Sell Out Read Online Free PDF Page B

Right now, that’s Blake Mason. Before him, Chuck Winston. And before him, Tom Baker. And the list goes on…for decades.” His shoulders fell. “I didn’t take it seriously either.” His pause was pained. “I made a mistake. And now it’s too late.”
    “It’s never too late.” The words came out more forcefully than I intended. Having hope. Believing in the impossible. It was the only way I could get through the day anymore. “What I mean is, you take one day at a time.”
    Henry met my eyes. His soft brown irises were barely visible through the thick glasses. “Thank you. It’s been a long time since anyone cared.”
    *
    By the time the last bell rang, I was way past my fascination with public school. It didn’t help either that my sixth period teacher, Ms. Bakerfield, was a grouch.
    My now full locker was jammed with a myriad of books ranging from slightly thick to ridiculous. I sighed. Maybe I was ready for college. High school certainly wasn’t what I expected.
    Loud heckling and laughter echoed through the hall, and a flood of male bodies meandered past leaving a wake of sweat, suntan lotion and hard, thick muscles. Heat shot to my cheeks and down my arms. I shouldn’t have looked, but I watched every step they took.
    The tall, blond in front seemed to be the ringleader. He was pretty enough to be a model and moved with the confidence of a celebrity. I’d known a hundred of those types: smug smile, lazy stride, his eyes catching his reflection in the glass trophy case. He may have captured the attention of most girls, but he wasn’t the one who spawned tiny fairies in my stomach.
    Head lowered as he walked, hands shoved into his pockets, the object of my fascination trailed just a foot behind the others. He was taller than the blond, his body solid and strong with the muscle and strength of a seasoned athlete. His sun-kissed brown hair fell softly on his forehead, which still held a line from a now missing baseball cap.
    All his friends were talking and cutting up. He wasn’t. His back pulsed with tension and his steps seemed hesitant like he dreaded each one. I wanted to know why.
    “Cody, pick it up. We’re gonna be late,” the blond one called out, stopping to wait.
    Cody raised his head and, for two heartbeats, his eyes were all I could see.
    My breath stilled. We weren’t close enough to speak, but his gaze sliced through every layer of pretense until I felt completely exposed.
    The other guy slapped his shoulders and pushed him forward, laughing while they walked. Cody’s focus returned to his group, breaking the connection. A strange feeling of loss replaced it.
    Henry joined me at my locker, but I was transfixed.
    “Who is that?”
    His sad sigh broke my trance. He pointed to the back of the blond who was the last to disappear around the corner. “That—is the king of Madison. Don’t ever forget.”

CODY
    “A gain!” Coach screamed as we ran our twentieth suicide sprint. His fierce demeanor went way beyond his gigantic frame and bushy white hair. The man’s voice could scare wild dogs into submission.
    Fatigued and dehydrated from all day on the lake, I barely made it to the side of the track before vomit spewed from my throat. I’d been the tenth one to puke and the last senior. Chugger blew chunks after just two sprints. Served him right for downing a six-pack.
    “Look at that, boys. Your captain finally went down. Do you have anything to say for yourself, Captain?”
    What I wanted to say would get me kicked off the team. I just shook my head.
    “I sure hope you had a lot of fun today, Mr. Cody James, because I plan to recoup every one of those seven hours you spent goofing off. You hear me?”
    “Yes, Coach.”
    “Good. Get back in line!”
    Five sprints later, he released the underclassmen to the lockers and let us rest.
    My knees buckled. Blake was also on all fours.
    “I’m going to kill you,” I whispered.
    His smile showed as much remorse as a bratty two year old