Page 13 of Campus Heat

We all just stared at the whiteboard. What edge were we supposed to contain? They weren’t aligned pre-snap. And what were we supposed to communicate? Half our calls weren’t echoed. As for the system… We were literally adjusting play-by-play, as if we were improvising a language we didn’t speak. But no one asked those questions.

I sat there, helmet on and chin strap dangling as my eyes took in the board, but my mind was somewhere else. I was still trying to process everything that just happened on the field. The missed slide on the first drive. The depth mistake on the slant. The protection call that never echoed down the line.

If it hadn’t been for those things, we might’ve gotten somewhere. We probably would’ve had at least a few points. But no. Instead, there was a linebacker creeping inside that no one accounted for. We weren’t reading the same picture. We weren’t even looking at the same field.

“Coach, I think we just gotta accept that we don’t stand a chance right now,” I said.

“We’re not giving up yet. We still have the second half, so pull yourselves together, and get your asses back on that field,” Harris said, trying to downplay the situation.

The second half started, and it just proved my point. On our first possession, I forced a deep ball even though we hadn’t earned it. The coverage was tight, but I needed something. A play, a spark, a reason to keep going. So I hitched once and launched. But the safety never broke stride. He drifted under it like he’d been waiting there all night. Intercepted, and the return set them up for inside the thirty.

Two plays later, they got a touchdown. 28-0.

The next snap from the center came in low and hot. It struck my thigh and dropped straight down. For a fraction of a second, no one moved, but then both lines collapsed inward. I reached, but a defensive lineman fell on it first. He wrapped his arms around the ball, and then the visiting sideline erupted again.

They weren’t vicious though. In fact, they were almost bored. By the time the Cardinals hit 35-0, I could feel a clear shift in our huddle. Our voices were softer, eyes were darting around, and no one was suggesting adjustments anymore. We were literally just surviving while waiting for the match to end.

42-0. Their starters were out, but the backup was running the same defense with the same precision. They had the same depth and timing, and even the same discipline. That’s what really annoyed me. It wasn’t like they were more talented than us; they just had more structure.

The Cardinals scored again, and one of their linebackers jogged past me. “What the hell are you guys doing in practice?”

I wanted to answer him so badly. To tell him about the chaotic drills, the late installs, and the way protections were treated like suggestions instead of rules. But I kept my mouth shut.

At long last, the final whistle ended our misery. The final score of 42-0 glowed against the darkening sky. Salt in a gaping wound.

I couldn’t believe it. We were on home turf, and we couldn’t score a single point. Sure, it was on a soccer field, and we didn’t have a crowd, but still. We could’ve done so much better if we’d just worked together.

We lined up to shake the hands of the other team, and when the quarterback got to me, he pulled me in.

“Good luck this season, man,” he said, before turning to join his teammates.

I nodded, knowing he didn’t mean it in a bad way. He was just trying to show support. That didn’t mean I wasn’t furious though. I turned on my heel and headed back to the locker room.

“Ethan! Wait!” Elizabeth shouted as I entered the tunnel.

“I can’t deal with you right now,” I snapped, taking my frustration out on her.

“But—”

“Forget it, okay? Just leave me alone.”

6

Elizabeth

After another grueling practice session, Malik headed over to our side of the field and plopped down on the bleachers. He looked defeated, and I could tell that it was more than just the loss they took the previous weekend.

“Hey Tiny, how are you doing?” I asked, walking over to him.

“Girl… This whole situation with the team sucks balls. Not only did we get our asses handed to us on a silver platter last week, but Coach just told us we can’t afford a charter bus to go to our next game. Apparently the budget is tight, which I don’t get because we haven’t asked for anything. We don’t even have matching uniforms, man.”

“Yeah, that’s a tough one, but that doesn’t make it impossible. If the school doesn’t want to pay, we gotta make a plan to do it ourselves.”

“We tried that, but none of our parents are willing to put so much into the team for one game. We need our bus, otherwise we’re never going to make it through the season.”

The second he said that I got an idea, but it wasn’t something I could arrange by myself. I was going to need some serious help, so I turned around and called the rest of the girls over.

“Ladies, the guys need money to buy a bus so they can make their away games. Do you have any ideas?”