That evening, Coach Reeves calls your house.
Your mother answers, then hands the phone to you with the expression of someone not sure whether to be wary or grateful.
The coach gets right to it. “You free after school next Monday?”
You hesitate. “I guess?”
“Good. Come by the wrestling room.”
“For what?”
She snorts softly. “Because if this town insists on turning you into a legend, we might as well make you useful.”
You don’t understand until Monday.
