“Yes, Sir.”
“I’m sorry.” Coach Hasson twisted his face, cupping his ear. “I didn’t hear you.”
“I said, YES SIR,” Jase yelled, his voice carrying across the field.
“That’s more like it, Son. Last year was tough.” He grimaced. “We knew Rixon East would come at us with everything they had, and they did. It should have been us going to that championship game. But this year, State is ours. Now gather in.” We circled Coach, shoulder to shoulder, until he slipped into the formation, holding his fist in the air. Thirty-five fists followed, then Asher’s, then mine. Finally, Jase threw his fist up and said, “Raiders on three. One… two…”
Our battle cry filled the air, the ripple of energy palpable. There was nothing more electric, more fulfilling, than standing side-by-side with your teammates, your family, ready for a new season. We all felt it: the anticipation, the hint of things to come. We’d been unlucky last year, losing out at a shot at the State Championship to Rixon East. The only silver lining was those motherfuckers took a crushing defeat against Fieldson Hills.
This year though, this year it was ours. Jase was consumed with the idea of winning, of being the best, of getting his Championship ring before we graduated. And nothing and no one would stand in his way. Jason Ford would knock down anyone who dared try and stop him, and I couldn’t help but wonder if that extended to me. His best friend. His brother; maybe not in blood, but in all the ways that counted.
We all knew football meant sacrifice. It meant hard mornings in the gym and long days out on the field. It meant putting everything else second to the game: family, girls, classes, even though Principal Finnigan would have something to say about that. If you wanted to be the best, you had to give your all. Anything less was not an option. You had to live, eat, and breathe it until you bled your team colors. But it would all be worth it in the end. When the call came, it would all be worth it.
Wouldn’t it?
Hailee
“I can’t believe he said that.” Flick shook her head with incredulity as I told her all about Cameron’s little stunt earlier, as we ate ice-cream over at Ice T’s, a cute little place downtown.
“Believe it. I mean who the hell does he think he is?” Cameron hadn’t uttered a word to me in years, except for the odd insult or veiled threat.
She licked her Oreo and strawberry cone, frowning. “And here I really thought he wanted you.”
“Trust me, Cameron Chase does not want me,” I snorted. “He just wants me to stop messing with his beloved quarterback.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Do?”
“Yeah.” Her eyes darted to mine. “I mean, he threatened you.”
“It’s nothing new, Flick.” I’d been dealing with their shit for years. “If Jason backs down, so will I, but we both know that will never happen.”
“So I guess I know the answer to my next question.” Guilt flashed in her eyes causing me to incline my head as I studied her.
“Something you want to tell me?” My brow rose as I licked the spoon clean.
“Well, I was thinking, since it’s senior year and all, and since we’ll never get these experiences again…” Flick inhaled a deep breath. “That... maybe… weshouldgotothepeprallynextweekend.” The words came out in a blast of strawberry scented breath.
“Hold up a minute. You want to go to that thing? We never go.” We hated those things. Not to mention the fact it was an entire night dedicated to the football team in all their asshole-glory.
“I know, I know.” She hung her head in shame. “It’s just I made this stupid list.”
“List?” That got my attention. “What list?”
Flick slid her purse onto the table and plucked out a small folded sheet of paper, hesitating. “It’s stupid…” Her fingers clutched it like it was the Holy Grail. But now I was intrigued.
“Give it to me.” I snatched it out of her fingers and unfolded it, smoothing the paper out on the table. “Number one, take up a new hobby.” My eyes lifted to hers. “So that’s why you signed up for book club?”
“I like reading.” Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug as she stirred the straw around her glass. “Now I get to do it with sixteen other people.”
“Okay number two, cut class. But we—”
“Without having a valid excuse.” Flick gave me a pointed look. “Sneaking off to buy chocolate and tampons because you got your period does not count.”
I stuck my tongue out at her. “Moving on. Number three, attend a pep rally. Oh, I know, we could paint our nails Raider blue and make banners too,” I smirked, half-expecting her to laugh along with me. But she didn’t.
Snatching the list back, Flick scowled at me. “You don’t have to be such a bitch about it.” Her expression faltered, and guilt coiled around my heart.
“I’m sorry…” I gave her a half-smile. “That was a shitty thing to say.”
“Yeah, it was. I might not enjoy school spirit as much as everyone else, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to experience everything just once, Hails. This is senior year. Our last year before we go off to college and…”
“You’re scared?” I saw it now, the cloudiness in her eyes, how strange she’d been acting all week.
“I’m not scared,” she let out a heavy sigh. “I’m just… look.” Flick folded her arms on the table and leaned forward. “We can’t all be like you, Hails. You’re so hardened. Nothing anyone says or does affects you. Most kids our age hide behind a mask, pretending to be strong and untouchable, but not you. You don’t have to pretend because it’s just how you are.”
“I’m not… hardened.”
Was I?
And if I was it was only because my circumstances had made me that way.
“Do you know how many guys from school asked me out last year?” Flick asked, and I frowned, wondering what the hell that had to do with anything. “None, Hails. Not a single one.”
“So? That’s their loss, Flick. You’d be a catch—”
She shook her head, sadness washing over her. “You don’t get it.” Her walls slammed up and I hated it. We didn’t fight, ever. So I didn’t understand what was happening right now. “It doesn’t matter… forget I said anything.”
“No, wait.” I laid my hand on hers. “Tell me. I’m your best friend, I want to know.” I thought I did know everything about her, but obviously I was wrong.
Screwing her eyes tight, Flick sucked in a shaky breath. When she opened them again, fixing her soft green irises on me, my stomach sank, and I knew I wasn’t going to like whatever she was about to say.
“It’s you,” she said flatly.
“Me?” I choked out, feeling like she’d ripped the rug out from under me, my stomach plummeting into my toes.
“Yes… no.” She grimaced. “That came out wrong.”
Me?
I was the reason guys didn’t ask her out? That made no sense because they didn’t ask me either. And it had never mattered before. We hung out with guys all the time at The Alley.