It could have been a smooth-sailing football practice. But no - Coach Berella just had to say it.
"Buck up, Toni," he shouted, "This session ain't even close to chewin' you out like I did your mother!"
All the guys on the team snickered and eventually busted out laughing. My face flushed a raging red. That bastard knew damn well my parents were on the cusp of divorce, and he didn't need to remind me or the entire team about it.
"Shut the hell up," I snapped at them. "And you - " I pointed directly at Berella " - you keep your big-ass nose out of my business. My mother and father have nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with you."
He grunted but then said under his breath, "That mother of yours ain't much of a keeper anyways. Dumb bitch."
That's when I pummeled my fist into his right eye, knocking him back into the water jug. When he didn't get back up I turned around and headed for the parking lot. The rest of the team surrounded his unconscious body splayed in the wet grass. You never, ever piss off the quarterback. Ever.
I saw her standing there, watching me with narrowed eyes.
"What's up?" Everett asked. Her head nodded towards the team, still standing over Coach Berella.
"Asshole pushed me to the edge. So I knocked him out." She shook her head and grabbed the keys off the hood of her Camero.
"My house?" Everett looked at me across the hood as we opened the doors.
I nodded. "Yeah."
She was that one person who didn't question what was entirely wrong. I'd say one thing and she'd keep quiet and change the subject. I loved it. But when we pulled into her driveway, I knew something was up.
"You alright?" I asked.
Everett shrugged. "I've been better."
We looked at each other and she knew I wanted her to continue. "School's just being a bitch with all the tests. Today was insane. Unit 7 quiz in AP Bio, Chapter 9 quiz in history, and then another Calculus test. I'm really losing it." I unbuckled myself, stepped out of the car, and opened Everett's door. She unfastened her seat belt and locked her car. Before we walked into the house, I pulled her into me for a hug. I told her, "Everything's fine, don't worry so much. You're smart. I'm positive you did great on all your quizzes and tests and all that crazy shit."
She laughed while I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and walked us both inside her amazing home. On the walls were oil and acrylic paintings none other by Everett, who took a serious interest in abstraction. Her artistic talent, I think, keeps her sane. After I took off my cleats, she offered me a drink so I took a bottle of water and strolled to her room.
"Do you mind if I...?" Everett gestured towards a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.
"Go ahead," I replied, instantly focusing on a Cherokee carving that was placed on the lowest shelf. But even as I stared at the meticulously carved wood, something in my mind clicked. I thought about the stress Everett and I had been experiencing lately. One way she relieves herself of it is by painting, and she rarely has the time for it anymore. And I... Well clearly punching people isn't the solution. But I do remember reading this article about couples reducing their stress levels by kissing. And since we're close friends, it can't be all that bad if we touched lips just this one time.