Second Down - Chapter 34

My headache and most of the soreness was gone by Monday morning, but Mr. Lassiter still had me come by first thing, even before I started training with Coach Greer, so he could check me out again.

He said I looked good and there was no sign of any lasting damage and cleared me back to practicing, although I found out that afternoon that he told Coach Holloway he didn’t want me getting hit during practice this week.

We only had one more game of the season coming up on Saturday, although we had the first week of playoffs starting next week. If they got to the championships, they’d go right to the last day of school for the semester, although competition this year was tough for them.

Although we didn’t normally do any hitting at practice, Coach I guess was taking it extra careful, because he sat me to watch film all through Monday’s practice and Tuesday I was only allowed to throw. I couldn’t even take part in the scrimmage.

Andre had it a lot worse. Coach was definitely punishing him for what happened on Saturday, critiquing every little thing he was doing wrong and generally being all over him. Part of me wanted to tell the coach to take it easy on him, since mistakes happen, but there was a big difference in giving the team a talking to and saying something to the coach.

Andre was at least holding up to it well, without complaining or pouting. I think he’d kind of wanted something like this, as maybe a form of penance. He’d felt really bad about it and had tried to apologize every time he saw me at school the day before.

He wasn’t the only one going through it.

After practice, Melanie was waiting by the gate that led out toward the fieldhouse. She didn’t meet me every time after practice but if the timing worked out, between when they finished and her ride was ready to go, she came by to see me.

It was a great way to end my school day for sure.

She broke into a smile when she saw me, bouncing forward to wrap me in a hug before giving me a quick kiss. The PDA between us had started ramping up after homecoming. We hadn’t talked about us being official or anything, but I think most people had assumed we were together, and we’d just kind of gone with it.

Even in my dream life, the ‘what are we’ conversation had always been awkward, so if she was willing to just roll with it, so was I.

“Want to walk me home?” she asked.

I paused, surprised. “Don’t you usually get a ride with Emily?”

“Changed it up today.” She shrugged, turning and walking down the sidewalk toward the fieldhouse. “Coming?”

I just shook my head and jogged to catch up. That was the first hint that something was wrong. Melanie liked routine and she liked riding with a senior every day. I guess it made her feel like she wasn’t just the average freshman.

I got my stuff from the fieldhouse and we started the short walk to her house. It meant a little longer walk for me, but if she wanted me to go with her, then I would.

The more we walked, the more clear it was that something was off. Melanie was usually a chatterbox, filling any silence with stories about whatever drama that was happening, and there was always drama, or just … whatever. She abhorred silence.

So the fact that she was quiet was telling.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” I asked after we’d gone a block without speaking.

“Nothing.”

“Come on. You wanted to walk cause something’s bothering you and you want to talk about it. So hit me with it, instead of making me drag it out of you.”

She thought about that for a second and said, “Brandy’s been running her mouth.”

“About what?”

“About me trying out for varsity. She’s telling everyone I’m not good enough and I started dating you so they’d consider me. That I’m not good enough to make it on my own.”

I frowned. “Why would dating me matter for varsity cheerleading?”

“Don’t be stupid, Blake.” She stopped walking, turning to face me with her hands on her hips. “Everyone’s talking about how you turned JV around. The way you played against Monterey? People notice that stuff.”

“I mean, I’m still just on JV…”

“You’ll be varsity next year,” she cut in. “Everyone knows it. And you’ll probably start your junior and senior year. Kenneth only got one year as a starter since he was backup last year, and Ben will only have next year before he graduates. You’ll be the first quarterback to start two years in a row in forever.”

“That’s a lot of assumptions.”

“It’s not assumptions, it’s obvious. They may not say it to your face, but everyone’s talking about how you won the Monterey game all by yourself, and how you almost brought us back to win against Midland until Andre slipped. Why do you think Jorden’s so pissed? He knows he’s going to have to stay on JV and you’re going to sail right past him.” She started walking again, slower this time. “I got lucky, you know? Landing you right before you broke big.”

I know she was complimenting me, but the words hit me wrong. For a second, I remembered what Elijah said about Melanie using me to get closer to varsity.

But I only thought about it for a second. Looking at her face, the genuine worry in her expression and how she looked at me when she said she got lucky, I knew that wasn’t true. It was just my own insecurities playing me.

“No,” I said, reaching for her hand. “I think I got lucky.”

It had been the right thing to say, and it got me a little smile, but she wasn’t done with her venting.

“It’s just bullshit. She cornered Tammy after practice today, going on about how I’m not ready, how putting me on varsity would be a mistake.”

“They’ve seen you practice. She has to know that isn’t true.”

“Does she? We mostly practice separate from them, and other than Hanna and Emily, everyone else is backing Brandy. She’s been telling people I’m too busy cause I have to work on a hardship permit and how it would look to have someone like me on the team.”

“What does she mean like you?”

“White trash. I heard she was telling people her daddy gives her an allowance bigger than my paychecks. Like it’s somehow shameful that I had to work because we needed the money. Like that makes me trash or something. She’s also telling everyone that Donna had an abortion her freshman year, and disappeared the last few months of school because of it.”

“How would she know anything about your sister? You two have a huge age gap.”

“Her gold-digging mom. That’s why she has money, she married Brandy’s dad who was like, twenty years older than her and rich. Her mom went to school with Donna, they were on cheerleading together in middle school. And now she’s telling everyone how Donna gained all this weight freshman year and then vanished, and when she came back that summer she was skinny again.”

I’d only met Brandy’s parents a couple of times. They’d always been busy any time I went to her house. At the time, I’d thought it kind of cool how much free rein she’d been given.

“Melanie…”

“It’s not true. None of it’s true.”

“Brandy’s always been like this,” I said. “She’ll step on anyone to get ahead. What if I talked to some of the varsity guys, Kenneth especially. His opinion carries a lot of weight with both teams.”

“No.” Melanie said instantly. “Absolutely not.”

“But…”

“I’m not having my boyfriend fight my battles for me. They already think I’m dating you to get ahead. If you then go out and defend me, it’ll only get worse.”

“That’s not what I…”

“I know and I appreciate it, I do. But I need to handle this myself.”

“Okay, but if it gets worse, let me try and help,” I said.

She just smiled and squeezed my hand. This was all well outside of my area. Even in my dream life, girl politics was nothing I’d really understood.

But, I had noticed she’d called me her boyfriend.

That was something.

***

We were getting close to Thanksgiving break, with only one full week left to go, and my teachers were so focused on midterms that they put a hold on any more extra work to get me on level until after we got back from break.

I didn’t mind. While I definitely wanted to do everything I could to be on level next year, we still had another full semester to get there and I’d been go, go, go since the second week of school, and I could use a break.

Better yet, all the extra classwork meant I was ready for the tests. I’d do some studying over the weekend and the day before I had to take each of them, but I didn’t need to stress about it.

So I finally had some free time.

I already had what was becoming our regular Friday night date the next night with Melanie and she said she had some stuff to do. Thankfully, Eduardo was free.

The last thing I wanted to do on a night off from school work was to just sit at home.

He hung around at practice, watching us play and sometimes talking to a few of the guys from the lunch table. After practice instead of walking home, we headed down Broadstreet to the bowling alley. It was easily fifteen blocks, almost all the way down to the factory on the western side of town, but it was also the only place with arcade games in it aside from the dinky sit down pacman game at Napoli’s.

Although they only had six cabinets and most of them were several years old, it was as close as our town got to an arcade. They’d also just gotten in Street Fighter at the end of the summer, and I’d been too busy to actually get to play it, so I’d had to listen to Eduardo tell me about it while we worked on his house.

Of course, when I’d suggested we head to the alley so I could finally play it for myself, it didn’t click that Eduardo had been playing it all year, which gave him a big head start.

I figured out my mistake pretty quick, though.

I pushed the buttons on the Street Fighter II cabinet rapidly, desperately trying to counter Eduardo’s Ryu with my Ken, but it was no use. His hadoken caught me mid-jump, and my character crumpled to the ground.

“Yes!” he said, pumping his fist in victory. “Seven straight? You might want to stick to football, cause you suck at this.”

“Yeah, keep talking trash. Game’s rigged,” I muttered, fishing another quarter from my pocket. “Has to be.”

Eduardo laughed. “Sure, that has to be it. Mr. Quarterback big-man-on-campus can’t accept he just sucks.”

I laughed and put in another quarter. I could take the teasing.

“So how are things with Sarah?” I asked, trying to distract him long enough to get some hits in.

It didn’t work and he kept kicking my butt as he answered, his eyes never leaving the screen.

“Things are good. We talk a lot during lunch. And, you know, sometimes between classes.”

“I saw you two holding hands in the hall yesterday.”

Childish, yes, I know, but he was too timid. She was doing everything she could to signal him that she liked him, and he was taking kiddie steps. I know he was shy, but he needed to get over that fear if he didn’t want her to get frustrated and find someone who would show their interest.

“Have you kissed her yet?” I prodded when he didn’t say anything.

The fact that I was able to land several hits when his hand suddenly froze in place said everything I needed to know.

“So that’s a definite no. Man, you really need to make a move. She likes you. I guarantee if you ask her out, she’ll say yes.”

“I just... I want to get comfortable first.”

“Comfortable with what, with her? You just said you guys talk at lunch every day and sometimes between classes. If you want to get more comfortable with her, you’re going to need to take it to the next level.”

“No, I mean just... comfortable in the school. You’ve been around these people your whole life, remember? I’m new here.”

“You were new three months ago, you can’t keep up with that excuse forever. You’ve got friends at school. What else is there to get comfortable about?”

The match ended, with me losing brutally again even with him distracted.

He stepped back from the cabinet and said, “There’s a lot to get comfortable with. It’s just different here. I still feel like an outsider, and probably won’t feel comfortable until that stops happening.”

“Why do you feel like an outsider?”

“Because it’s different. Not at school necessarily, but everywhere else. In Midland, there was a big Hispanic population and my family knew all the other families in our community. That’s not true here. Heck, two weeks ago they held the annual Día de los Muertos celebrations. It’s the first time I’ve missed it since I can remember going. There was nothing like that here.”

“Oh.”

I hadn’t considered all that. For me, Midland seemed about the same as Wheaton. Sure, it was a city and not a little town, but it wasn’t that different. But then the people I talked to there, mostly dad’s coworkers’ families, were the same types of people as here, so of course it would be the same. I stood there awkwardly, not really knowing how to respond.

“Plus, at school all my friends are your friends. I’m just the add-on.”

“Now that’s BS,” I said firmly. “You may have a point with the community outside of school, but in school you’re not an outsider anymore. Yeah, maybe that’s how it started, but that’s changed. I know you hang out with Miguel and Connor and the rest of them sometimes even outside of school and I’ve seen you with other guys in the halls. They like you for you now. And Sarah isn’t holding your hand because you’re friends with me.”

“I guess.”

“No guessing. They’re your friends too.” I pulled out another quarter. “Just remember to still hang out with me sometimes when you and Sarah get serious.”

He gave a self-conscious laugh, and I couldn’t tell if it was because of what I said, or the thought of him and Sarah getting serious.

“Actually,” I continued. “I was talking to my dad the other night. You know, since I spend every Sunday at your house, and your mom keeps feeding me, he thinks you need to come over for dinner. Return the favor.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay...”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to phrase that like it was a question. We’re not taking no for an answer,” I cut him off.

“I don’t know...”

“Come on. Your mom’s probably sick of feeding me every Sunday.”

“She’s definitely not sick of feeding you. She loves how much you go crazy about everything she cooks. I think if she could trade me and Alex in for you, she would.”

“Well then at least come and get to know your new parents after we swap.”

Eduardo laughed and said, “Okay, fine. When?”

“It’ll have to be Sunday night. That okay?”

“Yeah. I have to check with mom, but it should be okay.” Eduardo turned back to the game cabinet. “Now are you ready to lose again, or did you want to try one of the other games?”

“Oh, I’m not done here.” I dropped my quarter in. “I’ve got you figured out this time.”

***

Our final game was on Saturday against Dunbar High School from Fort Worth, and we couldn’t have had a worse day of it. Friday night storm clouds rolled in and it rained like crazy the entire day. All day I thought the game would be called because of rain, since the field would be a mess, but we showed up and suited up, and nothing.

The game was going to happen as scheduled, no matter what the field was like. It was so bad, they even took us and the other team inside the school to warm up, because the field was so muddy and the rain was coming down.

I didn’t know if it was because of the end of the season and they had playoffs starting next week or what, but we were going to play in this mess.

When we jogged out onto the field, there was no banner to rip through and the band was mostly under umbrellas, keeping their instruments dry. Even the cheerleaders were all huddled under ponchos and umbrellas on the running track.

I didn’t blame them. It was a cool sixty degrees but with the rain, it felt freezing. My fingers were already numb by the time we headed out for the coin toss, which set the tone for the night when the ref dropped it and it disappeared into the mud. Eventually, they found it and Dunbar won, choosing to receive.

“This is gonna be a nightmare,” Mickey said as we walked back to the sidelines.

“No kidding.”

Coach Holloway gathered us around before kickoff. “Weather’s working against both teams tonight. Play smart, protect the ball, and let’s end this season right.”

Dunbar’s first drive proved how bad it was going to be when their running back slipped in the mud when trying to cut, going down hard and losing two yards. Two plays later, they punted after a short completion failed to convert.

We ran out onto the field, ready to start and I swore every time I stopped moving I started to sink into the ground. I had a towel under my shirt to wipe my hands off, but even before the first snap, it was just as wet as everything else.

My first pass, just a short toss to Mickey, slipped right through his hands. I followed this up with my own disaster when, on second down, the ball squirted out of my grip as I went to throw it, causing it to sail wide, thankfully out of the reach of any of their players so at least it wasn’t an interception.

I did manage a short scramble on third down to pick up four yards when the protection broke down, but it wasn’t enough and we had to punt.

And so it went for the next few drives. Passes dropped, runners slipping, the ball seeming to have a mind of its own in the worsening conditions. And the rain showed no signs of letting up.

Finally, Coach called what I think may have been the earliest timeout we’d ever used just to give us a break.

“I think we need to adjust back to the old playbook,” I said to him as soon as we were back on solid running track. “I can’t get anything to land and the receivers’ hands can’t hold onto it. I haven’t completed one pass yet.”

“I was thinking the same thing, actually,” Coach said. “Just keep it simple, try and keep your feet under you. The season is going to be what it’s going to be, I don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

Things got a little better after that. I think the other team had the same idea because nearly every play from both of us ended up being a running play after that.

It became absolute chaos. Running backs sliding, linebackers colliding and both falling backward. It was maybe the worst game of football I’d ever played.

Twice, Coach tried to get the refs to call the game, and both times, they shut it down.

Not that it was all terrible. Midway through the second quarter, back up at our own 13-yard line, the disasters lined up in a way that couldn’t have been better. The snap was high and I had to jump up to reach for it. When I landed my foot kind of slipped, causing me to stumble backward. I was supposed to be handing off to Joe, but my change of direction caused him to have to change direction, and he slid in the mud, landing on his side.

By that point, the pocket was starting to come apart and some of their linemen were crashing through, not leaving me any chance to pass it or find someone else to toss it back to, so I turned and ran.

When I cut left, I barely managed to keep my feet under me as a linebacker dove past, causing Joe to have to roll to keep from being stepped on. The entire line was a mess, and I could see an open gap diagonally from me. I took off, running as fast as I could without falling down, keeping more or less a straight line, as anyone who was trying to cut was finding themselves on their ass as often as not.

The mud worked in my favor, as the guys who tried to cut me off or catch up to me went were slipping and sliding as they tried to change directions.

Eighty-seven yards later, I crossed the goal line, my lungs burning from the cold air and my hip hurting a little bit from the effort of trying to keep from falling down.

The small crowd erupted, and my teammates mobbed me in the end zone. There was no way I think I could ever repeat what just happened. The longest run I’d probably ever make in my football career, and it was pure dumb luck.

Nothing more.

Late in the quarter, the rain finally stopped just as Dunbar got the ball back, and it helped them mount their first real drive of the game. Their quarterback started picking us apart with short passes, working his way down the field capped by a twenty-five-yard completion to their wide receiver put them in scoring position.

Their quarterback scrambled in from the one-yard line after our pass rush lost containment in the slick conditions, answering my earlier touchdown and tying us up.

Going into the half, it was one of the wildest games I’d ever even heard of, let alone been in. Two touchdowns in the game so far, both run in by the quarterback, one for each team. Combine that with the incredibly low rushing and passing yards for a full half of football, and it would be one for the record books, although not in the way I’d like to get there.

Coach met us at the door of the fieldhouse and said, “No big speeches today. Get warm and dry. I know you’re banged up, but we’ve still got another half of football to survive. You guys are doing a good job with what you have to deal with. Keep it up.”

If he kept this up, he was going to lose his reputation as a hard-nosed asshole.

The second half was a little better. While the ground was still quicksand, at least the rain had stopped so our hands could be mostly dry, although we had to change out the towels every other drive because they got so completely covered in mud.

My first pass, I managed to get one of my first passes of the game through as Mickey caught it, picking up nine yards. We kept moving like this downfield in fits and starts, playing Coaches’ old playbook.

Our line was still a problem, though. Once the linemen impacted, all bets were off and three times I had to scramble when blocks were missed after our guys lost their footing. Sadly, my scrambles didn’t end in another huge run, but instead, me on my ass in the mud for a loss, finally ending our first drive of the half with a punt.

The rest of the third quarter went that way, with each of us making a little progress and followed by a disaster and a punt. There were times we were all so covered in mud it was hard to tell who was on what team.

Honestly, it made no sense for us to keep playing. There had been several twisted ankles on each team and one arm on Dunbar’s side that seemed to be broken after a bad fall.

Whatever the actual reason the refs let this mess keep going, it was dangerous and Coach was actually kind of pissed about it.

Halfway through the fourth quarter, both teams started to slow down. We were tired, fighting through the mud and I think we were both ready just to get the damn game over with and take a shower.

Not that we were giving up.

The disasters had been kind of small through the third and most of the fourth quarter, just ending drives but not leading to major turnovers, until third and Nine with about four minutes left to go. I snapped the ball and took a few steps back right as both Andre and Bryce, who was in the line right next to him, slipped. Andre went to a knee and Bryce straight fell on his face as the opposing lineman took a small step back causing Bryce to slip.

I’m not sure if it was intentional or not, but it worked, because there was now a huge hole in the line and the pocket completely collapsed.

I spun away from their lineman, nearly losing my footing. I took off to the right, hoping to see someone open, and managed to cut away from the lineman who came charging in, keeping my footing while he slipped.

It left open a hole for me, and I went for it, continuing to veer right as I ran, closing in on the sidelines. We were close to the end zone and I did not want to screw up and drop the ball when I got hit cause the ball was muddy and slippery.

Their safety was slow, however. Maybe he was tired or maybe he was just having trouble keeping his footing, but he didn’t have the speed to catch me, and I got across the end zone several steps ahead of him, putting us up by seven more after we made the extra point.

I think that just about did it for everyone. The last few minutes of the fourth quarter, both teams just kind of gave in. The rain came back with a minute to play, and everyone was half-assing it.

As a game of football, this might be one of the worst ever played, although who knows. From the stands, maybe seeing all of us slipping and sliding around a destroyed field was worth it for the amusement alone.

It also had a distinction of, I think, maybe being one of the first games where every touchdown was scored by a quarterback.

Which is nuts.

I just hoped the UIL or whoever was in charge of the refs actually took notes and kept this kind of game from happening again, because it sucked.