Chapter 12: The Sheet

Coach looked at the jersey for a long time.

Then he picked it up and pushed it back across the desk.

"No."

"Coach, I'm not asking."

"I'm not accepting. You can ask me again Sunday, after Mankato, when you're done being useful."

"I can't play Friday if I've quit."

"Then you haven't quit." Coach put on his reading glasses and looked down at his film. "Go home, Ingram."

Ty stood there with the jersey in his hands.

He had walked in ready for a fight, and nobody had given him one.

He went out into the hall.

Cullen Pratt was sitting on the floor against the wall with a bag of chips.

"I thought you might do something stupid," Cullen said.

"How long have you been out here?"

"Since lunch. I figured, he's gone quiet, he's carrying a jersey. Narrow field."

Ty slid down the wall beside him.

"My dad's pulling the fund," he said. He had not planned to say it. "Unless I quit."

Cullen stopped chewing.

"The scholarship one?"

"Yeah."

"Mine?"

"Yeah."

Cullen was silent for a while, and then he said, "I'm gonna be annoyed at you for about ten minutes."

"That's fair."

"Because you didn't tell me."

"I know."

"And because you were gonna go without telling anybody."

Cullen pointed the chip bag at his own chest.

"In this whole building you have one person who's already decided you're a friend, and you skipped him."

Ty laughed. It came out wet.

"Sorry."

"Eat dinner with me." Cullen offered the chips. "And listen to something else. Since you're in a spiral."

"What?"

Cullen wiped his fingers on his pants and pulled out his phone.

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