My shoulders sag as my breath leaves my chest and I deflate. I blink slowly, taking in the view of my father walking over to the two boys, talking to them. Travis responds while Nico looks out in the distance. My dad stares at him, stepping in closer until Nico turns to make eye contact, finally nodding. The grudge, or chip, or whatever it is—it’s still there.
“Why sorta?” I say finally.
Noah’s quiet and doesn’t answer for almost a minute. When he speaks, I think he’s changing the subject.
“Mom found my pot,” he says.
I burst out a laugh, then stop the recording on my camera.
“I’m pretty sure you don’t want that on my video,” I say.
“Whatever,” Noah shrugs.
“I’ll delete it,” I say, glaring at him until he turns to look at me. I can’t see his eyes, only my reflection in his sunglasses, but he gives me a nod of thanks.
He turns his gaze back to the field, and there’s more chewing and spitting, and I start to think that’s all he’s going to tell me. I form my question in my head, dying to know how Mom found out, when Noah begins to share.
“I made Travis take me Saturday night. We buy from this guy in West End, and I guess he lives near Nico or whatever. I don’t know; we always meet him at this small park on one of the corners. Anyhow, we walk up to the car, and the guy rolls down the window, and I give him my money, but he holds his hand out like he’s waiting for more,” Noah says.
His voice is even, and his eyes remain out on the field—the story coming out emotionless. My arms start to tingle with anxiety, so I tuck my thumbs in my fists and press them against my hips, frozen and rapt, hanging on his breath and waiting for the next word.
“I was like, ‘dude, that’s what I always pay you,’ and the guy went on about how prices are going up, and he did me a favor last time. He said I owed him that from before, and he wasn’t going to give me the bag. I started to get a little pissed off, but I could tell Travis was getting nervous, so I didn’t get physical or nothing. I just sort of…maybe yelled at the guy a bit, called him a few names. He rolled the window down more, and I saw the piece sitting on the seat next to him.”
“Jesus, Noah…” I hum, my lips tingling and my mind picturing every word he says.
“Yeah, I know,” he says, glancing to me, but only briefly. “The guy was high on something. I could tell, and I don’t think he was going to let us go without getting way more than we gave him. Especially since I’m on crutches; it’s not like I could make a break for it.”
“Oh my God, Noah. Why didn’t you tell me about this? We need to file a police report, or do something, or…”
Noah chuckles and pulls his glasses down, turning to look me in the eyes.
“Reagan, I don’t need to file a public document that says I was out buying drugs in West End,” Noah says, his mouth set in a hard, serious line.
I pull my lips in on one side and nod.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just…Noah, if Mom knew all of this…”
“Nico saw us,” he interrupts.
I look up to find my brother’s eyes still waiting for me, his expression unchanged.
“He…saw you?” I hold my breath, pushing my hands into my thighs harder, my shoulder tense and arms flexed.
“He walked up and got in the middle of shit that was going down. He told the guy that we were connected to someone that could bust him, third strike or something like that. The guy stared at him for a long time, and I was waiting for him to call bullshit, but eventually he just nodded and threw a bag at me. That’s how Mom found it…”
“I don’t understand,” I say, my focus on him intense.
“I was so freaked out, I left it in Travis’s Jeep. His mom got the call from your dad, about A&M, last night. He came over to tell me, and grabbed it on his way. He didn’t want any of it near him, kind of freaked out about testing or shit I guess, and then I got distracted with his news, and then Dad came in to tell me that Texas was pulling their interest in me…”
“Wait,” I say, holding up a hand. “Texas is pulling out?”
“Yeah, well…it’s not like I’m putting up numbers this year, and other guys are so…”
“Noah,” I say, my face falling in sympathy.
“Don’t,” he says, pushing his glasses back up and looking back out to the field. He spits the final few seeds from his mouth. “It sucks enough without you pitying me about it.”
“You’ll go somewhere else,” I say.
“Maybe,” he sighs.
I look back out at the field and watch the squads break out to run drills, Nico working with Travis. His movements are rigid, and he’s throwing angrily—forcing the ball instead of letting it work naturally. That’s my fault.
“How’d Mom find your pot then?” I ask, greedily, wanting my brother’s screwup for a distraction.
“I left it on the middle of my goddamned desk. Which, ha…I mean come on, I never have homework out on that thing or anything. I might as well have just tossed it to her,” he says, laughing at himself.
“She probably would have just smoked it,” I deadpan.
Noah snorts out a laugh.