vanish. It was just me and him, as close to perfect as I could imagine the world being.
But a loud blast from a tuba shook me from my blissful dream, and I pulled back, completely unembarrassed for the first time about being caught kissing Brett. Maybe I was moving along with this whole relationship thing better than I initially thought.I whispered the same words of support Richard’s grandmother had given on Monday. “Kick some ass.”
He laughed before walking back to his teammates.
By the time I’d reached the spot Richard had managed to carve out for me in the stands, Brett had his game face on. I’d watched him play enough by now to recognize it just before he fastened his helmet. Everything else faded away when he was on thefield. He didn’t care about me or the throngs of reporters or the records he could demolish. It was all about winning the game, and he’d ignore everything else until the clock ran out in the fourth quarter.
Once the game got under way, I realized why Brett had spent so much time reviewing film on Skylake. They were good. Probably the best team we’d played all year. And given that they were literallya few miles down the road from our school only added to the intensity of the grudge match. And after a few plays, it also became clear that they’d been preparing for us as much as we had them.
Toward the end of the second quarter, the almost unthinkable happened. Brett was intercepted. He’d thrown the ball toward Sanchez in a route I’d seen them run dozens of times before. Unfortunately, so hadthe Skylake defense. One of their players jumped in front of Sanchez, ripped the ball out of the air, and ran it back for a touchdown. By the time halftime rolled around, we were down by ten points, and the enthusiasm on our side of the field had deflated like a leaky balloon.
Brett walked off the field with his team, his face a mask of fierce determination. I didn’t know what was going to besaid in the locker room, but I knew Brett was the kind of leader who would do his best to rally his teammates and keep them focused on the game.
“Ugh,” Richard grumbled. “This sucks.”
“Brett can do it.” It came out sounding like some kind of mantra, but if I believed in anyone on the team, it was him. “He’ll come up with some sort of plan.”
“At least we get the ball back to start the secondhalf.” Richard stood and jerked his thumb toward the concessions stand. “I’m going to grab a hot chocolate. Want one, too?”
“Sounds great.” I’d welcome anything to chase away the worried chills that trembled along my spine.
There was so much riding on this game, on Brett. If Eastline lost, would the student body use me as the scapegoat for the loss? After all, he’d been nearly perfect untilthis week—the week I officially became his girlfriend.
Worse, would it jeopardize his chances of getting a football scholarship to the college of his choice? Would he blame me, too?
The fear churned in my stomach until Richard returned and handed me a hot chocolate. “You okay?”
“Just worried about what would happen if we lose.”
“You’re worrying over nothing because we aren’t going to lose.”
I pointed to the deficit on the scoreboard. “What about that?”
“It’s halftime.” He blew on his hot drink before taking a sip. “Relax and let Brett do what he does best—win games.”
I wished I shared Richard’s confidence, but when the team came back onto the field, their pep had returned. They bounced around and high-fived each other as though the scores were reversed and they were in the lead.Whatever had been said in the locker room had worked, and they marched down to the end zone on the first drive in five quick plays, reducing the deficit to just three points.
Skylake answered with a touchdown of their own, and the next twenty-five minutes nearly gave me an ulcer. Each drive mirrored the one before it, and the score fluctuated between three and ten points, but
But a loud blast from a tuba shook me from my blissful dream, and I pulled back, completely unembarrassed for the first time about being caught kissing Brett. Maybe I was moving along with this whole relationship thing better than I initially thought.I whispered the same words of support Richard’s grandmother had given on Monday. “Kick some ass.”
He laughed before walking back to his teammates.
By the time I’d reached the spot Richard had managed to carve out for me in the stands, Brett had his game face on. I’d watched him play enough by now to recognize it just before he fastened his helmet. Everything else faded away when he was on thefield. He didn’t care about me or the throngs of reporters or the records he could demolish. It was all about winning the game, and he’d ignore everything else until the clock ran out in the fourth quarter.
Once the game got under way, I realized why Brett had spent so much time reviewing film on Skylake. They were good. Probably the best team we’d played all year. And given that they were literallya few miles down the road from our school only added to the intensity of the grudge match. And after a few plays, it also became clear that they’d been preparing for us as much as we had them.
Toward the end of the second quarter, the almost unthinkable happened. Brett was intercepted. He’d thrown the ball toward Sanchez in a route I’d seen them run dozens of times before. Unfortunately, so hadthe Skylake defense. One of their players jumped in front of Sanchez, ripped the ball out of the air, and ran it back for a touchdown. By the time halftime rolled around, we were down by ten points, and the enthusiasm on our side of the field had deflated like a leaky balloon.
Brett walked off the field with his team, his face a mask of fierce determination. I didn’t know what was going to besaid in the locker room, but I knew Brett was the kind of leader who would do his best to rally his teammates and keep them focused on the game.
“Ugh,” Richard grumbled. “This sucks.”
“Brett can do it.” It came out sounding like some kind of mantra, but if I believed in anyone on the team, it was him. “He’ll come up with some sort of plan.”
“At least we get the ball back to start the secondhalf.” Richard stood and jerked his thumb toward the concessions stand. “I’m going to grab a hot chocolate. Want one, too?”
“Sounds great.” I’d welcome anything to chase away the worried chills that trembled along my spine.
There was so much riding on this game, on Brett. If Eastline lost, would the student body use me as the scapegoat for the loss? After all, he’d been nearly perfect untilthis week—the week I officially became his girlfriend.
Worse, would it jeopardize his chances of getting a football scholarship to the college of his choice? Would he blame me, too?
The fear churned in my stomach until Richard returned and handed me a hot chocolate. “You okay?”
“Just worried about what would happen if we lose.”
“You’re worrying over nothing because we aren’t going to lose.”
I pointed to the deficit on the scoreboard. “What about that?”
“It’s halftime.” He blew on his hot drink before taking a sip. “Relax and let Brett do what he does best—win games.”
I wished I shared Richard’s confidence, but when the team came back onto the field, their pep had returned. They bounced around and high-fived each other as though the scores were reversed and they were in the lead.Whatever had been said in the locker room had worked, and they marched down to the end zone on the first drive in five quick plays, reducing the deficit to just three points.
Skylake answered with a touchdown of their own, and the next twenty-five minutes nearly gave me an ulcer. Each drive mirrored the one before it, and the score fluctuated between three and ten points, but
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