My phone buzzes and my heart skips. It’s Masters.
Not getting out today. Apparently there’s bad weather coming in and we’re not flying.
No, just Jack. I try not to be disappointed at his words.
“I guess not.” I show Riley the text message.
Sweet catch in the third. And nice YAC stats. I type back.
“What’s YAC?” Riley asks peering over my shoulder.
“Yards after catch. The number of yards that a player gets after he catches the ball.”
Just in the third? I was killer all day! JK. Not gonna lie. It felt great. This will be a good year.
Jack and I exchange a few more texts and then I tuck the phone away. I can almost taste his happiness. Even if they did come home and had some raging party, I wouldn’t go, because I can’t trust myself around Masters.
“Hey, you okay? Is Jack okay?”
Riley touches my shoulder. I look down at her concerned face and the urge to confide in her nearly overwhelms me. I don’t tell her the whole truth but the burden of it is weighing me down. “Jack is on the bubble academically. He has problems with some of his classes and it brings his grades down. He’ll never win awards, but he’s not dumb.”
“And?
“And Masters apparently has to check up on him.”
She nibbles on her lip. “Why don’t you tell him that you’ll check up on Jack? That way Knox gets taken out of the loop.”
I stare at her.
“What?” She rubs her forehead. “Do I have ice cream on my face?”
“No. That’s a genius idea, and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it.”
“See?” she nudges me with her shoulder. “This is why it’s okay to share things. Two are better than one.”
The tension that set in on Monday eases. Maybe this is the way for me to have it all—secure Jack’s eligibility and give Masters a chance. So I take a deep breath and text him.
Great game. You guys played fantastic.
There is no response.
I only have myself to blame.
18 Knox
Post Game: Warriors 1-0
My phone is dead. Given how crappy the day has been going, I’m unsurprised. Game one is in the books with eleven to go. If we play like we did today in any of those upcoming games, we can kiss our national title hopes goodbye.
“You got a charge?” I nudge Matty. I don’t think I’ve gotten a text from Ellie, but that doesn’t stop me from obsessively checking my phone.
“No. Sorry, man. Mine’s on life support too.” He shows me his phone face. The battery indicator is red. “I’m working on a local meet up, and if my phone dies before I can get all the details locked down, I’ll be pissed.” He flips to Instagram where some busty brunette has posted a thousand selfies. “Like her?”
I shrug. She’s pretty, but she also looks like everyone else Matty has screwed in the last twelve months.
“How about her?” With a flick of his fingers, he brings up another profile.
“They look the same to me.” Lots of long hair, big boobs and tiny waists. They look kind of breakable. One thing I like about Ellie is that she’s solid. I don’t have to worry about holding back with her.
That is, when I get her. I haven’t heard from her since she gave me the book back. My guess is that she’s offended I’m keeping track of Jack. It’s not like I’m reading his answers or pre-grading his papers. Who’s got time for that shit? I’ve got my own classes and don’t need to add that burden.
But maybe she thought I insulted Jack, called him dumb. He’s obviously not. Our playbook is complicated and he’s had zero problems catching on. She’s mad about something. When my parents argue, my dad says that you have to give mom time to cool off.
So that’s what I’m doing. I figure it’s worked for my dad for nearly twenty-five years. Why not me?
The bus stops in front of the hotel, but before we get off, Coach stands at the front.
“No curfew tonight, but you guys screw this up and you’ll be required to be in your beds every night at seven for four months,” Coach threatens. “The team bus leaves for the airport at four in the morning. Anyone not on the bus will be suspended for the next game.”
Everyone promises to be angels as we file out and then mill around in the lobby while Stella gets everyone’s room keys.
“We’re meeting some locals at the bar next door.” Hammer jerks his head toward the lobby door.
I look at my dead phone.
“I’ll hang out for a bit,” I concede. It’s good for the team, I figure.
When Hammer raises his fist and yells, “Masters is in,” I know it’s the right call. Stella hands out the room keys but before I can head up, Coach grabs me. “Watch out for your guys.”
“I got it.” I nod.
Upstairs, I plug in my phone and exchange the suit for a gray workout T-shirt, jeans, and a pair of flips. Matty and Hammer have their Warriors T-shirt on. I make them change. No sense in advertising our team allegiance given that we spanked the hometown team.
While they switch out their shirts, I call Ty on Hammer’s phone since he’s the only one who had the good sense to charge it before the game.
“Good game, man,” he says upon answering.
“Thanks.” I throw myself on the bed. Ty had a game on Thursday night that they won. “We’re stuck here because there’s some bad weather in Chicago.”
He groans. “Fuck, that sucks.” No one wants to spend more nights away from home than you have to. It messes with your schedule. But teams are cautious about flying in bad weather given that if the whole charter goes down, you’ve lost the entire program. “You going out?”
“Yeah, with Matty and Hammer.” I rub a hand over my hair—the short cut ensures that it doesn’t totally look like ass since I don’t like to even brush it. Matty, on the other hand, uses more product than some girls. In fact, some of the girls he’s slept with give him tips on how to take care of his long hair.
“What’s going on? You sound uneasy. Was it the first quarter? You guys just shook out the dust of the off season.”
Ty’s attempt at encouragement hits off the mark. I’m not uneasy. I’m tense. The post-game high has worn off, but I’m still edgy because I can’t stop thinking about Ellie.
Tonight the guys will come back with out of town strangers, and given the location of our hotel, it won’t be college coeds either. Matty’s told me more than once he likes his women older. They know what they want and aren’t afraid to vocalize it.
“It’s the girl.” He sounds concerned.
“Yeah, the girl.”
“What happened?”
“I think I offended her.” I explain the Jack situation. “So I thought I’d give her some time to cool off, like Dad does.”
“You sure she’s the one?” he asks cautiously.
“Fuck, man, I’m not sure about anything right now. We played like shit in the first quarter. Against a better team, we might have been sunk. We can barely score and if our defense isn’t playing lights out then our chances of a title are gone.” I take a couple calming breaths. “And I’m definitely not sure about her.”
Then I think of the sharp set of her chin every time she says something that she thinks I’ll disagree with. The sparkle in her eyes when she talks about football—the sport she says is just okay. Right, and I’m a ballerina. The way her brother and her get along. They’re a unit like Ty and I are a unit. I’m not uncertain anymore.
I’ve always known what I want. From the minute I could walk, I wanted to play ball. From the moment I realized I could have dreams and make those dreams a reality, I vowed I’d play on Sundays.