First Down for the Girls

First Down for the Girls~ Five

     I roll out of bed at exactly 3 a.m., bright-eyed and with only one thing on my mind. 

     Payback.

     The group is sleeping soundly from what I can tell.  Tristan's body only shuffles a little as I roll out of bed, and quietly step over towards his suitcase.  Evan's snores cover the loud creek that follows as my foot steps on a hollow board.  I lug the bag over my shoulder and sneak out the room, making sure to only crack the door a little so the light won't pour out on Tristan's peaceful (demonic) face. 

     The laundry area isn't too far away from what I remember.  But I can't help but jump every second as a branch cracks, or whip my head around as I hear what seems to be footsteps.  I wonder if Tristan faced this must stress as he carried out his pranks on me.

     I pour out Tristan's clothes onto the floor as I enter the laundry room, unable to suppress the grin that spreads across my face.  I can only imagine his frustration to find his clothes about four sizes too small when he wakes up in the morning.  I turn the washing machine on 'hot', and throw his shorts and shirts in, before leaning against it in glee.  For years I had dealt with his taunts and tricks.  A guy wouldn't even look at me the moment Tristan filled his head with some nonsense, like how I was actually a man, or how I had contracted some disease.  For once, it was nice to be the one standing on the other side.  It was satisfying.  It was exciting.  It was—

     "Tyler?"

     I just about jump out of my skin to see a shadow standing in the laundry room door.  I grab the laundry detergent bottle as defense.  "Stay back.  I have a weapon."

     The shadow chuckles in response and steps into the stream of moonlight coming from the window.  I relax once I realize its Ben. 

     "Sorry," I put down my weapon of mass destruction.  "What are you doing here?"

     He jumps up and sits on the dryer.  "I've got insomnia.  Can't sleep.  You too?"

     "Yeah.  I decided to do some laundry."  Feeling more comfortable, I jump up beside him. 

     He looks at me, smiling slightly.  "I've been meaning to tell you. I'm quite impressed with you."

     "Me?"  I frown.

     He nods.  "Coming all the way from Iowa, and creating the Death Throw as the Quarterback of your team.  It's pretty awesome."

     I rub my arm. "Oh, yeah.  That.  Thanks."

     "And to be so skinny!  I mean, you can't weigh more than a hundred and thirty pounds, right?  Plus, you're like five-six, five-seven.  But still, despite all that you've managed to lead a high school football team."  I shift uncomfortably.  I get it, Ben.  I'm awesome.

     "Yeah, I guess—"

     "And then for someone as skilled as you to hide your talent, allowing Logan to pummel you into the ground and break you like a twig, I just... I just can't believe it."  His eyes change as he quirks an eyebrow.  "Really.  I can't believe it."

     I bite my lip, and avoid his glance, knowing my eyes will reveal the truth. "Well, you know. I don't want to waste all that energy on practice.  I've got to save up for the real games."

     "Right."  He rolls his eyes.  "Now, how about coming up with an honest answer. "

     He suspects something, obviously, but I don't think he knows enough to recognize I'm a girl.  And it's not like I can say that I used it as an alibi to cover up the fact that I'm stalking someone.