"Football is a Man's Sport" My Derriere.

Football is a Man's Sport...(19)

I took a deep breath and walked into Sasha's room. I heard the slap of her laptop being shut and she whirled around in her spinny chair. the same spinny chair that I flew out of when I was ten, and Tyler and I were messing around. I hit the wall and broke my wrist, and Tyler told me to push through the pain ecause he didn't want us to get in trouble. Mom, being a mom, found out anyways.

"Liz? There's this thing, you know, it's really recent but you should know it. It called KNOCKING."

"Kanes don't knock."

"Kane females also don't play football."

We stared at each other, knowing full well there was something between us. I walked over to the bed and sat down. Sasha, the cheerleader to boot, kept her room neat, quite unlike mine. All of her makeup was neatly lined up. I didn't know where my makeup was, and never really bothered with it.

She looked at me, a little irritated. "Well? What do you want?"

I gave her that same, calculating look that said 'I know your dirty little secret'. She folded her arms. "If you think you're going to get anything out of me, you're wrong."

I stared. She looked away. I sighed, running a hand through my tangled hair. "Sasha, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

Yes, I had left Van out on the porch so I could juice my sister.

No, I did not feel the least bit guilty about it.

She looked at me. Her lower lip trembled. And then, finally, she burst into tears. "I'm sorry," she wailed. "I love him!"

I just looked at her. She sobbed into her hands, grabbed a tissue, and blew her nose into it noisily.

"I hate you." I snapped in mock fury. I threw myself off the bed and stomped to the door, leaving her horrified face behind.

I shut the door behind me and snickered to myself.

"That was cold, Elizabeth." Tyler said, passing.

"I learned it from my therapist. Reverse pshycology, dude." I high fived him and walked back outside, grabbing Van's hand. "Come on, I want some ice cream."

~*~

It was halftime, and the team ran in. I stood up and hobbled over to them, yelling instructions as they gulped down Gatorade like their lives depended on it. I was making plans when I heard someone mutter, "Who's the coach anyway?"

"Who said that?" I asked. They all looked away, whistling.

I rolled my eyes and they watched the cheerleaders while I surveyed the competition. Tyler stood next to me, sweaty, but smiling. "Sis, you need to sit down."

I gave him a dirty look.

He backed up, hands in front of him. "Just a suggestion."

Sasha, smiling cheerfully while she yelled cheers, flicked me off from the field. I waved at her, grinning. "I knew she'd figure it out eventually."

We lost the game by one stinking point. I didn't sweat it as much as I usually would've. Why? Because that day, I was being Mellow Liz. My therapist's suggestion, not mine. We went to church on Sunday, all seven of us, and occupied a whole two pews. The first lady, who hated me ever since I got on the team, was preaching today. And looking right in my eye, she preached about Judas.

I forgot to mention, she was also like a bat. And I was in her radar. so of course, she knew about my friendship with Kale, Van, and Sage.

Then, she changed the topic to obiedent women and wives. "Women were not meant to play football! It's wrong! They're supposed to be cooking the football snacks!"

I was getting more and more angry as she spewed her crap, when finally, the pastor slammed his Bible onto his chair. "For the love of God and all that is Holy woman! Shut the hell up!"

All of our jaws just about hit the ground. The pastor quietly nudged her off the podium, and went on to preach about the prodigal son. Everyone was enthralled.

That had to be about the most interesting Sunday ever.

Penelope, by the way, wasn't really my associate anymore. Bennet and I were still going strong though.

Kale and I eventually talked, and he sheepishly mentioned that he may have bumped into my sister at the mall and they got to talking and things just...happened. He was heartbroken because I had just slapped him, and she was sipping a cappichino alone in a booth because her date ahd skipped out on her to go back to his old girlfriend. Fate threw them an easy, straight pass, the kind that dad's throw to their son when they're first learing how to catch a football properly ("cradle it like a baby, Liz, there you go, Tyler that's good too, but watch your sister she's got it.").

Gabe slowly moved from the wheelchair, to the walker, then to the cane. So now, he sort of hobbled around the house. He also got a new girlfriend. Guess who?

His muscle therapist's daughter. Go figure.