For the Win Read Free

over, Sam and Jamie, each carrying full bottles of beer from the bar.
    “So Julian,” Sam says. “How did you end up living in a van…?”
    “By the river,” Jamie joins in with his best Chris Farley impression, chortling as though he’s said the most hilarious thing ever.
    “Just riding a wave of wanderlust, I guess.”
    “And you decided to come here?”
    I laugh. “To be honest this was my last stop, not the first.”
    The Rec Center received a sizeable grant to put toward their youth athletics program. Sam and Jamie were two of the coaches brought on to work over summer break. They’re both younger than me, but seem fit and do a good job on the field. Sam even seems to have some genuine playing skills.
    “Do you play in school?” I ask him.
    “Yeah, at Erskine College. Just finished my freshman year.”
    “You guys have a pretty good team. How’s next season looking?” He looks surprised that I’m familiar with his school. It’s small and in the middle of nowhere, but Clemson isn’t exactly a huge town either. We just played in a higher division than Erskine.
    “I think we’ll do alright.” He narrows his eyes and studies my face. I look away from the table. We’re five years apart. He shouldn’t know who I am.
    “It’s been fun, but I’m going to head back,” I say, stretching as I stand.
    “You riding your bike?” Edgar asks, concern lining his forehead. “These beach roads get dark.”
    “I’ve got a light and reflectors. I’ll be okay.”
    “You sure you don’t want a ride?”
    “Nah.” I clap him on the back. “I’m good. See you in the morning.”
    The guys wave and I slip out of the bar, cursing myself for getting too chatty. Anonymity is what brought me to this tiny beach town, and any threat to that will drive me away.

 
    Reporter : Tell me and all our viewers about the diabetes.
    Julian : I have Type 1. Diagnosed when I was seven.
    Reporter : What does that mean?
    Julian : It means my body doesn’t create insulin the way it should, so I have to monitor my blood sugar closely.
    Reporter : Does it affect your playing ability?
    Julian : It can, if I’m not careful. I burn a lot of calories, which can throw my blood sugar off. It’s really important for me to maintain a healthy lifestyle.
    Reporter : Sounds pretty standard for any athlete at your level.
    Julian : It is, but at times it can still feel limiting. I can’t ever forget about it. *lifts up his shirt and reveals a small cannula device connected to a square box clipped to his waistband* Luckily technology makes it easier.
    Reporter : So it doesn’t affect your playing?
    Julian : Not if I do it right, no.
    Reporter : That seems like a lot of added pressure for an already stressful situation.
    Julian : Achieving your dream is never easy. We all have obstacles we’ve had to overcome to get to this place. This is just one of mine.
     

 
    Chapter 3
     
     
    My phone buzzes during my run, but I don’t recognize the number so I ignore it. It’s not local. It’s not my mom, so I push through the wind and head to the end of the beach.
    The second call comes while I’m making eggs on the tiny camper stove I’ve set up next to the van. I lay two pieces of bacon next to the eggs and scramble it all together. I’ve just started eating when Edgar walks by.
    “Smells good.”
    “Want some?” I offer.
    He holds up his mug of coffee and a bag from the local donut shop. “Got it—thanks.”
    “Thanks for inviting me last night. I tend to hole up by myself a bit much.”
    “Anytime.” My phone buzzes again from the floor of the van and Edgar looks at it. “Need to get that?”
    “You’d think.” I sigh, grabbing the phone while Edgar walks to the back door. “Hello?”
    “Hello, this is Kevin McDowell. I’m trying to reach Julian Anderson .”
    I freeze when I hear the name.
    “Hello?” he says. “You there?”
    “I, uh, I think you have the wrong number.”
    “Oh, is this...” I hear the sound of