Battle of the Captains

the quarterback

Our school's side of the football field was a zoo of cheers and excited footsteps against the metal bleachers echoing into the night. The crown made rowdy, inhuman noises of victory when the team's running back crossed the end zone, scoring the touchdown that saved and won the game for the Northwood tigers. The voices of the cheerleaders that had once over-powered hundreds were ghosts floating in the background to the scene as we clapped and chanted school cheers that we rehearsed specifically for the occasion that we won. Liz Montgomery, however, was just as much a mess of happiness as everyone else, squealing and jumping uncontrollably, mumbling gibberish to the beat of the chants.

I laughed as I tried to place my hands on either side of my best friend's bouncing shoulders. "Will you calm down?"

Then Clay, the runner-back, hero of the day, dropped the football and turned to face our direction– or more specifically, her direction– and pointed a victorious finger at her, dedicating the touchdown to her. Sweet as it was, the action produced soft sighs and girly squeals from the other cheerleaders in our team and a nudge to Liz's side from me. Liz didn't blush like I expected based on her reactions at any other thing sweet her boyfriend of five months did, but if she did, I wouldn't have noticed with her hands cupped around her mouth to yell more cheers of encouragement to her boyfriend as the rest of the winning team surrounded him with pats on the back.

"I need a boyfriend," Ashley said beside me, playing with the hem of her cheer skirt, staring at the football players gathered on the field eagerly. "Preferably, a football playing one."

"Good luck with that." I knew what the football guys around Northwood were like. I knew what football guys anywhere were like. They were all trouble and the worst kind with their intimidating conceit that put them on the top of the food chain. "They aren't really worth it. Waste of time, Ashley. They're not boyfriend material anyway."

"You're bitter," Ashley laughed. But bitter wasn't exactly the word I'd use to describe my feelings towards the football player folk. The people I lived with were of that species and my friends were one of them, too. I was often associated with football players, pretty much being a 'groupie'– I hated that, by the way– myself. 'Fed up' was a more accurate term. "And how would you know what boyfriend material is?" I gave her a flat look. "Lighten up, Kody. And don't let any of the champions hear you say that they aren't worth it or you'll be in big trouble."

"I'm so scared."

Liz didn't seem to notice that we were talking. She was too busy smiling like a fool at a boy.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry," she said, though she had nothing to be sorry about, really. "I can't calm down. I'm just so happy for him. We would've lost if we didn't have Clay on the team, right? He's amazing."

And she obviously wasn't okay. She was so love sick. It was almost contagious.

This was a fresh relationship. I hoped that she wouldn't be this bad forever.

Not a minute later, Clay, the 'amazing', emerged from the crowd of big muscular boys on the field and jogged toward her. He pulled her into his arms, which was honestly unruly because he was sweaty and he probably reeked of body odor. Or probably not because Liz didn't make a face or complain.

"You were great," Liz praised.

"I wanted to impress you." As if anything he did, didn't impress her.

"Not again," I said with an exaggerated tone for them to hear me so that he would release her from his sweaty hold.

Without even giving me a glance, he let go. "Leave us alone, Kody," he said, not unkindly. If it weren't for the post-victory music, I could probably hear the chuckle.