing Vale cheer me on at the conference finals match—
“Yeah. Sure. Fine. I’ll tell him not to come to the game.”
“And get your jacket back. I’m telling the entire team I want to see us wearing them on Saturday.Everyone.”
“Okay. I’ll get my jacket back.”
Barrera takes a slow glance around, looking like he’s biting the inside of his cheek as he nods. “And, yes or no. You gay?”
“No.”
Not a lie.
“Are you fucking that boy of yours?”
“No.”
Could be any boy. Could be talking about Pérez. We definitely aren’t.
“You wish you were?”
Right now? With Vale? Yeah. That’d be a lot better than being here.
“We’re just friends, Cap—”
“Yes or no.”
“No.”
“And you don’t got feelings for him?”
“I told you, we’re just—”
“Piña.Yes or no.”
This one hurts. Letting out the “no” hurts.
