Route 28

5

I had to give him credit. If I had to deal with these shouts every night I would go mad. In a way, he was mad. I mean all the crazy shit he does in high school, maybe this is why he always leaves the house. He doesn't make wise choices when he leaves the house, but I guess it's better than being at home with his toxic parents.

"Every fucking night," he covered his face with his hands, "I'll see you tomorrow in the stands, ok?"

I nodded my head. Seeing his happy face in the car turn sad in a split of a second was heartbreaking. I almost wanted to give him a kiss to make the pain disappear, but I'm not a confident girl like that. I'm only good with words.

"Hey, you're not alone," I grabbed his wrist before he went inside, "If you ever wanna talk, I got good ears."

"Thanks, but," he hesitated, "You wouldn't understand the half of it. Your life doesn't compare to mine."

Before I could slap him across the cheek, he slammed the door, and the shouts stopped.

"Asshole!" I screamed at him for the second time in this lifetime.

***

I wasn't really going to go to the game. I know I'm supposed to, but I was thinking of going the last 30 minutes, so I didn't have to sit in the overly crowded student section. There's always three rows of seniors, three rows of juniors, two row of sophomore, and five, sometimes six, rows of freshmen. Everyone spends the whole game talking and when something interesting happens the juniors scream and cheer, and the seniors spend the whole excitement yelling at the sophomores and freshmen for not cheering loud enough.

I went to the first home game with Ebra and I was so squished I had to stand side ways. This blonde next to Ebra was drunk off her ass, even though she got detention for drinking at games twice. She thinks wearing sunglasses when the sun is already down will help her case. She kept dancing and throwing water bottles in the air. I always thought it was ironic that she'd drink until she was drunk when there was a banner about five feet away from her that says "parents, report all underage drinkers!" Next to me was a blonde guy who was higher than the empire state. He kept screaming at every play and would shout an apology in my ear for being too loud.

"What grade are you in?" he asked me during half time.

"Uh, a senior," I muttered. We were in the same grade, and we were in the same history class sophomore year.

"Oh, shit, sorry!" he laughed, "Me too! I'm Lance!"

"Autumn," I gave a grin.

"Yea, I know the damn season, what's your name?" he shouted and people started hearing our conversation.

"Sarah," I muttered a lie to make my life easier, and didn't go to another football game since.

Our high school football team is pretty good; we go to states every year, and almost always win. When I'm at a store and guys attempting to flirt ask me what high school I go to, I always say South Wood and they say "Shit, y'all get states every year!"

The game starts at 7:00, and it's only been an hour since I dropped Colt home. He texted me a few minutes ago, but I didn't answer because it was going to be about me going to the game. My excuse is going to be I took a nap that's why I'm late.

As I cuddled under my warm blanket, my phone vibrated on the table making it ten times louder. I grabbed the phone with my eyes closed and answered it without looking. My raspy voice muttered a "hello". In a damn second, Colt's fucking loud football voice screamed through the speaker.

"Why haven't you been answering my damn texts!" he was so angry.

"I was napping, chill."

"I can not chill," he spat, "If you'd answer my texts you'd see I don't have a fucking ride, and I have to be at school in 30 minutes or else I won't get to play tonight!"

"Oh, I'm driving you to your games now too," I rolled my eyes, "Colt, I'm sorry, but that's a you problem."

"Just this one time, please!"

"What about Eddie?" I asked referring to Colt's friend trying to get out of this job. He's ruining my grand plan of going to the game for the last 20 minutes.

"He's at his grandma's," he explained, "Please, Autumn, please! I'm begging, you!"

"Fine!" I groaned.

"Awesome, I'm outside, open the door."

"What the fu-" he hung up the phone before I could finish my sentence.

I slightly pushed the curtains aside and peeked through the window. There he was, sitting on the grass picking on the grass wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt. I was expecting him in his football uniform, but I guess he changes into it at school.

If Colt wasn't a football star that helps our team win every game, I wouldn't even have considered aiding him. Sadly, him and another senior were the stars that led us to state championships last year. So far, we've won three games in a row, and I know for a fact Colt does not want to be the guy to fuck that up for us.

I sighed and ran down the stairs grabbing my lanyard with my car keys, house keys, and wallet attached. As soon as I opened the door, I wasn't greeted with a 'thank you' from Colt, but a-

"What the hell are you wearing?"

I looked down at my jeans and blue short sleeve. I don't see what the problem with it was. I didn't seem over or underdressed, but I guess to him I was dressed sloppy. I thought I pulled off the casual attire.

"It's a white-out," he remarked.

"So?" I asked, confused.

"So," he tossed me his white, away game jersey I didn't even see he was holding, "You're supposed to dress in all white if you're gonna be in the student section."

I had so many arguments to throw in, such as "who am i even going to sit with?", "people are going to think we're dating if I wear this?", and the worst of them yet, "why the hell do I have to sit in the student section?" Knowing better, I gave up, kept my mouth shut and drove Colt to the school.

And the whole ride, he didn't say 'thank you', and played with the aux cord as usual. The time is 4:30 p.m. and Colt has to be at school in 30 minutes, and I'm going to sit by myself watching not only the team practice, but the game as well.