Fadeaway by E. Vickers (sight word readers TXT) 📕

to bow their heads and clasp their hands and pour out their hearts, asking for anything and everything they need. They’re not as flawed as he is.

How can he ask for help from the very Being he has disappointed most? The One who asked him to be perfect in the first place?

He’s had moments of perfection, he knows. Moments of goodness and clarity. In the beginning, the pills helped those moments last longer. They dulled the teeth of the monster of Not Enough.

But now, even with more pills, it never lasts. “There is no peace, saith the Lord, unto the wicked.” And here in this arena, before the starting lineups are even announced in the biggest game of his life, the monster has returned, teeth bared.

Coach B will know he stole the pills.

Coach C will find the others in his bag, if he hasn’t already.

They’ll know, like his dad knew all along, that Jake isn’t worthy or worth it.

There’s no such thing as a Father who loves you unconditionally.

It doesn’t matter anyway. Jake is ready—head, hands, heart—to lay it all on the court one last time. And then he will walk straight into the monster’s mouth.

They did it. They won. And Jake had the game of his life. As I pull up to the after-game party, it still feels surreal.

Seth’s house pulses with music, the laughter inside louder because the season’s over and Seth’s dad will turn a blind eye to the fact that it’s not always Coke in our plastic cups. I watch eleven cars arrive but quickly lose count of how many people have piled out and gone inside. They make it look so easy: flirt and laugh and walk through the door. It used to be like that for me.

But I don’t want crowds or music tonight. And I definitely don’t want to see Jake. All I want is to talk to Seth, to tell him what happened in the training room—how Jake was so broken that I wanted to fix it any way I could, how I regretted it before it even really started.

Who would believe it, though? Who would believe that even before my lips met Jake’s, I knew I’d always care about him but I didn’t love him like that anymore?

It’s a lot to ask, even of Seth.

Still, I gather my courage and go to the door. As much as Seth’s dad likes to be in the middle of everything his players do (which is probably why he offered to host in the first place), Seth’s family lives on the edge of town. Their property backs up to a scraggly forest with a creek running through it. For me, it was love at first sight. Even better than our cabin, not because it’s nicer (although it is) but because they get to wake up to it every morning. How would it be, I wonder, to walk a hundred yards out your back door and see only what’s natural and wild?

Seth and I came out to the forest after a snowfall one night, and we sat silently for so long, just watching the flakes fall, that a doe led her fawn right in front of us, the spots on its back barely bigger than the flakes.

I never told Seth that I came here with Jake too, one night when Seth had invited us both to a party. I never told Seth that Jake was the first boy I kissed in these woods. Not because it was something to hide, but because I’ve tried so hard to leave everything about being with Jake in the past. In this moment, I wish I could erase it all. Wish these woods could only be the place where Seth and I watched the fawn in the snowfall, pure and simple.

It’s Coach himself who answers the door, smiling and waving me in. “You don’t even have to knock, you know. You’re welcome here anytime.”

Coach has always liked me. All parents seem to like me. Maybe it’s because my dad raised me to be polite and respectful, or maybe my name is in enough news articles for sports and academics that parents sort of pay attention. And okay, it probably doesn’t hurt that my dad is the judge.

Whatever it is, I’ve learned to work the advantage. To like it, even. Bad news is, high schoolers aren’t so easy to impress. I’m about to brave the crowd when I hear Coach’s voice calling me back. “Hey, Daphne,” he says, the scent of beer on his breath. “I meant to tell you, congratulations on your win tonight.”

My team won too—but in the consolation bracket. I was coming to the training room to get some ice for my ankle after my own game when the whole mess with Jake happened.

“Thanks,” I say. “And you too. Pine Valley got outplayed tonight, but they got outcoached too. You deserve to celebrate.”

Coach looks down into the red-and-white plastic cup in his hand. Warrior colors, even tonight. Especially tonight. “Oh, I’m having a great time,” he says, but it doesn’t sound like he believes it. “Seth’s out back.” I look past him and out the sliding glass door to see Seth with a plastic cup of his own and an arm slung over Kolt’s shoulders.

“Thanks,” I say. “And I meant what I said. They couldn’t have done this without you.”

Seth smiles when I come through the sliding door, but there’s something sad in it. I think of his smile as he stood between Jake and Kolt and hoisted the trophy above his head. It’s been only a couple of hours since the game. It seems so unfair that our worst moments stain for so long but our best fade so quickly.

“Hey,” I say, slipping my hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “Can we go down to the basement? To talk?” I give the last two words extra emphasis for Kolt’s sake.

“Maybe not tonight,” Seth says, his gaze flickering back toward the house. He