Sweet Fall

“We got a problem on campus, and he asked me to talk to you, see what you know.”

“What kind of problem?” I asked, confused.

“A drug problem,” he answered straight and waited for me to say something in return.

A drug problem. Drugs turn up on campus and immediately they think of me.

“I’ve got nothing to do with it,” I said tightly.

Coach just nodded. “I don’t think that you do,” he emphasized.

My stomach flipped. “And why’d you say it like that? Who do y’all think is involved?”

I knew, of course, but I wanted to hear it from his mouth. Wanted to hear his accusation against my blood out loud.

“There’s been some talk that someone looking just like you has been seen on campus, dealing coke.” He sighed. “Just like you, Austin. You hearing me? I only know one person that could be.” He paused and I waited, just waited. I needed to hear it from his damn mouth.

“Fine, son. I’ll say it. Axel. I’m thinking it’s your brother.”

I laughed in disbelief and shook my head. “Not you, Coach. Not you too! Don’t you f**kin’ do this to me! Some f**ker turns up on campus, dealing, and you immediately think of the trailer trash scholarship kid with Heighter relations. That it?”

Coach motioned to speak. “Aust—”

“It’s not him. He wouldn’t have done it. Wouldn’t bring that shit my way. He’s family. Family doesn’t screw each other over.” My voice was cold and hard as I cut him off.

Hell, I was pissed.

Coach stood and lifted his hands, trying to calm me down. “Austin, I’m not saying it is him, just that some students were able to identify the gang involved. The dealer had a tattooed star on his left cheek, just like the one you have. We all know the stars are the mark of—”

“The Heighters. My gang.”

Coach shook his head in exasperation and moved around the desk to stand before me. “Now I’ll stop you right there. The gang ain’t yours no more. You got out—”

“You never get out. Only fools think that,” I said flatly.

Coach gripped my shoulder. “You got out. You came here. End of the year, you’ll get drafted to the NFL and leave. Leave it all behind.”

I dropped my head and Coach removed his hand. Pulling a long inhale, I met his eyes. “I know he spent time in juvie, and I know he has a bad rep, but family comes first with us. Always has. We’re Italian, Coach. It’s always family first. Axel may not make the best choices in life, but he couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t do this… to me.”

Coach stared at the floor for several seconds before nodding his head. “Then I believe you. I’ll let the dean know it ain’t him, you don’t know anything ’bout it, and he should look elsewhere.”

The tight coil of tension in my stomach began to slowly unwind. I felt like I could breathe again.

“Austin, I know you haven’t got a man in the house, that your daddy didn’t do right by you, that you boys got a rough deal and had to make a life for your momma the best way you knew how. I get that you boys are tight—Axel, Levi, yourself. But you got a chance at a better life, son. You could give your momma the world then. Guide Levi on the right path. Hell, I’m expecting to see that kid start for the Tide in the future.”

A physical pain actually sliced through my chest. A better life for my mamma in what, nine or ten months? When I got drafted and got my first big paycheck? Months she didn’t have—the harsh truth that Coach knew shit about.

In response, I just asked, “Am I good to go now, Coach?”

Coach moved back around his desk and took a seat again, slipping his glasses back in place. “You’re good.”

Just as I was about to exit through the door, I glanced back, my hand frozen on the handle. “I appreciate you looking out for me, Coach, but this time y’all are dead wrong.”

Coach dipped his chin in acknowledgement, but I could see the doubt in his eyes. I walked out, pulling the door closed behind me, and rested my head against the thick wood.

“Well, hell, boy, what was that all about?”

I breathed slowly through my nose and turned around to see Jimmy-Don Smith and Rome Prince, my best friends, leaning back against the opposite wall. Jimmy-Don was a big Texan offensive lineman, and the most genuinely nice guy I’d ever met. Rome Prince was like my brother. Hell, I got on with him better than my own brothers, for Christ’s sake. Most talented guy I’d ever played with. He didn’t see it, though. Most humble guy I knew. And with his long blond hair and stacked frame, he was also more than a hit with chicks. On the surface, everything for him seemed perfect, but he was just like me—pretty damn f**ked up—and the only person who knew the real me.