Chapter 4The next morning, every step, every movement was painful. At times it felt like something or the other was going to snap or fall off. When I sat down in homeroom, I almost let out a groan. I managed to meet all my classes that day, but when the coach wanted me to suit out in shorts for PE, I had to play sick. Hell, I was sick.
“What’s ailing you, Greyhorse?” Coach Gibbins was a broad-shouldered man who was still in good shape even if he was coming up on forty.
“All over. I’m sick, Coach.”
He looked at me so hard I knew he’d figured out my problem. I thought for a minute he was going to make me strip anyway, and if he saw my bruises, he’d call the cops. It was child abuse, pure and simple. Unless it wasn’t—you know, because I was nineteen now. Still, the authorities might raise
