Rivals by Tommy Greenwald (top 100 novels of all time .txt) 📕

Sundays we usually have sports or other activities or my parents go out, but on Friday nights we eat together at 7:30 sharp.

Liv and I alternate nights setting the table, and tonight it’s my night. As I’m putting the forks down, Liv shows me something on her phone. It’s a meme she found online, a picture of Clay lying on the ground and screaming in pain and me leaning over him to see if he’s okay.

And on the picture someone has written, DUDE! PRACTICE TOMORROW, 9 AM SHARP!

I wave Liv away. “Get that thing out of my face.”

We all sit down. For the first few minutes, as usual, no one says anything except stuff like Pass the steak and Do you have enough water? and Make sure to take some broccoli. Then there’s a few minutes of quiet eating, while we wait for my dad to start a conversation about basketball.

I eat, and wait.

The first thing we talk about is Liv’s travel league game from the night before. She was the leading scorer, as usual.

“I played okay, I guess,” Liv says, even though she knows she played great.

“That’s an understatement,” my mom says.

My dad nods. “You’re looking really strong out there, Liv. Really strong. Maybe work on your free throws a bit, but otherwise, no complaints.”

No complaints from my dad is like You’re the greatest thing since sliced bread from anyone else.

Liv beams. “I worked on my foul shooting today, Dad. I went 39 for 50.”

“Good for you, kiddo.”

I have an urge to roll my eyes, but I manage not to.

My dad’s phone buzzes. He glances at it and reads something quickly. Then he looks up, right at me.

“This is the third text I’ve gotten tonight from a parent asking how you’re doing. What’s this about?”

I hold his gaze for a few seconds, then look down at my plate. “I told some people that I was the one who talked Clay into playing even though he was hurt.”

My dad scoffs. “Yeah well, his injury has nothing to do with you. It’s a freak thing that happened. Nobody’s fault. Certainly not yours.”

He says it in a way that means we’re done with that topic. But for some reason, I decide I’m not done. “Actually, Dad, it kind of was somebody’s fault.”

Silverware stops clinking.

“Is that right?” my dad asks. “Whose fault was it then?”

“Uh, mine. Like I said, I made Clay play, knowing he was already hurt.”

“You didn’t make him play. It was his decision.”

“I’m the captain.”

My dad takes a long sip of water. “The coach would have held him out if he thought Clay was in danger of further injury. Not your call.”

It’s obvious we’re not getting anywhere, so I stop talking.

“It’s a complicated situation, Austin,” my mom chimes in. She’s trying to make peace, as usual. “I mean, you can’t be expected to have the judgment of an adult. I understand that you might feel bad, but saying that you are responsible for Clay’s injury is just ridiculous.”

I feel more comfortable with my mom, so I direct my answer to her. “It’s not that complicated, actually. I wanted to win, and the best chance we had to win was by me talking Clay into playing. Now he’s hurt, so obviously that was a dumb idea, because we’re not going to win nearly as many games with him out.”

“Well, at least you’ll get the ball a lot more,” my dad says. “Like I said at Currier’s, I’ll be shocked if your scoring average doesn’t go way up, since you’re going to be seeing a lot more of the ball.”

“I guess,” I say, trying not to feel guilty about it. “My shooting percentage should go way up, too.”

“Exactly!” My dad nods, satisfied that we can agree on something. Which is my mom’s cue to change the subject.

“Do you guys want to talk about our spring break plans?” she asks.

“SWEEEET!” says Liv, grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, this year we thought we’d try something different,” my mom says. “I mean, no one loves lying in the sun more than me, but we don’t always need to be so lazy. And besides, there’s so much great stuff to see in our very own amazing country, right you guys?”

I notice my sister’s grin has faded a little bit.

My mom gives us her biggest, happiest smile—maybe a little too big and happy. “So, your dad and I decided we’re all going to go to Wyoming to do some camping, and some hiking and fishing, and see all the amazing wildlife at Yellowstone National Park. Bears and moose and wolves! How’s that sound?”

“We’re still working out the details, depending on when the league playoffs end,” my dad adds.

My sister starts playing with her hair, which she always does when she decides to pout about something. “So wait, are we gonna, like, sleep in a tent and stuff?”

“For a few nights, yes,” says my dad. “We’ll also be in a lodge. But if you’re expecting pancake breakfasts and video games and hair salons, well, it’s not that kind of vacation. We’re going to be roughing it a little bit, for a change.”

“Okay, yeah, sounds amazing,” Liv says, sounding unamazed. “But . . . can we go back to the Caribbean at Christmas?”

My dad sighs, then finally looks at me. “What about you, Austin? You think it sounds fun?”

I don’t answer right away. Instead, my mind flashes back to the chain from the night before, when Eric made that gross “free lunch” joke about the guys at South, and Chase turned it into a hashtag. Then I think of Carter Haswell telling me to hang in there. I wonder what he would think about going to Wyoming and “roughing it.”

I look at my dad.

“It sounds fantastic,” I say. “May I be excused?”

CARTER

While I wait for my mom to get home from work and drive me over to Dad’s, I have my usual argument with myself: Should I practice guitar or basketball? The truth is, I’d rather play guitar, but I feel