"He outmaneuvered me," I admitted, head down to John. He was livid, fuming mad. Two clipboards down, probably a whole desk drawer to go.
"He outmaneuvered you." A mocked repetition. "Coach Davis is pissed. He's bitching about me to all the other coaches. What if I need a trade? Who will participate? No one."
I cowered in my seat begging myself not to cry. "I'll fix it."
A firm shake of the head. "It's too late. There's no one to trade Brady for now. He made sure of that."
"I'll talk to Coach Davis."
He took a moment, calmed himself and gazed over his desk. With a sharp exhale, he said, "I expect you to."
It was odd, the feeling rolling around in my stomach. throughout my childhood, whenever I'd disappointed my parents, I didn't feel like this. I didn't see that look in their eyes. Ra
