Chapter Text
"Hey Roy!" Ted calls once he's sure the kid's finished changing out of his kit. Roy grunts but moves into the doorway of the coaches office.
"What." He growls.
"Can I ask you a favor?" Roy just stares at Ted until Ted continues. "Sign this ball for me?"
Roy glances at the ball sitting on Ted's desk. Ted had Nate grab an extra one.
"You're not gonna sell it on Ebay or some shit, right?"
"I don't know what that is." Ted admits. "But no I ain't selling it. How much these go for anyways? Maybe I should sell it on E-bays."
"Fucking hell." Is all Roy says. "What's it for, then?"
"A kid I know. He's a huge fan." Ted already knows Roy's gonna sign it. He always stops and signs stuff for kids. Always paints on a smile and kneels down and says what's your name then?
"Fucking fine." Ted grins and hands Roy a marker to use.
"What's his name then?" Roy uncaps it and pulls the ball closer to him.
"Jamie." Ted supplies.
"He play?"
"Sure does! He's good at it too. Mint at it." Ted says, because he wants to try the word again.
"Never say that word again." Roy says, but he puts the marker to the ball and starts scratching something out.
"I 'preciate it Roy. He will too. He's gonna love this."
"Yeah whatever. See you tomorrow, coach."
Ted whistles as he walks home, ball under his arm. Jamie had seemed real upset yesterday.
Ted's got this real bad feelin' that Jamie and his dad fight a lot. He's got this worse feeling that Jamie's dad gets physical. 'Cept it's Jamie's dad. And Jamie always says he's gettin' into fights at school. Ted doesn't wanna believe someone would hurt their kid like that.
But Jamie's dad does yell a lot. Too many nights now Ted's been hearing it next door.
So Ted thinks maybe Jamie is upset 'bout more than just loosing his ball. But still, if there was something Ted can do to make Jamie's day a bit better, he'll do it.
He spots Jamie at the same tree he was sitting at yesterday, looking out at the park. He's watching a group of kids, younger than him, play with a football.
"Heya kid." Ted approaches softer this time.
Jamie doesn't look at him as he speaks. "Hey Ted." He says sadly. "'m sorry I yelled at you yesterday."
"Well hey, no worries kiddo. How've you been?"
Jamie shrugs.
"Thought you might say that." Ted says. "I got something for you."
Jamie turns around at this. His eyes immediately latch on to the football. Ted smiles as the life returns to Jamie's face, if hesitantly.
Ted holds it out for Jamie. Revels in the grin that paints the boys face.
"No way! Is this like, an official Richmond ball?" He scrambles to stand up and take hold of it.
"Sure is." Ted grins back. "Theres something special there too. On the other side."
Jamie turns the ball around.
Jamie,
Never stop playing.
Roy Kent
"Oh my god." Jamie says. "Oh my god!"
The kid starts jumping up and down, still staring at the writing. "Holy shit!"
Ted chuckles at his excitement. He thought it would make Jamie feel better.
"Holy-oh my god!" Jamie repeats as he reads the message again. "Thank you!
And then Jamie wraps his arms around Ted. "This is like," he pulls away, "the coolest thing ever."
"This is-this is- it's like-"
"Mint?" Ted supplies.
"Fucking mint coach!" And Jamie's still grinning wide.
"I'm glad you like it!" Ted says, watching as the kids runs his hands over the ball, stares at the message longer.
"I think this is, like, the best thing thats ever happened to me." Jamie's still smiling, but he's calmed down a little bit. "Thank you." Jamie says it so earnestly, looks right into Ted's eyes and everything.
"Course kid. Thought you seemed kind of down yesterday. Everything okay?"
"Everything's great now." Jamie responds with a smile, even though Ted was kind of hoping he'd open up a bit.
"Happy to help." Ted says.
Jamie just keeps staring at words. He doesn't even kick it around when Ted leaves. Feels wrong to. Like, what if he smudges it?
Jamie,
Never stop playing
Roy Kent
Like, yeah, the Roy Kent! And he knows Jamie's name!
He'd have to hide it, course. But Jamie has a ball again and it's signed by Roy Kent.
Later that night, dad's pissed off about something or another and grabs Jamie by the arm. He drags Jamie around a bit and gets a few hits to Jamie's stomach.
But his face is clear, meaning Jamie will go to school tomorrow. And once dad's passed out, Jamie pulls his ball, signed by Roy Kent, out of his bag and he sits with it in his lap. And as Jamie quietly cries in pain and traces his fingers over the groove in his new football, Jamie thinks things aren't too bad.
Jamie's called down to the guidance office the next day. He's kind of been expecting it.
Mrs. Bell is about a hundred-something years old and her skin's sagging off her face in a way that makes it hard not to stare. She's nice though, sometimes.
"Hello, Jamie. How are you this morning, dear?" Mrs. Bell smiles at him once Jamie gets herded inside.
Jamie takes a seat across from her desk. He sinks super low into the cushion and it's kind of uncomfortable. Mrs. Bell has Jamie's folder open in front of her. His grades are displayed on her computer screen.
"Fine, Mrs. Bell." Jamie responds, not making eye contact.
"I wanted to talk with you about your first semester, Jamie."
Jamie hides his hands under his shirt and looks out the window.
"Year ten can be a big transition with all the new material to prepare you for GCSEs, but I know you can do better than this, Jamie." Mrs. Bell says it with an accusatory tone.
"I'll do better this semester." Jamie promises. Because he suddenly wants to leave the room. He doesn't like Mrs. Bell anymore. Her skin is too saggy and it isn't Jamie's fault he's stupid. She shouldn't expect anything from him.
Mrs. Bell sighs. "Why don't we talk about whyyour grades are so low, Jamie?"
Jamie twists his thumbs, pulls on his shirt tighter.
"Any ideas?" Mrs. Bell raises an eyebrow and Jamie just shrugs.
"Your teachers tell me you haven't been doing your homework, for starters." Mrs. Bell provides.
Jamie tries. He does. Sometimes his attempts at homework are so pitiful it's better to not turn anything in at all.
"They also tell me you haven't been paying attention in class." Mrs. Bell continues.
And, okay, yeah. That one's probably on Jamie. But, honest, he tries to listen to the teachers. It's just, like, sometimes hard to have to listen to them talk and write it down and try to decipher what it all actually means. Easier to look out the window sometimes.
Mrs. Bell waits. Jamie keeps his mouth shut.
"Alright, Jamie. Here's the deal. Every homework assignment you don't turn in you'll be serving an after school detention-"
"What!" Jamie's hands are suddenly out from under the hem of his shirt. He sits up angrily. "You can't do that!"
Mrs. Bell just looks back at him, unimpressed. "This is the best course of action, Jamie. Not only will turning in your homework get your grades up, but it will help you do better on tests."
"But Mrs. Bell! That's not fair." Jamie pushes down the tears. He's not a fucking pussy. He won't cry. It's just, he doesn't do a lot of his homework. He can usually manage one assignment a night. Maybe two.
"I think you'll find it much easier to find the motivation to do your homework when you have some external forces." Mrs. Bell says patiently as Jamie flounders.
"I really think this is going to help you Jamie. That's all I want to do." Mrs. Bell says once it's clear Jamie has nothing to say.
Jamie looks away because if he sneers at her he'll probably get his first detention.
"Your father wasn't able to come to meet us here, but you're old enough to have this conversation on your own. Make sure you let him know about our new plan, okay?"
Our new plan, like it was something Jamie and Mrs. Bell put together or something. Like it was anything more than do your homework or you get a detention. like it did anything to actually help Jamie.
"Yeah. Fine." And then another student is there to talk to Mrs. Bell and Jamie clenches his jaw as he leaves the room.
He storms back to math class. He grumbles from his seat and glares at his paper when the homework gets passed out.
Jamie accumulates three more homework assignments that day. He grumbles, but promises himself he'll get them done. Even if they aren't done well. He just had to turn something in.
So that evening instead of sneaking his football out like he was planning, Jamie pulls out his first homework assignment.
Dad should be home late today, so he starts at the kitchen table, though he's sure to keep everything neat so he can relocate at the sound of the door opening. It's easier to focus out here.
He starts with English, cause he knows that'll be the worst. Fucking English.
It ain't even anything bad. He's just got to read this short story and answer some questions on it. It shouldn't be anything bad.
But he reads the words and rereads the words and he still can't figure out what the fuck is going on. So he slows down and figures out one word at a time and it takes him about three minutes to read and understand the first sentence.
And there's more tears welling. And Jamie won't cry, cause, like, he ain't a pussy, but he just doesn't get how other kids can read so fast.
He manages, barely. But then he makes it to the questions at the end and realizes he actually didn't understand any of it at all.
It's asking about, like, the symbolism of the dentist. How the fuck should Jamie know? Or like, why the dad took the son storm chasing.
Jamie rereads it again with the questions in mind. Then reads the questions again. He doesn't fucking know.
It's some bullshit story about this dad taking his son to find a tornado, 'cept there aren't any so they go home. Then the mum dies.
So Jamie crumples his paper and shoves it in his bag. He'd get to it later.
He tries at math. Actually manages a fair bit until the word problems at the bottom. He ends up doing random calculations with the numbers he picks out in the paragraph. It don't got to be right just done.
And that's, like, one and half assignments done. Which is basically halfway. And Jamie's got about two hours until dad comes home and he really wants to get outside and kick around his new ball.
So Jamie puts his homework back and reverently picks up his Roy Kent ball. He had initially sworn to never kick it or use it all, but he doesn't have another ball, and Jamie kind of feels like he's going to explode if he doesn't play some football.
He runs into Ted on his way out. He's earlier than normal. Jamie had been kicking his ball to the park but stops it in front of Ted before the road.
"Hey Jamie!" Ted grins as usual. "Glad to see you're putting the ball to good use."
"Thanks again, coach." Jamie places a foot on top of the ball and pushes it back a little to catch with his other foot.
"School okay and all that? You're getting a bit of a late start."
Jamie shrugs. "Homework." Is all he says and Ted just nods in solidarity.
"Man, can't say I miss high school." Ted gets a bit of a faraway look in his eyes before a smile returns to his face. "But hey, college is where the real fun happens."
Jamie almost laughs. It comes out a slight chuckle. "Not sure I'm cut out for university coach."
Ted doesn't laugh with him. He just frowns. "I wouldn't say that Jamie."
"I'm like, failing me courses Ted." Jamie looks down at his feet. Maybe he shouldn't have told Ted that. Maybe the coach doesn't really need to know how stupid Jamie is.
"I'm sorry to hear that kiddo." Ted doesn't laugh at him, at least.
Jamie shuffles a bit.
"Well hey, y'know I used to coach college football?" Jamie nods, cause he saw about it on the news. American "football".
"Well, in order to coach at Wichita State, I had to teach as well. I wasn't so great at the big lectures, but I was pretty good one-on-one, or so I heard. I ended up teaching English, good a subject as any, I suppose. All that to say if you need any help with English I can give it a shot."
Ted looks thoughtful for a moment. "Course, I know American English. Language is the same, 'course, but don't ask me for help spelling colour or defence."
Jamie smiles a little, but dwells on the idea. "I might... like, take you up on that one day, coach." Cause English is Jamie worst subject.
Ted grins ever wider. "I'd like that." And Jamie almost believes it's sincere.
Ted straightens up, "well I'm headed in. You be careful crossing the street okay? You better pick that ball up and walk across. Look both ways."
"Uhm, sure coach." Jamie usually looks both ways before kicking the ball across the street and running after. It never gets Jamie into any trouble, though he has had some close calls.
But Ted's looking at the street all worried and then looks back to Jamie and- oh for fucks sake. Jamie picks up his ball and Ted smiles.
Jamie doesn't set the ball down until he's crossed the street. He turns back around once he's there and catches a glimpse of Ted entering their block.
On one hand, Jamie could, like, really use help in English. And he likes Ted a whole lot more than most of his English teachers.
On the other hand... Jamie would have to, like, read in front of Ted. Which he can't do and for some reason Jamie really doesn't want Ted to know this. He wants Ted to like him or something.
So Jamie dismisses the idea. He kicks his ball around for an hour and when he gets back inside he feels a bit lighter and is able to tackle his chemistry homework.
But when he shows up to English the next day, he realizes he never actually answered any of the questions.
When Mr. Halman walks around to collect homework, he just grunts as Jamie's empty desk. When he passes it back out at the end of class, he hands Jamie a pink detention slip.
Jamie won't, like, cry. He's not a pussy.
"Where the fuck were you?" Dad grunts from the couch when Jamie gets home.
"Out." Jamie grumbles as he walks past to get to his bedroom.
"Really?" Dad asks rhetorically. "Cause school said y'were at detention."
Jamie clenches his jaw. "Yeah. So?"
So what? So it's not like Dad actually cares if Jamie even graduates. Jamie isn't his problem the moment he turns 18, as Dad loves to remind him.
"Don't talk to me like that!" But Dad doesn't move from his spot on the couch as he yells it. "I don't want to hear about you getting any more fucking detentions. Just keep your dam head down."
Jamie rolls his eyes, cause Dad can't see him from this angle. "Fine." He says.
"Hey!" And Dad does turn around at that and points a finger out towards Jamie. "I'm getting tired of this attitude. Cut it out." And his voice is dangerous, but when Jamie just nods and keeps his head down Dad turns back around and Jamie is let off the hook.
Over the next two weeks, Jamie has detention almost every other night. At some point in there, Dad gets real pissed off and Jamie ends up with bruises lining his arms.
He barely has any time to play football, cause by the time he's home from detention he has an hour or so before Dad gets home, and he's still trying to keep his Roy Kent ball a secret.
Jamie is fucking exhausted. And every night he gets home and he tries so dam hard to do his homework and he can't. Fuck this.