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

gave him printed pages underlined and scrawled on in her handwriting. He mutters to himself. Taps his fingers against the handle of the door.

Kmart knew everything had changed before they even climbed into the truck. “Talk to me,” he says, not for the first time.

So Jake talks.

Kmart listens.

After twenty miles, Jake finally calls a new play.

“Turn around. I need to go back.”

Kmart sighs, but he pulls over.

“You sure about this?” he asks as the truck idles.

Jake nods. “I’ll find you on the other side,” he says.

Kmart shrugs. “If you want to.”

Jake turns to him. “Of course. You’re my sponsor, man.”

They both laugh at the absurdity of this, at how true and untrue it is all at once. They laugh because sometimes the only way to do something this difficult is to laugh. Whether they realize it or not, they have both learned this from Kolt.

“Here,” Kmart says. “It was time to give this back, anyway.” He tosses Jake’s phone onto the seat between them, then peels out of the gravel and onto the road—heading for Ashland this time.

Jake’s almost afraid to pick the phone up. Was it really just a few hours ago he snuck it out to send that text? How has so much changed so quickly?

When he finally turns it over, there’s a message from Luke. The highlight video, as promised.

Jake watches himself on the court and aches to get back there again. When the screen fades to black, he picks up the stack of mail from Luke and opens one college envelope after another. Some are just generic mailers, but most seem personalized, and a few are even signed by the whole coaching staff. For the first time, it seems possible that somebody could still want him, that this could still be his future.

Eventually the truck pulls to the curb in front of Jake’s house—the very same spot where it waited all those weeks ago. The snow has long since melted; the path to the front door is clear. Jake climbs out, collects his backpack. Can’t quite bring himself to say goodbye yet.

“You could come with me,” he says.

They both know this isn’t true. Not right now, anyway.

Kmart shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good.”

“You could try things out here for a while. Go see your family.”

“I could,” Kmart admits. It’s not a commitment, but it’s not a no, either.

He pulls the roll of cash from his pocket, but Jake refuses.

“At least give it back to your brother,” Kmart insists.

Now Jake shuts the door. He cups his hand to his ear, then shrugs, pretending he didn’t hear. He knows that Kmart will need the money, and that Luke is way too generous to want the gift returned, in any case. He’s a good kid like that. The best kid.

As the truck rolls away from the house, Jake takes a paper from Daphne’s stack—the one she’s marked up the most. At the top she’s drawn a bold, dark star next to the words “works best for Jake.”

Jake studies the words. Maybe rehab didn’t work for his dad because he didn’t work for himself. But Jake is willing to work. Always has been.

With shaking hands, he dials the number, and with a shaking voice, he answers a woman’s questions about what he needs.

“We have an open bed,” she says. “Can you come in tonight?”

Jake looks through the front window, sees the outline of his mom and Luke asleep on the couch. He rests his hand on the glass, half hoping to see their eyes flutter open.

But they don’t, and he knows it’s probably better this way. He has to take this next step while he’s still got the courage. Walk away now so he can be with them again.

“Yes,” he says quietly. “I can come in tonight.”

After he hangs up, Jake programs the address from the paper into his phone. He finds a pen on the floor of his truck and writes his own words beneath Daphne’s, then slides the paper through the crack below the door.

I love you. I’m okay. This is where I’ll be for a while but then I’m coming home.

This time he knows the ink is real, and the promise will be kept.

Jake goes to his truck, takes the key from the ashtray, and drives.

The whole world has woken up. Crocuses bloom, then tulips and daffodils hurry to catch up. The stream runs, muddy and strong. And one blade at a time, the dry, yellowed grass of last autumn is replaced by this season’s green.

Across the town, four phones vibrate as one, coming to life with the same message.

Rehab going well. Visiting hours on website. Will text more when I can.

Daphne reads it as she fills out her housing application for the university. She’ll show it to Seth later, before they staff the table for summer basketball sign-ups. He’ll want to know.

Kolt will share the message too, both with his parents and with Jenna. He still waits for the day when his brother will reach out to him, but somehow just knowing what he knows now has already helped the old wounds begin to heal.

Luke reads the text as he rides his bike to his very first day at his very first job. Before he puts his phone away, he looks back at the thread. All these messages to the same four people, but he still isn’t sure who the fourth is.

—

Across town, Coach B stops at the end of his driveway to gather the mail. There are two packages: one from a small college hours away where he used to take the boys for a summer tournament, and the other without a return address. He drives the old Jeep into the carport and takes them both to his kitchen table to open.

Mrs. B brings him a glass of water and his medication. She sets his phone next to them.

“Someday you’ll actually remember to take that with you when you go out,” she says, kissing him on the thin waves