“Win on three!” he shouts, pumping his fist in the air, and I raise mine. We count down, shouting as we break, and I move to sit on the bench with the other inactive players. Andrew, the kicker who I’m backup for, shoves me in the shoulder jokingly, and I send him an uneasy smile. He recently rolled an ankle during practice and won’t be able to play. But there’s a huge chance a field goal won’t even be needed for the game. As the first period starts, I rest my elbows on my knees while running my hands through my hair, and I hope with everything in me that we win.
I don’t feel it—the two hours that have passed. Though, a quick look at the clock and seeing we have five minutes left and are down by two points is enough to confirm. Sweat starts beading at my brow, and I hope Coach decides to go with one final play for a touchdown. Unfortunately, my name comes out of his mouth.
“Parker. You’re up.” My eyes snap to his, and I look between him and Andrew, my jaw hanging open slightly. Sweat runs in a full-on stream down my back and I slowly stand as I chug some water, not believing what I’m hearing. I walk closer as the shouts and cheers fade in and out. Coach is barking orders at me, and the pressure of our quarterback’s hand slapping my shoulder as a sign of encouragement snaps me back to the present.
We both nod, and Coach’s words, “We’re counting on you,” vaguely fill my ears.
I strap on my helmet as I jog behind the quarterback, and some team members cheer for me, thumbs-up sent my way. I walk to the line as our holder positions the ball, ready for me.
The clock is ticking and everyone has gone silent.I’m not supposed to be here. I’m the backup, the second choice—not first.This is the third game I’ve played in the whole season, and it just so happens that the outcome of our most important one rides on me.Why did Andrew have to get hurt?My breaths reverberate in my ears and I try to think of something that’ll get me to be calm.
I have faith in you, always, Liam.
Bianca’s voice sounds in my head and I feel a little lighter. A weight is lifted off my chest, the haze clears, and with a determined look, I kick the ball. Everyone watches as it heads straight between the goalposts; the crowd erupts in cheers.
A choked laugh leaves me and my head turns to the scoreboard, my success pushing us to win by one point. The guys run toward me and they hoist me on their shoulders as they shout about our victory. We all chant as the adrenaline soars through the roof. They put me down as Coach grabs my hand, bringing me in for a side hug. He gives me a look as if to say he knew I could do it, and I smile when the team dumps red Gatorade on him.
My stomach hurts as I laugh, and I turn to run toward one of my teammates. We jump, our shoulders clashing in midair. Twisting, I finally see Mom and Dad waving at me and jog over to them, embracing them gently, Mom squeezing me back.
“We’re so proud of you, amor!” Mom hugs me once again from the side, and I’m happy for their praise. Thing is, nothing will compare to when I’ll hear it from my best friend, my lucky charm.
Heading to the locker room, holding back the urge to call her right now, I stuff my things in my bag. But as I go to exit, the guys stop me.
“Parker, where are you going? We’re gonna celebrate at Coach’s house.”
I nod, moving to give an excuse before Andrew holds a hand up. “C’mon, you gotta come, you can talk to your girl after.” Everyone hoots, and exaggeratedoohs start while I roll my eyes.
“One hour,” I relent, and they all cheer. Keeping my promise to Bianca at the forefront, I agree to not stay a minute more, which they thankfully respect. Something along the lines of hope blooms as I feel acceptance from them for the first time since joining the team. I catch a ride to Coach’s house. I joke and smile as my teammates act out the plays they did, as well as my winning field goal. Thinking that it’s been around an hour or so, I click my phone on, the numbers eight and thirty causing something foul to curl up behind my ribs.Even if it’s technically early for me, it’s almost midnight for her in Philly.
I raise my hand. “Hold up, guys.”
“Parker, wait, where are you going?” someone shouts for me, but I don’t pay attention as the ringing stabs at me little by little. I head to where I left my bag, rummaging around it to take out the gift, then hurry outside. I switch to a video call, like Ipromised, my own misery staring back at me. I mean, she’ll understand, right? It was an accident.
The call gets declined and my heart aches that much more. My phone rings, and it’s her calling back through a normal phone call, which stings, but at least it’s something.
Her sleepy voice flows through the speaker. I want to be teasing and comment on her husky voice, but now’s not the time. “Hey, Freckles.” The line goes silent and I close my eyes, hoping she didn’t hang up. She takes a deep breath, relief filling me when I hear it, but dread still comes along for the ride. “Happy birthday.”
“Thanks,” she mutters, and I know there’s no number of sweet nothings I can say to fix things, so I go with the truth.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier. I know you have a test tomorrow, which is why you wanted to talk ear—”
She cuts me off, putting a stop to my rambling. “Did your game just end?” How I wish I could say yes. Icouldsay it ran late, but I can’t, and I won’t lie to her.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “No. It ended around six.” I can almost see her doing the math in her head when she mumbles a quiet sound of acknowledgment. “We won, and it was actually me who kicked the winning field goal, so that’s why we’re out celebrating. Time slipped away, even though that’s not an excuse. But I didn’t forget entirely, plus I wanted to show you the gift I got you over video.” A small hint of giddiness starts when I remember what I got her, and I know she’s going to love it.
“I’m proud of you, Liam. I knew you would do great when Coach finally gave you a chance.” My heart buzzes with the praise, but then shrivels when her voice cracks on the last word. I don’tbother with the details of the win, the hitch in her voice pointing to something much bigger, more important. “Now that you won the game, you’re probably gonna be busier than you’ve been lately, huh?”
I raise an eyebrow, not knowing where she’s heading. I mean, practices have been brutal since we’ve been prepping for this game, but I always try my best to make it up to her. “Well, possibly, but that doesn’t mean I won’t have time for you.” She sighs sadly, and I realize I haven’t been doing as well as I thought.
“Liam.” She pauses and her voice wobbles as if she’s stopping herself from crying. “I waited for your call for hours, trying so hard to stay awake since you said we would talk tonight.” My shoulders sag, and I mentally curse myself for making her feel this way. She’s my best friend—in my heart, more than that—yet she’s hurting because of something I did.
“I’m sorry.” I hate how shallow those words sound, but they’re all I’ve got. “I didn’t mean to, really. It’s just ...”
“Football,” she finishes for me, lowly muttering, “it always is.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She stays silent before sighing tiredly. “Nothing ... Um, how’s your week been besides the game?”
