Rules Of The Game: Book 1

37; Easier Said Than Done

𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟾𝚝𝚑, 𝚃𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢
Miles POV

There's this dumb phrase that white folks use, something along the lines of 'the world is your oyster.' I was rarely told those words as a kid, and honestly, I've never really understood what it meant.

Not until I met Parker. I didn't believe I could achieve anything I wanted in life or make a difference. That's until our two worlds collided. His impact on me opened my eyes to a world of possibility.

Because if I could land the guy of my dreams, then I sure as hell could find a passion in this life outside of slinging drugs and illegally racing cars. I don't have to be my father.

With this awareness tucked away in my back pocket, it's easy to be optimistic this afternoon as I stroll down to the football field. Usually, I'd be on my way home by now, but this might be the last time I can watch Parker practice before a big game.

I scan the field as I follow the sidewalk down the hill. Aside from the different numbered jerseys, it's difficult to tell who's who out there. Greyson has all the boys decked out in their full gear while running suicide sprint drills.

My heart overheats simply by watching them sprint, stop on a yard line, pivot, and sprint in the other direction. They're lucky it's another cold day. Otherwise, those coaches would be calling the hospital while the boys flopped on the ground like fish out of water.

There's a reason why I stick with basketball: our uniform is a thin jersey and shorts. Not a set of medieval armor.

The sounds of cleats tearing up the turf, clunking gear, and cursing, huffing boys get louder as I approach the field and follow the chain link fence down where Greyson and one of his assistant coaches are parked.

"Working hard or hardly working?" I tease Greyson as I approach, eyeing the giant, hot Starbucks cup in his hand as he lounges in a folding lawn chair.

The assistant coach looks at me like he wants to scold me for not showing the adults respect while Greyson raises his cup at me in acknowledgment.

"My days of suicide sprints are done, kid. Trust me when I say I'm glad I'm not the one out there doing that anymore." Greyson takes a sip from his cup and turns his head to look at me. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

I shrug and slide my hands into my sweatshirt's front pocket, watching all the boys run back and forth. It's easy to pick out Parker now that I'm closer to the field: his gait and cadence speak for themselves. Plus, it looks like he, Griffin, and Kendric are hauling ass in an unspoken race.

"Just thought I'd stop by. Mrs. Connor held me to talk after economics. Something about how I should start staying after school on Thursdays. Since my grade is so good, I could participate in an extra-credit project that I turn in to the state school board for a scholarship."

Greyson nods, and I can tell from the smile tugging on his lips that he's impressed with me. "That's a pretty serious opportunity and a great one at that! The state isn't stingy with that scholarship money. Why do you have to think about that?"

The breath catches in my lungs as I remember the fight my mom and I got into last night before I hung up on her. And I never dare to hang up on her. This time though, it was justified.