Page 3 of Safe (King’s Heart #1)

“Danny! Get the hell up! You’re going to make us all late.”

I yank the covers off of my brother. He immediately flips over and glares at me. “Why are you so annoying?” he growls.

I smile sweetly back at him. “Because I love you and care about your education. Now get changed and brush your teeth, then go sit at the table. Gwen is already there.”

I hear some more grumbling under his breath as he heads to the closet to change. He’s always been kind of grumpy in life, but turning thirteen really dialed it up.

I jump over Gwen’s bed on the floor and take the few steps to get back to the kitchen just in time to flip the eggs before they burn.

Gwen happily sits at our rickety kitchen table, coloring and bobbing her head to some song she made up.

Her hair swings wildly as her singing gets louder, drawing my attention to how crooked her pigtails are.

“Shit, girl. Let me fix them one more time.” I sigh as I take out her hair and try to make them more even.

“That’s okay, Landon. My teacher last year said it gives me character,” she happily chirps at me while coloring in a tree on her paper.

“Well, that’s just something teachers say to the poor kids,” I mutter under my breath right as the toast pops up from the toaster.

“Huh?”

“Nothing, Gwenny.” I finish her hair, squatting a bit to see it at eye-level. “Eh. Looks better,” I say while patting her back, then turn around to plate up the eggs and toast.

Danny comes stumbling out of his room still rubbing his eyes.

“Mom home?” he croaks around all the sleep still in his voice, sitting down next to Gwen.

“Not yet. But I’m sure she’ll be here any second.” That’s what I tell myself every morning. Ever since she was fired from the Caldwell house and returned to her old job, deciding it was the only thing she could offer the world.

She will be here. But there’s always that little anxious fear in the back of my brain that this is the time she’ll end up dead in a ditch somewhere.

I sit down next to them, my own breakfast plate in front of me. Nausea eats at my gut the longer I stare at the food. I take a bite of the dry toast, and even that makes me want to puke.

Apparently, trying to trick my brain into thinking today isn’t a big deal is not working at all, because my body is still telling me that it’s nervous as hell.

“What’s wrong?” Danny asks around a mouthful of eggs. “Nervous about being bullied by the cool, rich kids?”

I breathe out a tiny laugh before taking another bite of toast. “You know, you get to be more of a shithead the older you get.”

He smiles and turns his attention back to shoveling food into his mouth. “But you are, right?”

I shrug, taking my triangle of toast and poking at the eggs. “I just wanna play football, get a scholarship, and get out of here.”

Silence falls over the table, and when I look up, they’re both staring at me—worry etched all over their faces.

“I mean just out of the trailer park,” I correct. “Don’t worry. I’m not leaving you guys. You go where I go.”

They both relax their shoulders. Gwen happily goes back to eating her food, but Danny eyes me a fraction longer, distrust woven in his features.

Those are his abandonment issues. All three of us have them.

I guess that’s what happens when every male figure in your life leaves eventually.

Danny doesn’t trust anyone. Gwen clings to anyone who shows her affection.

And me? I give everything to this family, to the point that I “lose myself,” as Coach Simmons says.

I’m not exactly sure what that means. I feel fine. Pretty happy. Maybe a little tired, but who isn’t?

The trailer door rattles a moment before Mom’s tired face fills the frame. Her mascara is smeared all under her eyes, and her brown hair is limply hanging down her back, the curls she made having fallen as she worked through the night.

She stumbles up the steps and closes the door behind her, pulling down her short dress and staring at us. “Hello, my babies,” she says, her eyes vacant from whatever she uses to dull her senses so she can get through the night.

She gives each of us a kiss on the head before her body carries itself to the dingy couch, where she falls onto it, ready to sleep the day away until it’s time to get ready for work again.

Deciding to let the nerves win and abandon my food, I get up from the table and go over to the couch, squatting next to her face. “Mom,” I start softly, trying not to disturb the peace she gets during the day. “The rent is due tomorrow.”

She doesn’t say anything, eyes still closed as she reaches into the neckline of her dress and pulls out a wad of cash for me.

I take it, adding it to the other money we have from her job and my last shifts at the corner store, sighing when I’m done counting, because it’s not enough. It rarely is.

“We’re still short,” I mutter, bowing my head to stare at the old, worn carpet. “I saved up as much as I could, but I can’t work if I play for King’s Heart… maybe I can just not go, and then we?—”

She cuts me off with a gentle hand on my shoulder, drawing my attention back to her face. Her light brown eyes, the same as mine, stare tiredly at the panic all over my face. “I’ll talk to Bob.”

I shake my head, my nausea churning again thinking about sleazy-as-fuck Bob. I know exactly what the talk will be about. “Mom, no. You don’t have to do that—you shouldn’t do that.”

“Baby, it’s fine. It’s the way the world works. Now, go and have a good first day. I need to sleep.”

Resignedly, I nod and stand, turning around to find Gwen and Danny staring again, that same worried look on their faces. I give them a quick smile so they know everything is okay, before switching back into big-brother mode. “Hurry up and eat,” I bark. “Coach will be here any minute.”

I hurriedly walk back to my room so I can change.

Being more careful than I have for anything else in my life, I pull the school uniform out of my shallow closet.

It’s still wrapped in the plastic they draped over it when they handed it to me, and it absolutely pains me to have to take it off.

Even though Coach had finagled a football scholarship out of the snooty school for me, there were some things I still had to pay for myself.

One of them being the expensive as fuck uniform.

Coach offered to get it for me, but he’s already doing so much for me and my family.

Taking me under his wing when I was just a scraggly little freshman.

Getting me the scholarship because he knew it would lead to better opportunities than staying on his team.

Taking me and my siblings to school. Randomly buying us food when my sister would slip how hungry she was. He’s done enough.

I picked up extra shifts at the corner store so I could afford it and still help with rent. But I only had enough money for one. So this is it. I doubt this thing would survive the laundromat down the street where I wash all my other clothes, so it needs to stay as pristine as possible.

The colors for King’s Heart Preparatory Academy for Young Men are green, navy blue, and gold, and the uniform matches that. I put on the white dress shirt and khaki pants, shrugging on the navy blazer afterward and awkwardly tying the green-and-gold-striped tie.

Once I have it all on, I roll my neck a few times to try and get the suffocating feeling to go away. But it persists. Maybe it’s the tie. I had to watch a billion Youtube videos last week to get it right. But maybe it’s too tight?

Or maybe it’s something else entirely. I shuffle over to the mirror I have hanging on the back of my door. I found it by a dumpster. There’s a huge crack splitting right down the middle that splinters in too many directions to count, making me have to piece the distorted image together.

I look… not like me. But that’s not really important. I’m a senior. I only have to wear this thing for a year. Use it to get me somewhere better. To get all of us somewhere better. A good college and after that, the NFL.

Then Mom will never have to leave all night again.

Putting the hanger back in my closet, I walk back out to the kitchen and living room. Gwen and Danny are dutifully cleaning up the breakfast dishes, but when they spot me, they both put huge grins on their faces. “Oooooooooo,” they say in unison.

I try to keep my face serious but end up cracking a smile. “Shut up, guys.”

“Oh well excuse me. My name is Landon, and I’m too fancy for you now. Fancy, fancy, fancy,” Danny sings in an obnoxiously posh accent while prancing around the kitchen.

“I’m not too fancy to put you in a headlock, though,” I say while starting to chase him. Gwen doubles over in a fit of giggles while we run around the table, until Mom lets out a particularly aggressive snore from the couch, making us freeze.

I hold my finger up to my lips and quietly help them put the rest of the dishes away until a car horn blares outside.

We silently gather our things and file out the door.

Right as I lock the door behind me, Gwen lets out a shriek and rushes down the steps. “Coach Simmons!” Her little five-year-old body slams into him, practically knocking him over as he tries to hold the back door of his SUV open for them.

He lets out a quiet grunt. “Whoa. Hey there, little gremlin,” he says, patting her on the back and nodding a greeting to Danny who barely returns it. “Everyone ready for the first day of school?!” he says with mock enthusiasm and a deranged smile on his face.

“Yeah!” Gwen yells as she lets him go and climbs in the backseat. Danny and I both let out a grunt in response. He shrugs. “Yeah, that’s how I feel too.”

We all get in the car and he pulls away. The three of them have some inane conversation about whether Superman or Spiderman would win in a fight. I say a few “yeahs” every so often, but otherwise I’m barely listening—my mind playing out a million scenarios about how today could go.

Coach pulls up to the elementary and attached middle school. We both wave and wish Gwen and Danny a good day, before he pulls off again, this time heading for my destination.

“So you’re nervous?” he asks after a few minutes of silence.

“No,” I answer too quickly.

He scoffs loudly. “You’ve barely spoken the whole ride. And we both know how intensely you feel about Spiderman’s superiority over every other superhero. So… try again.”

I purse my lips. “I just really need this.”

That’s true. I don’t want to mess this up.

And there’s one more thing. I’ve been trying to erase the thought from my head—it just always seems to pop up when I don’t want it to.

But I’m not about to share that with him.

He nods. “I understand. And you have it.”

“Yeah, but what if they don’t like how I play or something?”

“ Ahhhhhh. ” He makes the obnoxious wrong answer buzzer sound you hear on game shows.

“Wrong answer. They picked you because of how you play. They watched you. Don’t forget that.

They know exactly what they’re getting. Yes, I introduced you, but it was all your talent that got you in the doors today. ”

I shift in my seat, seeing the sign for our exit up ahead. “Okay. Well what if the guys don’t like me or something?”

His brow raises slightly. “I didn’t think you were one to care much about what others thought about you.”

He had me there. Most of the time I was just trying to get through life. It was too hard to worry about what other people thought too. “I’m not usually, but it would definitely make my life easier if they liked me.”

He waves his hand at me as he takes another turn, getting closer to the school. “I wouldn’t worry. Everyone ends up liking you. You’re the definition of a nice guy. Besides, the coach is an old buddy of mine. If anyone gives you shit, just let me know, and I’ll have him fuck them up.”

I smirk. “First, that’s just what I need if they don’t like me. To tattle. That will make everything better. And second, because you’re not my coach anymore, that means you can cuss in front of me now? Can I too?”

He looks up at the roof of the car for a moment in thought. “I guess so. Try it out.”

“Okay. Fuck.”

He pulls a face, making his mouth super tiny like he tasted something sour. “Well, I don’t love it, but maybe we’ll get used to it.”

“Alright. Thanks, bitch.”

He barks a laugh and holds onto his heart as he pulls into a parking spot. “Can we take it slow, though? Dear Lord.”

“Okay. Maybe I should call you something else too. You’re not my coach anymore.”

“Hmm.” He rubs at his chin as he stops at a light. “What if we drop the ‘Coach’ part? You can call me by my last name, ‘Simmons.’”

I ponder that for a moment, leaning back to take him in. He’s on the younger side, twenty-eight, with short brown hair and a scruff covered face. I guess he could be a “call me by my last name” type of guy. “Simmons. Yeah. That could work. Fuck yeah, Simmons!”

He grimaces while I let out another laugh that quickly dies as I look out the windshield and realize we’re here.

The school was founded in the 1800s or something, but two years ago they had to tear down all the old buildings because they were overrun with asbestos. In their place is this modern behemoth structure of glass, metal, and sharp angles.

I glance at the parking lot behind us. It’s filled with Teslas, Mercedes, and other cars that look really fancy but I don’t know the name of.

More dread slithers through my veins. I am not like any of these people.

Shit .

He claps me on the shoulder, breaking my existential crisis. “Hey. Don’t worry. This is gonna be great. You’re gonna get a scout to give you a great scholarship to a great college and get everything you’ve ever wanted. Promise.”

A smile stretches across my face even though I’m not sure that’s true.

I take one last scan of the parking lot, my eyes stuttering every time they pass over a guy with dark curls.

Which is so dumb and random.

He probably isn’t even here. It’s the closest school to his house, but he was homeschooled when I met him, and most likely still is. Or maybe whatever made him sick got worse and worse until…

Why am I even worried about this?

If he is here, he probably won’t even remember me. It was eight years ago and really insignificant when you think?—

“Landon?” Simmons asks loudly, like it might be the third or fourth time he’s said it.

I snap my head in his direction. “Huh? Sorry. What?”

The smile he gives me is filled with sympathy. “Time to get out of the car.”

I nod and grab for my backpack. “Right, yeah. I’ll catch the city bus home after practice, okay?”

“Alright. Have a good day! You got this!”

I smile weakly and step out of the car, staring up at the large glass entrance ahead of me— King’s Heart Preparatory Academy for Young Men emblazoned in chrome lettering above it.

Here goes nothing.