Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
I searched his face, looking for clues that he’d been the one who messed with my car—but all I got was a blank stare. No gleam of amusement or knowing look. Either he’d learned to hide his expressions better and had become more sinister with his pranks, or he didn’t have a damn clue what was going on.
I exited the stairwell and rushed into class. There she was in her usual seat and all my anxiety melted. She had her blond hair up in a tight ponytail and wore a gray shirt that said Nap Queen.
Mr. Whitt came into class and we got started, but Felix’s image loomed in my head again. Something was tugging at me, pricking, and I couldn’t nail it down.
Then it dawned on me. The knife in my tire—I recognized it. Coach had given the team pearl-handled knives freshman year after we’d won the Southeastern Conference. He’d also had them engraved with our first initial on the metal end. It was small and barely noticeable, but most decidedly there.
The knife in my tire had a pearl handle.
I waited until Whitt wasn’t looking, pulled my phone out, and texted Tate, asking him to check the knife.
He replied right away. I was just about to text you. I remembered too. Yes, it’s the same. I pulled mine out to compare. The initial on the bottom is F.
Fucker!
“Where are you going?” Sunny asked as I gathered up my things. “Max?”
My chest rose as I shoved my laptop inside my bag. “I’m going to find Felix. He messed with my car this morning.”
“Don’t,” she said softly, careful to keep her voice low so Whitt wouldn’t hear us.
I slipped out of class, ignoring the look Whitt sent me.
“Max, wait!”
I flipped around to see Sunny had followed me. I bounded down the steps of the stairwell, stopping at the third floor landing and spinning in a circle. He was gone. I raked my hands through my hair. “He was in the stairwell five minutes ago—with Cyndi,” I said once she came to stand next to me.
“He wants you to lose your cool, Max. Don’t let him win.”
She was right, but what else was he capable of?
I waited outside the Clark building for an hour, but I didn’t see Felix leave when classes got out. I did see Sunny head out for her next class, and I waved at her as she made her way in the opposite direction. As for Felix, I figured he either left through another exit or was in another science class.
I drove to where he lived with a couple of other football players. His Tahoe wasn’t there, but I parked and waited.
Tate called.
“What?” I said, answering the phone after taking off my helmet.
“I know you’re pissed, but you need to chill,” were the first words out of his mouth.
“Why?”
“Because if you go off half-cocked, you’re going to hurt yourself, him, and the entire team. Plus, what if it wasn’t Felix? Maybe someone is setting him up. Just because it’s his knife, doesn’t mean it was him.”
That sounded farfetched.
“You have to think long and hard about what you do next.”
Oh, I was. It was all I could think about. My fists itched to pound him into the ground.
“Think of everything you’ve done this year for the team—and the whole fake thing with Sunny—are you just going to throw all that away?”
“I don’t think I can be around him and not punch him,” I bit out.
“I know. Just get through the game. We’re so close. Just think about your shiny little trophy. Felix would laugh his ass off if you threw it away on a fight with him. He’d love it if you broke your hand on his face.”
I exhaled a deep breath and clenched my hands.
Maybe Tate was right.
Just get through the game.
I blew out a breath, pushing my rage down. “Then, I’ll need a work out at the gym.”
“Good call.”
I clicked the phone off, cracked my neck, and cranked my bike.
Max
TUESDAY DAWNED, AND I WOKE up as soon as the sun peeked in through Sunny’s blinds. Only a few words had passed between us last night when I’d shown up at her door, just a silent communication that I needed her.
After my workout at the gym the day before, I’d decided to go see Coach. I’d laid everything out on the line for him, from the daisy to the basement to the knife in my tire. He called Felix into his office and confronted him with my accusations. Felix pushed it off with a nonchalant shrug, convincingly denying any involvement in anything. He said he’d lost his knife over a year ago. He also brought another guy on the team whose name began with an F.
Frank.
Frank was a good defensive player and had no beef with me.
Whatever. It was all bullshit.