All Good Children - Catherine Austen [24]
He’s still there when the rest of us arrive. He stands naked under a showerhead, hands against the wall, hair hanging black over his eyes, water streaming down his face.
Kids who were on the bench when Dr. Richmond appeared squint and whisper in Dallas’s direction, but they taper off when no one joins in. We wash in silence while Dallas stands there, unmoving. He takes occasional shuddering breaths, but I can’t tell if he’s crying or fuming. I exchange “What the hell do we do?” looks with my teammates, but they have no answers.
I dress and sit on a bench by my locker until they all leave. Dallas is still in his own private waterfall, blazing white and way too naked. He’s bleaching pale as a corpse, and the whole place reeks of chlorine.
I walk up beside him, tap his arm. “Hey hey, we have to go. Brennan said I should take you home.”
He clenches his jaw but doesn’t open his eyes. Hot water bounces off his shoulder into my face. He sucks in a slow breath.
I can’t leave him here, but I don’t want to touch him again. I don’t know how to manage this, so I fall back on a joke. “Brennan stared at your fat white ass for twenty minutes and then he said, ‘Max, if I was you, I would take that big boy home.’”
Dallas breaks a tiny smile, snorts quietly. He peeks at me from under his hair and lisps, “I was wondering when you’d notice.”
I laugh. His blue eyes are bloodshot pools, but he’s better than I feared. I swat his arm. “Come on. Let’s go paint graffiti on the old Home Reno or something.” I cringe as I realize that’s the lumberyard we pilfered from years ago to make our backyard fort. “I don’t know why I said that. I just meant let’s go do something constructive. We could do anything you want.”
He sighs and raises his head, wipes the water off his face. “I know why you said that.” He turns off the tap and grabs his towel.
Outside, the grounds are empty. Even Pepper is gone. Coach Emery waits by the trailer, holds the door open while we store our pads. “Good game,” he says.
Dallas tries to smile. Then he sees his father and brother in the parking lot. Brennan and Kayla wait beside the bike rack. We have to pass them all to get to the road.
We avoid eye contact, pretend we’re strolling on our own. “Come to my place,” I say.
“Sure. Maybe we can order chili.”
Dr. Richmond staggers over and shouts, “You know Maxwell and his mother can’t afford a restaurant. It takes all their money just to send him to school.”
Brennan and Kayla stare at me like I’m an armless dwarf who’s been beaten up by kindergartners. The only way I could be more pitiful is if I had an asshole for a father.
Dr. Richmond tries to drape an arm around Dallas, but Dallas steps away, knocking into me, shaking with fury.
“Why don’t you all come to our place?” Dr. Richmond shouts. He looks at Kayla and winks. “Come have some fun.”
Brennan shakes his head in disgust. “We have things to do.” Because he’s kind and generous, he adds, “Sorry, Dallas.”
“You played well today,” Kayla says before she climbs on her bike.
Dr. Richmond leans forward to ogle her ass.
“These children are fifteen years old,” Coach Emery says as he leaves. “Remember that.”
Dr. Richmond’s glance passes over the coach like he’s a servant without a tray, and lands on me like I’m shit on his shoes. “I guess it’s just you left.”
Dallas looms in front of his father. “We’re not going anywhere with you. Don’t make social plans for me. I am not your little boy.”
Dr. Richmond steps back, cocks his head, tries to focus his sight. Blink, blink. “Come home with your brother and we’ll order pizza.”
Dallas moves into his father’s face again, looks down into his watery eyes. “Don’t ever walk onto that field while I’m playing.”
Dr. Richmond looks from Dallas to me and back. “What were you two doing in the school for so long?”
Dallas bristles. “Don’t talk to my friends. Don’t talk to my team. Don’t talk to me. Don’t even come to my games. I don’t want you here.”
“I’m helping you out!” Dr. Richmond