Page 67 of Dirty Roulette

Chapter forty-nine

Ryder

Itrudge into the locker room at halftime hurling my helmet at the lockers. Crunching metal echoes off the wall. “Fuck!” I cry out and slump to the bench with one hand raking through my hair. Body odor fills the thick air. Teammates scatter around, chugging water, and others get taped up.

“What the hell is happening out there?” Jared points his helmet at me.

Sweat drenches every strand of hair on top of his head.

“Brody has every opportunity to pass you the ball and he doesn’t.

Then when you are surrounded, he throws it at you, and you can't catch the damn ball! It’s like he’s doing it on purpose just to get you benched in the next quarter!

” I chew the inside of my cheek. I shouldn’t even be on the field.

“And then you could have intercepted that play! You’ve never been this off before! ”

My head spins thinking that cleats on the turf, and catching a damn ball was all that I ever wanted.

People cheering when I’m on the Jumbotron in the endzone has been my life.

It’s the only thing I have ever known. My dad bought me my first set of cleats when I was barely in kindergarten.

I’d play football all year round up until I graduated high school.

I stare at the floor, black mold cakes around the cold tiles, and it offers no comfort. Jared’s lecturing fades, his voice and the sound of cleats clacking turn into white noise. Jared is animated, his hands flailing, fire in his eyes as he’s only thinking about the field and the awful scoreboard.

My head is nowhere near the game. All I can think about is Payton’s face. The ache in her opal eyes tearing me limb from limb knowing our video was posted. She was told he was gonna force me to leave her.

I’d give anything to rewind time like those old video cassettes. Take those picture frames and reorder them. Something yanks me out of my body, my brain fading into blackness like a movie theater. Moments with Payton run through my head on replay.

I’m back in elementary, top dog of the fifth-grade boys.

She’s a second-grader playing tag with my sister on the playground.

She had a gap between her two front teeth, one tooth was bigger than the other.

I said something mean. Charlie and her were a blubbery mess, and a teacher wagged a finger at me out in the hallway about being kind.

My memories morph, twisting into something else. My sneakers stomped on the sidewalk holding one handlebar teaching Payton how to ride a bike without training wheels. I let her go, and she’s flying down the road, the bike wobbling side to side as she pedals.

I’m in middle school, feeling weird in my own skin.

Hair on my legs. Voice cracking. I don’t like it.

Charlie and Payton would storm into my bedroom in the middle of the night, pulling off my covers.

They’d convince me to go swimming, and we’d cannonball into the pool when Mom and Dad weren’t home.

Which was always. It was just us living life, unsupervised.

I miss making macaroni in the kitchen, standing in the puddle of pool water dripping from my swim trunks.

It floods back. Being a junior in high school.

Payton sitting on the barstool in the kitchen wearing a pair of sweatpants too big for her.

She’s sobbing, wiping boogers on her hand telling me about Kyle and the rumor rampaging across the school like a vicious wildfire.

I’m tossing my old football jersey at her, and it plopped on top of her head.

I pick her up the next day, making sure every damn soul sees me kissing her on top of her forehead.

Senior year hits, and my prom date decided to dip and found someone else to take her.

I had an extra ticket, and the corsage I bought.

Charlie dolled up Payton, curling her hair and throwing a black glitter bomb dress on her.

Somewhere in the thousands of pictures I’ve posted online, there is one with us dancing under the dim lights and me kissing her on the forehead.

I’ll love her ‘til my coffin drops.

I snap out of it, my soul sucks back into my body like a vacuum.

No matter what I do, or what memory I savor from the past. I’m stuck here on this cold metal bench in a locker room reeking of bleach and feet.

This stupid game of Roulette has reigned for the last four years of my life.

Each time I try to break the chain another link is attached to it.

I’ll never dig myself out of the debt I owe. Brody will keep playing it.

Jared still spits at me. “Ryder!” He hollers and I meet his eyes, and he can see right through me like a glass house. “We are going to lose the game if you don’t get your shit together!”

“I don’t care anymore...”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m done playing Roulette, and if it means I never touch a damn ball again. I don’t care, he’s not taking Payton from me.”

“Seriously, that’s where your head is at?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. Coach Storm's voice cuts through the noise, huddling up everyone. I stand. My legs are like lead as I join the circle. I try to focus, to find the spark that once ignited my bloodstream, but it’s buried beneath layers of regret and years of Roulette dragging me down the wrong road.

“Y'all are letting them win! Your emotions are dominating the field!” He’s trying to pump us up by making a turnaround. “You all look like you’ve already lost!”

I know. The other team is eating it all up too. Brody quirks up his eyebrows, biting his bottom lip, and shaking his head at me.

“Shut the fuck up Coach!” Brody snaps, crossing his arms. “Maybe if this fucker gets his head out of his ass we could actually score a touchdown!” He points his finger at me as he laughs.

The cocky smile showcases his enjoyment of the show I’m putting on the stage.

“Explain to us what the hell that was out there!” His voice ricochets off the tile walls.

It’s written all over his face. There is not a care in the world if we win or not.

The devil is in the look of his eyes. He wants me to face-plant in the mud.

“You’re the fucking problem. You fucking hazed me and half of these guys for the last four years!

” I storm forward shoving him against the lockers with a loud clang.

Done. My knuckles turn white. The locker room turns eerily silent, and it makes my skin prickle.

It’s only the hum of the fluorescent lights flickering overhead.

“You think you can just keep showing me up in front of everyone!” Brody pushes me back. My heart hammers.

I point a finger at him. “You’ve had an ego since day one! You want eyes focused on you and your fucking dad’s wallet does it for you!” The spit is flying out of my mouth. “Admit it, I was always competition and you know damn well I had a better chance of being drafted than you!”

“What the fuck are you talking about Crab?” One of the linemen uses a hand to tell me to cut it. But I’ve already decapitated my head off and rage is all that is left. If I’m going to drown, all of them are sinking with me.

Coach cocks his head, his brows narrow as his eyes dart back and forth. “What the hell are y’all talking about?”

“Tell him Brody! Tell Coach about Dirty Roulette!” Brody dips his head to the side as I yell it out, he’s licking his lips.

His fists clenched at his sides. “Tell him how every year you forced Cheer Phi to steal booze for you! How you blackmailed us. How you post videos of the team fucking those girls from behind! Tell him how you raped my sister and forced me to retract my statement! You posted videos of my girlfriend online for her to be harassed! My moments with her aren’t for your entertainment, but for me and her alone!

I’m not leaving her, I don’t give a shit if I never touch a ball again! You’re a bastard!”

All hell breaks loose. Brody’s fist comes flying to my face, I barely have time to duck.

His punch lands on the lockers behind me with a loud thud.

The vibrations ran down my back. I swing back, my fist connecting with his jaw.

A shockwave radiates through my arm, the scars on my knuckles splitting open, bleeding again.

Brody recovers faster than I expected and tackles me to the ground.

We hit the floor with a heavy thump and the air is knocked out of my lungs.

We roll around, fists flying, grunts and curses fill the air.

The metallic taste of blood floods my mouth and he pins me to the floor.

Knuckles strike into my lips and each punch makes the world go black.

I ram a knee into his groin guard until it’s knocked out of place, and I ram right into his balls.

I get a split second to push him off and I scramble to my feet.

He stands up just as fast, wiping blood from his nose. “You’re going to regret this,” he growls.

“I got nothing left to lose, you little bitch!”

He lunges at me.