Students of the Game by Sarah Bumpus Read Free Book Online

was just…I couldn’t find my phone,” I tell him.
    “Listen,” he says, getting right to the point. “I was calling to see if you wanted to go with me to catch t hat new Matt Damon movie, Saturday night? Strictly platonic of course,” he throws in notably.
    “Is Farah going too?”
    “Um…no. I asked her, but you know she’s not big on action movies.”
    Huh. Usually she’s up for almost anything, as long as she’s out and able to be seen.
    “I think she’s going to visit her siste r anyway,” he adds.
    That explains it. Farah’s older sister Charlotte attends an art school in Providence, Rhode Island and I take the word ‘‘visit ’ to mean party. “Alright, Seth, I’d love too.”
    “Sweet, I’ll pick you up and we can grab some food beforehand. Oh, and sorry about dilapidating the shrubs in front of the library. I totally bailed into them trying to 50/50 the railing,” he admits.
    “Sure, no problem, ” I tell him, imagining the librarian Bernice, looking as unhappy as the shrubs if I were to tell her this bit of information.
    We say our goodbyes and as I unlock my car door, I wonder why Farah didn’t mention her plans to go to see Charlotte. Maybe she didn’t want to hurt my feelings about not inviting me along? I honestly wouldn’t have cared. She knows I’m not a big part person anyway. I make a note to ask her about it, toss my phone on the passenger seat, and head home.
     
     
               The topic of the evening at the dinner table is more like a game of twenty questions. My mom is asking about my pile of college applications that still need to be filled out. The most important being, “When the deadline for Brown?”
    I know she is only hounding because she understands how much I want to go there. The deadline is the end November and I know I’ve been procrastinating on filling out my application. I’m just scared I’m not good enough for them to want me. I promise my mom that I’ll get on it soon and spend the rest of the meal twirling my linguine around my fork. To o stressed to finish my food, I end up scraping my pasta and salad remnants into the garbage disposal, then head up to my room.
    I grab my laptop and flop down on my stomach with a whoosh of my feather bed. Turning on the computer, it hums to life and as it’s booting up, I’m hoping Farah is online so I can vent out some my stress. After it’s loaded, I start to move the mouse towards the messaging icon, but instead my hand floats the cursor over to the search engine. I double click on it, thinking about what happened after school today. I find myself typing, ‘Bryce Colton, North Tide Football ’ then hit Enter.
    Within seconds there are images at the top of Bryce posing with a ball, action shots taken during games, and some of the whole team in uniform. There are also numerous links to articles from North Tide’s newspaper.
    I click back and redo the search, excluding the word ‘football.’ It brings up Bryce’s Facebook page, and a few more articles. Scrolling down further I click on a link that reads, ‘ Son of Former College Star Learns How to Play The Game .’
    There is a snapshot of Bryce in a Pee-Wee football uniform. His lanky body is supporting a head, clad in a mammoth sized helmet, giving him a bobble-head like appearance. Mr. Colton is on one knee, with his right arm on Bryce’s shoulder and he is looking down into his son’s eyes.  I suppose the viewer is meant to speculate the reasoning behind this tender interaction. Is he offering the wisdom from his own success at the sport? Could he be telling him to toughen up, sometimes you lose and it’s just not fair? Yeah well, ther e’s a big difference between losing a game and losing your father.
    I click back, and out of curiosity, I open the link to his Facebook page. When I see throw-up worthy postings from Missy, proclaiming her undying love,  I quickly click on the photos section. There are party pics of him with team mates