Instead, as we drove the short distance from the station to our home, I tried to act as if nothing was amiss, asking simple, motherly questions about the journey and whether she had managed to have lunch.This innocent chat managed to fill the time it took to get home. When we arrived, Izzy took her bag straight up to her room while I made that most universal of remedies: tea. She spent rather a long time upstairs; long enough for me to begin to get worried but as I started to climb the stairs with a teacup in my hand, she emerged from the bathroom, red-eyed and runny-nosed.She had clearly been crying but from the way she took herself quickly back into her room calling out that she would be down in a minute, she didn’t want me to know this.I returned to the kitchen and waited. A few minutes later Izzy entered the room in her pyjamas though it was barely past seven o’clock and perched on a tall stool at the breakfast bar. I didn’t need the psychology training I had done at University. So if you can't be part of the solution, then add to the problem. We found a seat outside with some familiar faces and started downing the drinks.I could see Ryan keeping his eye out for any sign of the fabled giant who was apparently going to kick our asses if we fucked with the Cardinals. It was only an hour before they rolled in, most of the football team, still wearing their jackets and hats and assorted douchebag paraphernalia. Most of our team were with us and there was an instant stand-off.Their quarterback and linebacker, along with a running back and a block came over to us with folded arms. 'Well, well, if it isn't the retarded kids, ' said the linebacker, whom I later found out was called Jimmy.I should probably describe Jimmy. I had imagined him for some reason being black, but he was actually about six foot four, a hundred and fifty plus kilos, (which roughly means three hundred and thirty pounds) of pure redneck. He had beady eyes, a tattoo of a snake running all the.
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