Help decide what to wear…
I watch as the little dots bounce up and down, up and down. It feels like it takes forever for her response to come through, only for me to feel disappointment but also relief at the one-word answer.
Oh…
Or not. Just a suggestion.
No, I don't mind.
I guess I can send you pictures of my options.
Only if you want. I probably won't get to them until after the game though.
I am going to get us both in trouble. I should have just told her never mind. But I don’t want her tonever mind. Call me fucking selfish.
Well, Ryen is waiting on me and we better hurry, but maybe I'll see you at the game?
Sounds good. Have fun Cadence.
I set the phone back down and look at myself one more time in the mirror. The fog from the hot water starts to cover the glassy surface as I yank my shirt off over my head. I don’t know what the hell it is I’m doing with Cadence but whatever comes from this, I know one thing is absolutely for sure . . . her brother can never know.
Friday nights always carry a sense of euphoria with the lights illuminating the field, the people in the stands wearing numbers and names of their favorite players, and the adrenaline that comes with being on field and hearing the crowd go crazy. But I’ll never get used to the feeling that students and parents and people I don’t even know show up to these high school games and know my name. They cheer for me. Granted, they cheer for the team as a whole as well but hearing my name chanted amongst the rest of the cheers is a wild feeling. I hear it being shouted from the stands along with Brayden’s name and a few others on our team, of course. And then you also have the other side where names from the visiting team, the Panorama High Panthers, are also being called out.
Pressure builds in my chest when I take a glance out, seeing a smear of faces screaming and people jumping up and down. My heart pounds in my chest when I look over at Brayden who nods at me, a signal to be ready.
And I am, but something calls to me. Something is pulling me in the direction of the stands and I know it’s only because I can sense she’s got her eyes on me. But I can’t look. I want to, but I have to avoid it because right now, I have to stay focused.
There are only ten seconds left in the game and we have the ball. The score is close, but the Panthers are surprisingly up by a field goal. This means that we have ten seconds to score a touchdown and we’re on our own ten-yard line. Should besimple enough, but the urge to break my focus and find the only pair of eyes that I truly care about watching me right now is strong. I have to resist.
I set my position, making sure I’m watching the ball from my periphery, ready for the snap. The crowd seems to quiet down for a moment but right as the center snaps it, cheers erupt as I take off on my route, juking past the defender and running left.
Shouting and cheering reverberates as I turn my body toward where I know the throw is heading, timing it so that it’ll land perfectly in my hands, but then the crowd dies down with a loud sigh of defeat while the other side breaks out into a celebration.
I turn to see what happened. “Fuck!” I shout. Brayden got sacked. I turn to look at the time clock. Four seconds left and now, we’re moved back onto the twelve-yard line.
I watch as a few of our guys help our quarterback up off the ground and he looks out at me, shaking his head in disappointment. It’s too damn early in the season for him to be getting sacked like that, something he’s likely thinking as well.
I hurry back to the huddle, feeling a sense of urgency swim through me when I realize that this is our last chance. Bray shouts off the play, every single one of us feels the need to get this right.
“Protect your fucking quarterback,” I shout to the O-line before running off to my position. I watch for Bray’s signal, a slight kick of his foot and I run over to the right side of him. Right as I set my feet, he approves the snap and the ball flies back to him. I take off, hitting a gap in the line before shooting out to the end zone. No one is chasing me and the safety for the opposing team ran too far in. But I feel him getting closer as he reroutes and I time the moment I have to turn for the ball. I hit the two-yard line and swivel, seeing that the ball is falling right into position so I jump up and catch it beautifully between my gloved hands.
I feel my feet hit the ground right as I get hit in my gut, and I can feel the pressure as my back hits first and then my head. And for a second, I worry that it wasn’t enough, that I didn’t make it in. The ringing in my ears causes me to blink hard, trying to focus and when I right myself, I can see the design of the end zone underneath me and the sound of Harper High explodes into cheers. I jump up and see my team running straight for me and that’s when I know . . . we fucking won!
High fives are thrown around. Brayden is jumping up and down in excitement. And while I’m eager to celebrate this win with the guys, I can only find myself doing one thing.
I look out, and it takes me no more than a second to find her eyes amongst the sea of people clapping and cheering. And to my surprise, she’s already looking down at me. I catch her grin, a shy gesture that she ducks her head to keep hidden. She’s clapping her hands while her friends are jumping around next to her, and only when one of the guys slap me on my helmet do I permit myself to look away.
We all head out into the center field to shake hands and then we run off into the locker room. I love the victory. I’m proud of the gameplay. This game means everything to me and I can’t see my life without it. But the more and more I pull attention to the one forbidden aspect of my life, the more I’m realizing that I truly only have football to be excited for, to look forward to.
What if I want more?
I head back into the locker room with the guys and we all start tearing the gear off our bodies as Coach comes in to talk up the win.
"Good fucking play fellas," he says to us as the guys clap. "But that was far too close for comfort and we cannot be letting mediocre teams like the Panthers think that they have a chance to win. And that sack, not okay. If you boys aren't going to be doing your job by blocking for Brayden, then I'll start movingguys to the sidelines. That ball was going in if you would have protected him."
The whole team focuses on the coach's words, knowing that what he's saying holds truth. And even though a lot of it doesn't truly apply to me, I know that this team needs to buckle down and not make these rookie mistakes because if it continues, the scouts won't see the appeal to come to games and right now, I'm starting to feel like that is going to be my only option to get into college.
“Zach,” Coach says my name and I turn my head in his direction. “You did good out there, but you didn’t perform your best. Some of you are performing at abarely-almostlevel and I need you all to be on thethis-is-my-fucking-playlevel. Got it?” He nods his head at me, and I nod back
