Chapter 2
Carl tried to laugh.
It came out wrong.
Thin.
Ugly.
“Coach, don’t be dramatic.”
Coach Martinez stepped between us.
“I’m not the one who threw a kid into a trash can.”
Carl pointed at me.
“He hit me.”
“I saw why.”
Parents began murmuring.
My teammates moved closer.
Not too close.
Just enough that I knew I was not standing alone.
The head referee stood near home plate, face white.
The umpire who had sent the video was named Mr. Lawson.
He walked toward us slowly.
“I didn’t know what was in the envelope at first,” he said. “Then I heard what he wanted.”
Carl snapped, “You took it.”
Mr. Lawson shook his head.
“I turned it in.”
Coach held up the tablet again.
“After recording him.”
Brandon’s smile disappeared.
My mother finally moved.
She climbed down from the bleachers, trembling.
“Carl,” she whispered. “Tell me this isn’t true.”
Carl rounded on her.
“Your son humiliated mine.”
I flinched.
Your son.
Mine.
There it was.
The line that had lived inside our house since the wedding.
I was my mother’s son.
Brandon was his.
And fairness was whatever made Brandon feel bigger.
Mom’s face changed.
For years, she had softened Carl’s words.
He’s stressed.
He loves you in his own way.
He just wants everyone included.
But there was no softening this.
I stood covered in trash while a video showed him trying to buy my failure.
Coach turned to Mom.
“Mrs. Hayes, I’m calling police.”
Carl shouted, “For what? A family issue?”
Coach’s eyes went cold.
“Assault. Bribery. Attempted sports fraud. And whatever else the school district wants to add.”
Brandon stepped forward.
“Dad only did it because everyone ignores me.”
I stared at him.
“You wanted me disqualified?”
His eyes flashed.
“You always get everything.”
I laughed.
It hurt my ribs.
“I practiced until my hand blistered. You skipped drills.”
His face reddened.
“You think you’re better than me?”
“No,” I said. “I know I worked harder today.”
Carl lunged toward me again.
This time, three fathers grabbed him.
Police arrived before sunset.
Coach gave them the tablet.
Mr. Lawson gave his statement.
Parents offered videos from their phones.
My mother stood beside me, shaking, while an officer asked if I wanted medical attention.
I said no.
Coach said yes.
Mom looked at the garbage on my jersey and began to cry.
“I’m sorry, Mason.”
My name in her mouth sounded broken.
I wanted to hug her.
I also wanted to scream.
“You saw him do it,” I said.
She cried harder.
“I froze.”
I looked at Carl sitting on the curb in handcuffs.
May you like
Then at Brandon, glaring at me like I had ruined his life.
“No,” I said. “You’ve been frozen for two years.”
