The door creaked open, clearing my bad mojo.
Ryker came around a bank of lockers, dressed like the rest of us in jeans and a team shirt, carrying a box. “Here are the jerseys to give to the girl you kiss tonight.” He dropped the box in the middle of the room, the thump sounding explosive. “Before you grab a shirt, I need everyone to gather ’round.”
“Is Haven allowing you to participate in the festivities?” Vin asked Ryker.
Our team captain stood on the bench with an expression that signaled that was none of anyone’s business. “She’s all for the tradition. Now, listen up. Tonight is one of the best nights for Lakemont football. The Wolf Howl hasn’t failed us in the time I’ve been playing. At midnight, lights go out, we get ninety seconds to kiss a girl and then disappear before the lights come back on. Straight and simple.”
“Why disappear?” a freshman backup kicker asked.
“My dad is an alumnus,” Cane, a wide receiver who would be starting next year after I graduated, piped up. “He said the disappearing part is about mystery and fun. But if a wolf is still kissing a girl when the lights come on, it could mean he’s found his mate. That’s how he found my mom.”
Ajax smirked. “Don’t forget to add the number draw to that scenario, Cane. If the random generator hits your jersey number after the howl, then fans believe that fate picked your mate, and that means we’re a lock to win homecoming.”
All of us had heard that superstition, but in my time at Lakemont, no one had found their mate. Sure, the hype of the Wolf Howl and kissing a girl seemed to bring us luck because as Ryker had said, we hadn’t lost a homecoming game in our time at Lakemont. Still, we were diving into the weeds too much.
“Look.” I raised my hands. “The main point about the tradition is kissing a girl for good luck. The rest of it is to motivate fans. Don’t rely on a superstition to win a game. All of us need to have our heads on straight tomorrow and play the best game we can. Nothing more.”
“Lucas is right,” Ryker said. “So after the pep rally, if you’re going to hang out, don't get drunk. Come in tomorrow morning smelling of alcohol, and Coach will bench you. Hill Country College is tough this year. We can’t afford another loss due to hangovers or anything else. Are we clear?”
“Yes, captain!” the players shouted in unison.
“Good. We have about thirty minutes. Grab a shirt from the box and finish getting dressed.” Then Ryker tipped his head at me. “Coach wants to see you and me in his office.”
Immediately, panic set in as I remembered our jaunt to the Silver Spur Casino. That must be why Coach wanted to see us. Maybe a student had been there that night, witnessed my run-in with Josh, took pictures, and put them on social media. Coach hated bad press, but that was mild compared to breaking school policy about gambling, and even though I didn’t gamble, stepping foot in a casino could be construed that I had.
As we entered the hallway, nervous wouldn’t even begin to describe the tension-filled party going on in my stomach.
“Do you know what he wants?” I asked as our sneakers squeaked against the floor.
“Not a clue. But if it’s about the casino trip, he would’ve had us in his office already.”
“It’s not my performance.” I’d been playing well in practice, channeling my pent-up energy about Mazzie into running so hard it hurt. That pain was far better than the one in my heart.
The smell of worn cleats and dirty socks hit me when I walked into Coach’s office, my pulse racing, my brow lined with sweat.
Ryker sidled up behind the two metal chairs as we both stood at attention.
Coach didn’t even bother with the preamble as he leaned forward on his battered wooden desk. “Anything you two want to tell me?”
Ryker and I exchanged a knowing look.
“Sir,” I said, “we were only there to pick up a friend.”
Coach swiped a hand over his bald head. “By there, do you mean the casino?”
Ryker and I both nodded.
Coach pressed his forearms on his desk, which was flanked by laminated game charts and a mug that said Best Coach in Texas.
And he was. The man had a solid reputation where mostly everyone he came into contact with showed him respect. He had a slew of championships on his resume, and players vied for a position on his team.
“Are you trying to ruin your future in the NFL?”
My stomach fell to the floor. “No, sir.”
Coach’s glare pinned me to the wall like a goddamn tack. “If you were there to pick up a friend, then why were you arguing with a casino guest?”
Rage jerked my shoulders upward. “He got rough with my girl. Coach, we didn’t gamble.”
