“But I do.”
42. game face.
“Don’t let her out of your sight,” Mom says as we pull up to school.
“I promise,” I say.
“I mean it. You have to hold her hand every minute.”
Jessica reaches over from the backseat and makes a big show of clenching my hand.
“Oh, that’s so sweet,” Mom says. “I haven’t seen you two hold hands like that since you were little kids.”
“Don’t get sentimental,” I say. “We’re on a tight schedule.”
“Yes, sir,” Mom says.
Jessica climbs out of the car. “Love you, Mommy,” she says, and bats her eyelashes.
Academy Award material. Jessica might end up being a model after all.
“I wish I was coming with you,” Mom says. “I really love the theater. But I have to do this cocktail party.”
“Next time,” I say.
We both wave and smile as Mom pulls away. As soon as the car turns the corner, Jessica lets go of my hand.
“This is awesome,” she says.
A black 4Runner pulls into the rear of the parking lot. I point it out to Jessica.
“You see that?” I say. “That’s O. Douglas’s truck.”
“No way!” she says. “Will you introduce me?”
“Promise to behave yourself?”
“I won’t tell him you sleep in pajamas, if that’s what you mean.”
We wait while O. parks. I figure I’ll make a big show of introducing Jessica. Between that and the game, she’ll be in my debt forever. I’ll never have to watch another episode of Gossip Girl.
O. gets out of his truck and stretches. I’m just about to call his name when the passenger door opens…
…and April gets out.
“Is that his girlfriend?” Jessica says.
44. we’re on the same team.
Our team jogs onto the field, and the crowd goes crazy. That’s how it is when you’re on a team. You don’t have to do anything except show up in a uniform, and people react to you. It’s a far stretch from Model UN.
Coach keeps me off the field for the kickoff because I can’t run very fast. I sneak over towards the cheerleaders and tap Lisa Jacobs on the shoulder.
“That’s my kid sister,” I say, and I point to Jessica. “Would you keep an eye on her?”
“No problem,” Lisa says.
Sometimes I forget that Lisa is nice. I automatically want to hate her because she’s so pretty. It’s not really fair of me.
Lisa waves to Jessica, and Jessica’s face lights up. Now Jessica knows a cheerleader. I’m going to own the TiVo for the rest of my life.
“Good luck,” April says as I walk back towards the team. I ignore her. If I open my mouth right now, I don’t know what’s going to come out.
Coach puts me in when we take our first possession. I should be excited, but everything feels bad right now. I keep looking over at April to see if she’s looking at O. I look at O. to see if he’s looking at April. It’s like watching a tennis match, and it makes my neck hurt.
When O. puts his hands on my back, I flinch. I’m so angry, I don’t even want him to touch me.
“Easy,” he says, and pats my back. He must think I’m nervous.
“Haaaa-eeee!” O. screams, and I snap the ball back a second too late. I feel it crunch against his fingers. He adjusts immediately and snatches it up. He completes a pass to Rodriguez for a quick five yards.
“We’re off to a good start,” he tells everyone in the huddle.
We set for the next play. This time I snap too far back and miss his hands altogether. He has to scurry after the ball, grabbing it off the ground and converting it into a pass before getting crunched by a couple of linemen.
When we get into the huddle this time, O. is pissed.
“Get your head in the game!” he says.
“It’s jitters,” Cheesy says. He pats my shoulder like he’s burping a baby. “He’ll settle down.”
But I don’t settle. I keep sneaking looks at April when I should be thinking about football. I try to hear the music in my head again. “True Colors.” But it’s not there. Only static.
I keep telling myself that it shouldn’t bother me. April got out of O.’s truck. So what? It’s not like they kissed or anything. But as the game goes on, I feel more and more upset.
We’re at fourth and ten when the linebacker from Worcester hits me at an angle, then fakes to his left and scoots past me. He knocks down O. before he can get off the pass. The ball goes spinning across the field, ending up between the legs of a Worcester player who dives on top of it.
A quarter of the crowd stands up and goes insane. The Worcester fans. They’re less than popular with the home crowd right now. Only slightly less popular than me.
O. stays down for a couple seconds, just long enough that people start to worry. Even I feel a little panic inside. Maybe he’s hurt. Maybe the first game of the season will be his last, and it’s all my fault.
It seems to take forever, but O. finally crawls to his knees and stands up, and the crowd bursts into applause. O. limps off the field slowly. As he passes by, he grabs my collar and yanks me along with him. The coach calls a quick time-out.
“What the hell is going on out there?!” Coach says.
“I need a second with my boy,” O. says.
“Make it fast,” Coach says.
O. pulls me away from everyone. I catch sight of Jessica watching us, fascinated.
“What’s going on?” he says.
“Jitters. Like Cheesy said.”
“Bullshit. We practiced this. We did it a thousand times. Why are you freaking out?”
O. grabs me by the face mask and pulls my head in towards his.
“You gave her a ride,” I say.
“Who?”
“April. I saw her get out of your truck.”
“Big deal,” O. says. “I was being decent.”
“What does Lisa think about that?”
“She’s got her own car,” he says.
“So she doesn’t know.”
“Don’t threaten me, dude.”
“It wasn’t a threat,” I say.
“We’re playing for the same team, remember?” O. says.
“Oh, I remember,” I say. “We have each other’s backs, right? You, me, and Apes.”
Silence.
“Maybe I’ll give Lisa a ride home,” I say. “Just to be decent.”
O. smiles. “Well, if your mom has room in her Volvo…”
“Screw you,” I say.
O. sighs heavily.
“Jesus Christ, Andy, we’re in the middle of a game.” He points to the white line painted on the field. “You cross that line, life stops. That’s how it has to be.”
The ref is blowing the whistle now. The crowd is shouting, anxious for us to get started.
I don’t move.
O. says, “There’s nothing going on between me and April.”
More whistles blow.
“Are you angry at me?” O. says.
“Yeah.”
He knocks hard on the side of my helmet.
“Use it,” he says.
Coach comes charging at us.
“Are you ladies done with your picnic?” he says.
“Ready to play, Coach!” I say.
“We need you on defense,” Coach says to me.
Coach warned me that he might put me in. A defensive tackle hurt his ankle last scrimmage, so we’re short a man.
I jog onto the field while O. heads for the sideline to rest up for our next possession.
O. is right. Everything else has to go away. If I don’t get it together, Dad will never see me win a game. April won’t know how special I am. Jessica will think I’m a loser.
I take the line.
I shift my strategy from offense to defense. It’s like I’m in an alternate universe. Instead of protecting my quarterback, I’m supposed to destroy the other team’s.