“All your coaches too.”
“Everyone. Norman, all coaches. Let’s go.”
I receive a lot of mixed expressions as the team gets to their feet and turns. Irritation is definitely one of them. Hopefully, they forgive me.
Lemon looks at me expectantly and I offer my hand. I barely hear his subtle intake of breath, but his eyes meet mine again and he takes my hand with a shy smile. “This is a good thing,” I promise.
He nods and I lead him back the way I came. We walk through campus, me and Lemon holding hands with the 112 players behind us in full gear, and the eleven coaches and whoever else is part of this massive crew.
I expect questions. I expect, at the very least, mumbling. But no one says anything as we progress on our field trip. Not untilwe get to the student building where every other team is waiting outside.
Lemon looks at me nervously. As soon as his team is gathered in close, I produce a blindfold. “We have a surprise for you,” I tell Lemon. “But I want you all to see it at the same time. So everyone is going to buddy with another athlete, you’re going to be blindfolded, and we’re going to bring you inside before we let you see.”
“This isn’t some hazing ritual, is it?” one of Lemon’s players asks.
“Peyton,” Lemon warns, without turning to look who talked.
The man named Peyton shrugs. “It seems fair right now when we’re surrounded.”
“Trust me?” I whisper.
Lemon licks his lips and while he remains somewhat nervous, he nods. I bring up the blindfold and secure it around his eyes.
“I won’t ever let you fall,” I murmur in his ear. He shivers, his hands briefly gripping the front of my shirt tightly.
Once he’s blindfolded, the rest of the teams move forward and make their way through the football players, each taking a buddy and blindfolding them.
“You’re right, Peyton,” I say as they’re all standing there blind with another person holding their hand to guide them in. “This could totally be some kind of ritual.”
“See?” he says with a big grin.
“It’s going to be the good kind,” someone else promises. One of the other athletes.
I bring Coach inside, telling him when to step over the plate at the door and when we’re transitioning onto a rug. It’s completely silent except for the shuffling of feet and the quiet murmurs of instructions.
We herd everyone into the middle of the gymnasium. When one of our players deposits one of Lemon’s players in the middle, it’s with the instruction that they can’t take off the blindfold until I say. Then they move to the perimeter behind the tables to get ready.
The doors closing is my cue that everyone is in place.
“When I say ‘one,’ you can take off your blindfolds. Ready?” A nervous but excited chorus of yeses answers me. “Three. Two. One.”
Lemon doesn’t move to take his off, so I do it for him as the rest of the room yells their congratulations. I was expecting surprise and maybe a little annoyance (even if he’s pretending) but I’m not prepared for the tears making his eyes glassy.
He looks around the room—at the banners, the food, the other teams and coaches and members of the athletic department. His lips are pressed together when he faces me again. His team has already started moving away as the other teams come out from around the tables. But Lemon remains in front of me.
“You did this for us?” he asks.
“We’re really,reallyproud of our football team. I hear it’s been twelve years since you’ve made it to the division playoffs and we’re so damn excited for you, Lemon. We wanted to make sure you all know that we’re rooting for you.”
“But…” He glances around. “They helped you?”
I sigh. “Lemon, yes. The only reason they don’t hang around you is because you don’t want them to. But they were excited to help. Immediately ready to do this with me. There wasn’t a single one of them who needed convincing or time to think about it. We’re ready to celebrate you.”
I was going to add ‘and commiserate your losses’ but that feels like a huge jinx right before their game, so I decide not to and let it go unsaid instead.
“There’s a lot of food here, but this is a room with over 200 athletes, so you better get a plate while there’s still some left.”
Lemon doesn’t move away. He steps into me and wraps his arms around my middle, burying his face in my neck. “Thank you,” he whispers.
