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Shrugging, he answered, "Don’t get a chance much anymore He was pissed with somethin’ I’d done He called me to meet him and… well, you saw the rest"

I shuffled forward and sat facing him "What was so bad that he’d strike you like that?"

"Money, disappointone that far in public before, though I’ve never seen him so pissed"

"But you’re his son! How dare he treat you like that? What the hell have you done to deserve to be punched?"

A closedin response I could tell he wasn’t going to talk; his lips were locked tight in refusal I took his hand again and he gripped o

He appeared so lost, his usual hard exterior split open, exposing his weakness I needed to change the topic, gradually reseal the scar

"Hoas your game in Arkansas?"

A small flicker of relief flashed across his face at h"

"You have a bad ga at the fresh cut, and picked up a fallen twig, snapping it in his clenched fist "Fuckin’ nightame"

"Well, you’re only human"

"I’ve never had such a bad start to a season in my entire life My senior year, the one in which I’ll enter the draft, and it’s all goin’ to hell in a hand basket"

"Why is it going so bad?"