“Chris said. “It’s cool.” “No, it’s not cool,” he said. “I was out of line. Like way out of line. Calling you the brain like Jimmy does.” He shook his head. “Talking to you like that . . . that’s not me.” “I thought maybe I did something,” Scott said. “Not you. Me. I’m the stupid one.” “Not a problem.” They were sitting in the grass. The dogs were gone. Chris said, “I’m the one with the problem.” “When you’re friends with somebody,” Scott said, “then it’s your problem, too.” He stopped there for... a second, not wanting this to come out sounding like some big deal. But knowing that it was, right now, the biggest possible deal. “And you and me . . . we’re still friends, right?” “We’re friends,” Chris said, “even if I didn’t act like one in town.” “Now all you’ve gotta do is tell me what the problem is,” Scott said. “Reading or being on the team?” “Both.” Then he tried to explain to Scott about dyslexia. And how it could drag him down from behind better than any tackler on a football field.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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