Chapter 8

Casey doesn’t speakto me until Wednesday. To be fair, she didn’t actually speak to me on Wednesday either, but she sent a funny meme to me in a text message after the most disastrous English lesson presented by any substitute teacher, ever, so I figure we’re okay. I don’t mean to keep hurting her feelings, I feel like I’ve been the biggest idiot lately and keep doing things wrong. It’s like our signals just aren’t lining up these days… But it’ll come back together. Because if it doesn’t, what happens then?

Can I see you tonight?

I have practice, but we could eat something after?

Yea sounds good. I love you

Love you too

I make a fist around my phone in my left hand, clapping the right one over my knuckles as I blow out a slow breath. The other night was… Stressful. Casey’s one of my two best friends, and making her feel upset tore me up. But, I think the feeling I have when she’s pushing me to move things farther might be worse… It feels like we’re on different wavelengths lately. When we started dating, things were so easy. And now, they’re just… not.

The rest of the day creeps by, and I play a million conversations in my head as I think about what she might have to say. I imagine that I apologize, next accuse, maybe beg for forgiveness, then demand that she respect my boundaries and draw a line in the sand… But as we head into practice after school, I still feel totally unprepared. Cam keeps looking over at me, like he’s worried about me. I must be doing a pretty poor job of hiding my anxiety, but I just can’t quite seem to do anything differently.

It’s a no-pads practice, light contact only. As much as I would normally try to avoid being tackled, there’s something cathartic when Jeremy Brees jolts into me and slaps my shoulders, indicating a take-down. I shake my shoulders loose, smiling a little when Brees taps my helmet with the flat of his hand, and finish out practice with a little more clarity and focus. When Coach dismisses us, I start jogging a lap around the field. I speed up on my second lap, tapering it back down around the last corner so I’m jogging back to the locker rooms.

The showers are mostly empty by the time I get there, which was the goal. I might feel looser than I have all day, but I’m still not up to the scrutiny of my teammates when they ask what’s eating me tonight. My forehead rests on the wall of the shower as I let the lukewarm spray fall over my back, taking deep breaths. After the water runs cold, I shut off the valve and pat the worst of the water off before I wrap the towel around my waist and head to my locker. It’s no surprise to find Cam sitting on the bench, dressed and waiting for me.

“What kind of freak,” he asks, eyes closed peacefully as he leans back against the locker. “Runs unassigned laps to clear his head after practice?”

“Me, I guess,” I chuckle, pulling on boxers and jeans and throwing the towel over Cam’s head.

“Weirdo,” Cam smiles, eyes opening now to watch me as I tug on a shirt. “Everything okay? You seem pretty tense.”

“Yeah,” I wince. “Casey texted me today.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Yeah, I think so… She asked if she could ‘see me tonight’,” I do the air quotes with my fingers. “So yeah, I don’t totally know what that means…” I shrug. “I’m sure it’s fine, I just… Still feel weird about the party.”

“That makes sense.”

I frown at him, noting his intentionally neutral statement.

“You’re not gonna tell me what you think?”

“I think you’re a smart guy who can figure out what he thinks for himself without my influence.” He smiles tightly, but when I open my mouth to ask a question he stands and puts his backpack over his shoulder. “Anyway, I’ve gotta head home, just wanted to be sure you had a ride.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll catch a ride with Casey, probably. Thanks.”

“Any time,” Cam slaps his palm against mine before spinning on his heel and heading out to the parking lot.

I follow behind, pulling out my phone to text Casey, but before I can send it I step out of the athletic building and see her leaning against her Jeep in the spot closest to the door. She smiles and waves me over, and I try to return it convincingly as I come closer. I’m nearly to her side when she launches herself at me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders in a tight hug. My arms reflexively tighten around her waist, hugging her back, and I relax slightly at the sign that we aren’t going to have a problem.

“Hey,” I greet her lamely.

“Hi,” she pulls back, smiling up at me. Her eyes look nervous, like she hadn’t been sure what I was thinking about the other night. Interesting… “So, what do you want for dinner?”

“I don’t know,” I shrug as I open the car door, waiting until she rounds the car and hops in the driver’s seat before continuing. “Burgers sound okay?”

“Sure,” she turns to look over her shoulder before she pulls out of the space and makes her way to the edge of the school parking lot. “How was practice?”

“It was good,” I flex my arms slightly. “Midweek practice is no-pads, so that’s kinda nice. Not as hot, and less risk of getting taken down by a sweaty guy.”

“I don’t know,” she grins to herself. “Doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

I tense as the innuendo in her statement rolls over me, and next to me Casey blushes and bites her lip. We sit in silence for a minute as she drives down the highway to the restaurant. She pulls it into park, bouncing back into her seat and letting a little puff of air pass through her teeth, and I take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, Case. I didn’t mean to upset you at the party.”

“It’s okay,” she rubs a hand on her knee. “I’m sorry, too.” She seems to be avoiding looking at me. “I shouldn’t have pushed, when you said you weren’t comfortable. That wasn’t cool.”

“No,” I agree easily. “It wasn’t. Thanks, for apologizing…”

Casey nods, and I get out of the car. I walk around to her side, catching her door as it swings open and offer her a hand to step down to street level. I slip my hands into my pockets as we walk up to the front door of the Burger Shack. She waits to the side of the door for me to open it for her, then we both step onto the brown tile floor.

The Burger Shack is a staple in Crystal Falls. I swear to you that Ms. Dawn has been standing behind that cash register, wearing a denim vest over a tee shirt and chewing a wad of pink gum for my entire life. Her blue eyeshadow crinkles a little more around her eyes these days, but that’s about all that has changed. We approach the red laminate counter where the register sits, glancing up at the black letters of the menu board as if we haven’t had our order memorized for half of our lives.

“Hi Ms. Dawn,” I smile, leaning against the counter.

“Hey there sugar,” she blows a bubble, popping it as she taps her pencil against the order pad in her hand. “Where’s your sidekick?”

“Oh,” a flush crawls up my neck, and I feel Casey’s eyes on me. “Just me and Casey today. You know, out for dinner with my girlfriend.” I laugh uneasily.

“That’s nice,” she slides her eyes between us, smile firmly in place. “Whatcha havin’ today?”

We give her our orders and I hastily pull out my wallet, paying for our meal with my dwindling funds. I’m going to have to ask Dad if there’s any jobs I can help with on the site this weekend, my fun money is getting alarmingly low. After I slip the wallet back into my pocket, I follow Casey to a table by the window, Ms. Dawn’s promise to have our food right out following behind us.

It’s quiet at the table, only the sounds of the grease popping in the fryer and the hum of the air conditioning vent overhead as it tries to keep up, breaking the silence between us. A few minutes later Ms. Dawn appears, dropping off boats of fries and a glass ketchup bottle before sweeping back into the kitchen. We smile at each other over the checkered bowls, and the uneasy look seems to seep out of her eyes.

“So,” she bit her lip and grabs a fry from the pile. “Just a couple of days before your first official varsity game on the road.”

“Yep,” I shake the ketchup bottle, screwing off the top and angling it just right over the corner of the boat so it starts to slowly slide out.

“Are you nervous?”

“Not really, no more than usual.”

“You usually get nervous?” She frowns, settling her hands on the table in front of her and stopping to look at me. “Why?”

“Uh, Case, I’m not exactly built like your standard football player.”

“You’re pretty muscular,” she argues.

“I am,” I agree with a shrug. “But that is a lot of force coming at you, as fast as they can. It’s a little intimidating.”

“I guess I can understand that,” she nods, turning to smile at Ms. Dawn as she brings our burgers and shakes.

For the most part, the anxiety that has been gnawing at my stomach all day is gone. So I can’t understand, as I watch Casey smile animatedly and talk to the woman, why I don’t seem to feel much better at all.

Away games feeldifferent than home games. I stretch my arms over my head as I walk back to position to get set on the thirty-yard line, taking the opportunity to look at the stands on either side. The lights glare brightly, and though I can see our school colors scattered on one side the hulking rise of the home stands is intimidating, to say the least. As it stands this game could go either way and, if I’m honest, I’m not sure I want to see this crowd’s reaction to a loss. Jeers and harassing calls have swallowed us whole since we stepped off the bus, and I think I heard some of these giants on the field growl a few times.

Seriously, is everyone here on steroids or something?I glance at number 54 diagonal from me. That guy had to have failed at least two grades to be here…

I suck in a breath and pull my focus back to the front as the whistle blows, and we start our next play. The ball is snapped and I work to find the pocket, slipping through opposing players just in time to lock eyes with Samson, the C on his shoulder blazing as he winds the ball back on a solid throw. He spirals it to me, and I catch it with a lunge toward the end zone. I take two steps, then I hear the crowd roar. Unease falls over me and the back of my neck begins to prickle. I take a wide step just as I see the green of a jersey enter my field of vision. Oh, f-

The air rushes from my lungs and my ribs rearrange themselves as number 54 swings his arm around me and brings me to the ground. His weight disappears and I roll to my back, the bright lights burst like stars above me as I remember how to breathe. In an instant Cam is there, offering me his arm with a stoic face. I reach up and grasp his elbow firmly, accepting his help with a wince. He holds my arm as he looks at me hard, and only when I nod to let him know I’m okay does he let go and tap my helmet firmly with the flat of his hand, grinning when I stumble.

Jerk.

“Try not to die out there, huh?” He winks, turning to jog into position.

I fall into a huddle of backslaps and pats as my teammates jog past me, joining in good-naturedly as we ready ourselves for the next start. Getting tackled is easily the worst part of football, and I don’t think I’ll ever hate it less. It isn’t that I’m afraid of getting really hurt, like some of my former teammates on JV… But masochism is definitely not my thing, and I’ve learned enough in science to know that when a 200-pound object in motion hurtles into me, my pads are not enough to make it feel like a hug.

They’re only four points up, and we are so close to the end zone that I can hear the wind whistling through the holes in the net. It’s the fourth down, and the tension is tangible as we all breathe and set into position: this is the last play of our first official game of the season. Whether we win or lose, it comes down to the next play.

Time slows as the whistle blows, adrenaline making me hyper-focus on everything going on around me on the field. I rush to my position, but it’s no good. I’m completely obstructed. Samson sees it too, tucking the ball as he pushes forward toward the yellow post. Suddenly, a miracle happens. The sea of green around me shifts, their focus on stopping the play and running out the clock on their win. They’re broad, but I’m tall, and as I pull away and back my way to the goal, a window opens. Samson, experienced quarterback that he is, sees it too. Without a moment’s hesitation, he throws it high over the heads of the charging defenders, and straight into my arms as I jump for it and hit the ground running.

Cries surround us from both sets of bleachers as I scramble across the field, lunging as far and as fast as I can towards the endzone to outrun the less-than-jolly green giants I can hear cursing behind me. They’re fast, but I’m faster. This is my game now. I feel a hand on my shoulder, but he’s caught up too late. With a twist, I spin out of his reach and into the endzone. Our band strikes up the fight song as cries of victory and defeat surround me. I just won us the game.

A grin slowly spreads across my face, and before I can turn to face the field I’m nearly knocked to the ground by cheering teammates. Hands smack my helmet, my butt, and my chest, I’m knocked in every direction as we laugh and celebrate. This might hurt tomorrow, but in this moment I feel like a hero. We make our way across the field, clapping hands with the other team, and I can’t shake my smile. As we circle back to our coach on the sidelines, Samson comes up behind me and smacks my butt before nodding to me with a grin.

“Attaboy, Graves. Good game.”

“Yeah, hey!” I pray I’m not blushing as heat fills my entire body. “Thanks, you too!”

I hear an amused snort from behind me as Cam catches up.

“You need a minute?” He’s grinning so wide you’d think he scored the game-winning goal. “You’ve got a little drool there,” he moves as if to wipe my chin and I laugh as I shove him off.

“Whatever, you just keep projecting…” I know I’m definitely blushing now.

“Hey, that was a really good play there.” He nudges his shoulder pads against mine, grinning wider when I wince as my ribs remind me of the hit I’d taken. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Cam.” I tuck my lip in to keep from showing all of my teeth as we come in toward Coach for his post-game talk.

After he’s done with us we head to the locker rooms, showering quickly and changing before being herded onto the bus. I take a seat next to Camden, leaning my head back against the seat as he unwinds the earbuds from his pocket. He nudges my side with his elbow as he offers me one, grinning as I suck in a breath.

“Little sore there, touchdown?”

“Yeah, I got hit by a moving train…”

“Wow,” he laughs loudly, drawing a few amused looks from our teammates. “You poor baby… here, you can pick the music.”

”I’m not being dramatic, I’m bruised!”

Cam just grins as I take his phone with a smile, rolling my eyes as I browse his playlists. My thumb hovers over one labeled ‘Our Songs’ as a knot I can’t explain works its way up my throat. I glance at him from the corner of my eye, then look back at the screen. What could that mean, our songs? Who is ‘our’? Could Camden have a secret girlfriend? Why would he hide that from me? And why would that thought leave me feeling so… anxious? Cam glances over, checking to see what”s taking so long, and a soft smile comes to his lips.

“That’s a good one.” His voice is warm, his eyes relaxed in a way I don’t see him often around other people.

“Yeah?” He nods. “Okay.”

I push play and relax, looking out the window as a vaguely familiar song begins to play. I try to measure my breathing, to ease the knot in my stomach, but I’m having difficulty shaking it. After a few seemingly random songs, I pull the list up on the phone again. Tension melts away as I realize what these songs are. My attention shifts to the guy in the seat next to me, eyes closed with a smile on his face as he leans his head back and listens to a collection of the songs he’s set as his own ringtone on my phone.

Wow, I can’t help but smile. I wonder how long he’s been working on this? The whole time?

I try to think back to when our little game started, but I honestly couldn’t even say. It feels like something we’ve always done, he thinks of a song that reminds him of something we did or said and he puts it on my phone. Every time he calls I think of it, and it makes me smile… but it’s never occurred to me he kept a list. It should have, honestly…

I jump as my phone vibrates in my pocket, pulling it out to see a text from Casey.

That was such a great game! I tried to catch you before you got on the bus, but I guess I missed you ?? I was thinking we should do something this weekend… the fair is in town, would you want to go?

Yeah! Sounds great. I’ve gotta work on a project tomorrow, but maybe Sunday?

Yes! That would be perfect ????

I slip my phone back into my pocket and bump Cam’s knee.

“Hey, Casey just reminded me the fair is in town this weekend! We should go, Case wants to and I’m sure Beth would love it!”

“Yeah!” He grins. “That sounds fun! Think they’ll have those crazy funhouse mirror things again?”

“Uh, obviously!” I grin. “That’s the best part. Win me a goldfish?” I bat my eyes dramatically.

“Yeah, right,” Cam scoffs. “Who in their right mind would trust you with something living?”

“Excuse me, I am very responsible.”

“Elliot, I have to come over every few weeks to water your plants because you forget.”

“Well,” I purse my lips. “That’s not fair, plants are easy to forget!” He gives me a look. “Fine,” I mutter. “No goldfish… but I expect a corn dog.”

“Yes, dear…” he sighs as if put-upon as he crosses his arms and closes his eyes to rest on the drive home.

I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face as I watch the city pass by through the window, set to the songs of our friendship.