Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Where we parked— the permitted science department spots— there were only a handful of professors, using their coveted campus spots to park close and walk to the stadium. As we pass the business school, we start to see painted faces; once the student center comes into view, it’s hard to locate a single person without a Harton-themed temporary tattoo on their cheek, and flatly impossible to find anyone not wearing school colors.
“Well, what do you think of him, Kenley? Is he good enough for your sister?” Mom asks.
“What’s that even supposed to mean?” Mandy asks, laughing like Mom was joking. “He’s got great grades, he’s an athlete, he comes from a good family, and he’s hot.”
“So was your father,” Mom says flatly.
“That’s totally different,” Mandy says. “Besides, he gave us amazing tickets.”
“That doesn’t default make him great,” I point out.
My mom’s eyebrows raise. “So he’s not great?”
Mandy scowls over Mom’s shoulder, and even though I confess to liking these scattered moments where I’ve got something on my older sister, I don’t want to wreck her yet for kicks. So I shrug. “Honestly, Mom, I don’t know him that well. But he seems nice.”
Mom seems placated, at least temporarily. “Well. Okay. Mandy, I’m looking forward to meeting him.”
“Good, because he’s just ahead,” Mandy says, pointing. Bradley is at one of the stadium gates, looking shiny and well-groomed and like a poster for Harton spirit wear. He greets my mother enthusiastically, gives Mandy a chaste kiss on the cheek, and hugs me awkwardly.
My mother gently hassles him for him B+, rather than an A, in Bio 101— she looked up his grades in the university system— but I can already tell she’s going to love this guy. Good hair and good conversation skills are my mother’s kryptonite.
Despite the fact that I appreciate those things just as much, I have to admit, I’m still not thrilled about Bradley. Finn actually put it best this morning over the blueberry pancakes he’d made us for breakfast.
“It’s because guys like that, they’ve always had everything. Money, power, girls, prestige, opportunities,” he’d said.
“Well, yeah,” I’d replied. “But I’ve had a lot of privileges too. That doesn't make me the worst by default. But for some reason I think Bradley is sort of the worst.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” Finn cajoled me, kissing the inside of my wrist. “It’s because Bradley doesn’t know he’s always had everything. He just thinks that’s how life is. He gets what he wants, because that’s just how it works. Guys like that wouldn’t make it a day back where I’m from.”
I’d watched Finn speak, watched the way he stared down at his plate when he said all this. I’d begun to notice that whenever he spoke about his life before college, there was a bitterness to him, a hardness that I didn’t usually see. He seemed to be willing to talk about that time of his life— his mom, his dad, his home— but never exactly offered to talk about it, and so curious as I was, I never pushed him.
At the game, I grow certain that Finn was right about Bradley
Bradley didn’t have to fight to get my mother’s approval. He didn’t have to fight to get Mandy, even, or to get great seats, or to go get a professional hot shave before the game (which he tells a passing buddy about like it’s a necessity, not a luxury). This is just Bradley’s life, and as far as he can tell, it always will be. I watch Mandy hanging onto his arm, and in some small way, begin to understand part of Bradley’s appeal. It must be reassuring, after all, to hitch yourself to someone who always has things go his way.
The game starts, and I can’t help smiling when I see Finn run onto the field with the rest of the team. The stadium is in a frenzy at this point, a total flurry of green and gold and screaming and confetti and air horns. Bradley joins in one of the stadium-wide cheers; my sister follows suit, as does my mother, who despite being a moderate football fan never really does that sort of thing. I get on board as well— having someone to cheer for on the field makes the whole experience feel a lot more personal.
I don’t realize just how much more personal it feels until the game starts. Finn is starting. Adams had a horrible game last week, and rumor has it Finn might be taking over the quarterback duties fulltime.
Harton starts on the offense, which means Finn is front and center straight away. I’m no football expert, but even from here, I can tell he commands the team like a general. He seems confident about where the other players are at any given moment, he passes with total certainty, he moves the ball down the field piece by piece, but it’s clear that he’s always looking for an opportunity to make a big play. Always waiting for the moment the other team makes a mistake, leaves a spot open, lets their guard down.