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"Did your father do this to you?" Mrs. Taylor asked.
Tim shifted on the couch in the guidance counselor's office. Stared at the wall over her shoulder. Wondered how many times he could punch the wall before he broke his hand. "No, ma'am."
"You can tell me the truth, you know. You can tell me who did this."
Tim finally looked at her, because he'd never get out of there otherwise. "I did this to me."
Mrs. Taylor paused. Blinked. Said, "Well, try not to do it again, huh?"
"Yeah, okay," Tim said.
"Damn, son," Smash said in the hallway.
"Don't even start," Tim warned him. Getting the shit kicked out of him was his own business. Nobody had ever said anything before.
"I'm just saying," Smash said, looking him up and down, mouth twisted like he was amused and pissed off at the same time. "Save some of that for the game, Riggins."
Tim thought about his dad leaving, and said, "Don't worry. I got plenty left."
Landry found him in the stands before practice, took one look at Tim's face, pursed his lips, and whistled. Or tried to, anyway. Ended up sounding like a lot of hot air being shoved through his teeth.
"Shut up, it's genetic," Landry said, clomping up the stands and sitting down. "So. Should I see the other guy?"
"What?" Tim asked.
Landry waved his hand at Tim's face. "The guy who ruined your good looks, gorgeous."
Tim shrugged and finished his coke. "Let me give you some advice, Landry."
Landry smirked a little, leaning closer. "Okay, this ought to be good."
"Never drink and tackle," Tim said.
Landry's eyes went wide, and then he just brayed like a donkey for a really long time. "My God, you are just not the sharpest tool in the shed, are you, Riggins?"
Tim couldn't argue with that.
"You're like a cautionary tale," Landry said. "No, no, seriously, man. What the hell?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Tim said. He wasn't good at talking in the first place, and besides, if Landry knew what was up and still made fun of him for it, Tim would have to kill him. Billy had specifically told him this morning that he didn't have bail money this week, and if Tim pulled any of that stupid shit, Billy would just let him rot in that damn jail cell.
It'd be bad if he couldn't play in the next game.
"You sure?" Landry asked. "I mean, maybe I could guess. Is this about a girl? Because I am very familiar with girl trouble. I have, in fact, been counseling my good friend Matt Saracen through his girl trouble."
Landry turned to wave at Saracen, who was standing outside the school with his girl, staring at him and Landry in the stands like somebody had squirted Ben Gay in his jock. Julie poked his shoulder.
Tim tried to smile, and it hurt his face. "Mm hmm."
Landry put his hand over the Pantera logo on his T-shirt. "What, you don't believe me?"
"I'm sure you're a real ladies man. I'm just taking a little break, that's all."
"From women?" Landry asked.
"Yeah."
Landry's eyes bugged out. "Would you please tell me, and I mean this in the nicest possible way, what the hell is wrong with you?"
Tim picked at the hole in his jeans, fingernails scraping his knee. Couldn't do anything with Lyla if he ever wanted Six to talk to him again, and if he messed up with Tyra one more time, that'd be it with her, too. "I'm trying to fuck up at only one thing at a time, I guess."
"Huh," Landry said. "That's actually not a deeply stupid line of reasoning."
"Thanks," Tim said.
"So, no girls?"
Tim shook his head.
"What about guys?" Landry asked.
Tim looked at him. Landry had his chest puffed out like a hot air balloon, smiling fit to bust. "What?"
"I'm just saying, if you're giving up girls, I know a couple of guys who'd totally be interested," Landry said slyly.
Even for Tim, it was easy to see how Landry was expecting this to go, so he considered it. "Are any of them hot?"
The smile slipped off Landry's face. "What?"
"You said it yourself. Tyra's probably the hottest girl in town. I don't wanna settle for less," Tim said.
"You are so fucking with me right now," Landry said, squinting at him. "Don't get me wrong. I admire that."
"Don't start something you're not willing to finish," Tim said. He stood up.
"Oh, I'm willing to finish," Landry told him, standing up and stepping close until they almost bumped chests.
Not exactly intimidated, Tim said, "I gotta get to practice."
"Well, that's a very convenient excuse!" Landry called after him.
Tim flipped him off.
The locker room was emptying out. Coach Taylor put his hand on Tim's shoulder. "You all right to play today?"
"Yeah, Coach," Tim said.
"You have a talk with the guidance counselor?" Coach asked.
"Yeah."
Coach's hand got heavier on his shoulder. Tim kinda wished he had a bruise there. "Am I gonna hear anything from the guidance counselor that I don't like?"
"Is that legal?"
Coach frowned at him. "Just answer the question, son."
"No, sir. You won't."
Coach smacked his shoulder. "Good, that's what I like to hear."
Billy was watching TV and drinking a beer when Tim got home from practice. He glanced up when Tim walked in the door.
"Hey," Tim said.
Billy didn't say anything. Just turned back to the TV. During a commercial, he said, "Some weird kid called. Said something about a score you need to settle?"
"Heh," Tim said. Maybe he'd go scare the shit out of Landry later.
Billy relaxed a little, and Tim sat down on the couch. The news came on.
"Sorry," Tim said. "You were right."
"Damn it, Tim," Billy snapped. He rubbed his eyes.
"Sorry."
Billy sighed. "Yeah, I know."