“Isaiah,” he says. I nod and turn and start walking away, slowly. “Damn, coach,” one of the players says. “Lady Killer,” another laughs... I roll my eyes as I continue walking. “I’m glad I don’t have to spend another bus ride with you dumb asses,” the Coach says. “Take your bags, get into your cars and go home. I’ll see you at practice next week.” *** I’m about to open the door to my black Camero when a hand stops me. “Sorry about the boys,” the voice says. I look up and see Isaiah; he’s. Running a hand over one of the covers, his brow furrowed, but he didn’t reply.She sighed again and joined him by his side. She pointed a finger at some teen in pigtails with polka dot panties clutching a teddy to her bare chest. “Sammy, this is pornography. Do you know what that is? It’s images of men and women—““—fucking.” He finished for her.“Samuel!” She had to stop herself from smacking him upside the head. It wasn’t his fault that he had no social filter, but it was still shocking. More

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