Five minutes before the game is to start, the sky has opened up and rain is drenching me. But I barely feel it—I can only concentrate on the game and the Alabama recruiter. I ignore the dozens of reporters taking pictures of me from behind the fence.
I’m desperate for air. I try to suck in as much oxygen as possible through my face mask, but it’s not working. I pick up a football and twirl and f lip it over and over again.
A hand comes down on my shoulder, and I turn and find Mike. His blond hair is plastered to his face, and his polo shirt and jeans are soaked. My bro is about the only person Coach allows on the sidelines during a game.
“Hey, sis.” He leans in close and whispers, “So where’s Ty?”
“Shut up,” I say. “I’m trying to concentrate. And you need an umbrella—you’ll get sick before your game tomorrow.”
He shrugs, then rubs my arm. “You need to loosen up, or you’re gonna be stiff as Grandpa Woods.”
I f lash him a withering look. Doesn’t he know how important this game is?
“Yes, I know how important this game is,” Mike says.
“Yo, Woods.”
I see JJ walking up. “Yeah?” I say.
“I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to your brother,” JJ replies, shaking Mike’s hand. “Nice to see you, man.”
“You too, JJ. So where’s this hot new quarterback, Ty?” Mike asks. JJ glances at me. I’m glad I’m wearing my helmet, ’cause I can feel my face heating up again.
“Number fifteen,” JJ mutters.
“Thanks,” Mike says, slapping JJ on the back and wandering away.
“What was that all about?” JJ asks.
“I dunno. I told him how good Ty is. He’s interested.”
“Well, Ty better not try to take the spotlight away from you, or I’ll kick his ass. I can’t believe he fucking tried to come in here and take your position,” JJ growls.
“Take it out on Lynchburg, okay?” I say, laughing.
I watch as Mike goes up to Ty, shakes his hand, and claps him on the back. Ty yanks off his helmet and smiles at Mike, and they begin to talk animatedly. Mike points at the field, probably describing how crappy Lynchburg’s field is, pointing out all the divots in the ground.
I feel fingers poke me in my sides, and I whirl around to find Henry carrying an umbrella under his arm. He whips it out and opens it up, holding it above me.
“Stop it,” I hiss. “You’re making me look like a pansy.”
“Fine,” Henry replies. I can see him smiling behind his face mask. He takes two giant steps away from me, but keeps the umbrella out and stands under it alone. Henry jerks his head toward Mike and Ty. “So what’s going on down there?”
I sigh. All my guy friends are way too protective and nosy. “He wanted to meet Ty. I told him how good he is.”
“How good he is, eh?”
“Shut up, Henry. I’m trying to get in the zone.”
“Dude, we’re playing Lynchburg! We might as well be playing a Pop Warner team.” Henry moves closer to me again and hands the umbrella to a freshman. Squeezing my hand, he says, “You’re gonna rock tonight.”
“You too,” I reply as Mike and Ty walk up.
Henry sees Mike leaning in close to me and quickly moves over to listen. Mike whispers, “The Alabama coach is here.”
Henry and I twirl around to face the fence where boosters and alumni usually stand and take notes. Sure enough, a man wearing a red Alabama Roll Tide windbreaker is there.
Mike continues, “Recruiters from Ohio State are here too.”
“They must be here for Carter.” I feel awful that recruiters from Michigan aren’t here. Henry’s wanted to go to school there for as long as I can remember.
“Knock ’em dead, Woods,” Henry says. He slaps my back as the referee motions for captains to take the field for the coin toss. I jog toward the fifty-yard line with JJ and Carter and soon I’m standing in the center of the field with Carter on my right and JJ on my left. The ref tells me to call it.
“Heads,” I say. The ref f lips the quarter up into the air, and it hits the ground and lands on tails. The Lynchburg captain says they’ll kick off. Looking at the field, I say we want to defend the less muddy side. I don’t want our defense slipping and falling all over the place. I’d rather run through the mud on the other side. JJ, Carter, and I jog back over to the sidelines, where I knock fists with Henry before he heads out to return the punt.
“That’s cool that Ohio State’s here,” I say to Carter. He shrugs, which surprises me. I figured he’d be ecstatic. Joe Carter Sr. was a starting linebacker for Ohio State, not to mention the Miami Dolphins and the Titans!
As the other team kicks off, Ty joins me. Together, we watch as Henry catches the ball and takes off down the field. He’s at our twenty, then our thirty…he zigs and zags past a couple cornerbacks, who trip and fall into the mud. Then Henry drives straight down, and he’s past the other team’s twenty, then the ten. And touchdown!
Our cheerleaders cheer like crazy; our marching band plays a fight song. We are awesome.
“Damn,” Ty says. “He made that look easy.”
Screaming, I jump up and down. I shove a freshman, who stumbles and falls onto the bench. I shove JJ, who doesn’t budge of course, but it’s the principle of the shove that matters. I knock fists and give high-fives to other guys on the sidelines, including Ty. When our hands high-five each other, I feel this, like, bolt of electricity between us.
Henry spikes the ball and starts to do a dance, but then stops. I guess he realizes a dance isn’t worth a penalty in this weather. After our kicker makes the extra point, our defense hustles out and doesn’t allow Lynchburg even one first down.
Showtime.
Jogging out onto the field, I take my position behind JJ.
Lynchburg’s nose tackle says, “Hey, dyke. Your ass looks better than it did last year.”
“Shut your mouth, asshole,” JJ says, slapping the tackle’s face mask.
“It’s okay,” I say to JJ, loud enough for the tackle to hear me, “The only girlfriend he’ll ever have is his right hand.”
Coach talks to me through the speaker in my helmet. “Only carries tonight, Woods. No f lashy passes.”
“Red fifty!” I yell. “Red fifty! Blue twenty-five!” The cue is blue twenty-five, meaning JJ hikes me the ball, I hand it off to our starting running back, Drew Bates, and he drives it up the middle. We get the first down easily.
JJ slammed the hell out of the nose tackle, who’s now lying on the ground, clutching his stomach. “Nice,” I say with a laugh.
The weather is causing Lynchburg to play even worse than usual, which is pretty damned bad, so we keep driving down the field.
After I hand the ball off for the second touchdown, I hear Mom screaming for me from the bleachers. She’s sitting with Carter’s mom, Henry’s mom, and JJ’s parents.
I didn’t figure Dad would come, but my head droops when I see he’s not here.
Sopping wet with rain, Mom grins as she screams my name. I can’t wait to tell her how much I love her.
By halftime, the score is 28–0. I’m embarrassed for Lynchburg, but I’m playing an amazing game even if I’m only handing the ball off and not throwing any long passes. I did run for a touchdown, though, just because I need to show off for the Alabama guy. Normally I don’t do things like that, but if I can’t throw any long bombs in this weather, I’ve gotta do something to make myself stand out.
Now we’re in the guys’ locker room, and since we’re winning, Coach doesn’t have to yell at us about what we’re doing wrong, so I drink some Gatorade and dry off. My hands are so soaked they look like raisins. Henry squeezes in on one side of me on the bench, and Ty squeezes in on the other. Because we’re slaughtering Lynchburg, I feel like I can relax a bit, so I leave the football zone and start thinking of Ty again. His elbow is touching mine. Breathe, Jordan, breathe. Don’t think about his bicep. Don’t think about that swatch of tan skin, peeking out from under his uniform, right above his hip. Wouldn’t it be great if we were the only two people in here right now? We could rip our uniforms off and—
“Woods!” Coach says.
“What’s up?”
“I’m taking you out of the game for the second half.”
JJ, Carter, and Henry jump up. They all start yelling, “Are you serious, Coach?” and “She’s rocking this game!” and “An Alabama coach is out there!”
Coach holds up a hand. “Woods has shown she’s perfectly capable of running a football field. But the weather is getting worse out there, and I don’t want her to get hurt.”
“You sound like my dad.”
Coach yanks off his hat and rubs his head, frowning at me. “I bet your dad would agree with me. I’m putting Ty in for the second half.”
“Damn it!” I say, standing and marching out of the locker room. When I’m out in the hallway, I take a long, deep breath and run my hands through my wet hair.
How could Coach do this to me? Alabama’s here to see me. Me. Jordan Woods.
Not Ty.
It’s like everyone on the freaking planet is out to stop me from playing ball and achieving my dreams. Everyone except the guys on my team.
My team…
No one respects a captain who acts like that, no matter if Coach is just plain idiotic tonight, so I go back into the locker room. “Sorry, Coach,” I say. “Won’t happen again.”
Coach smiles, tossing a ball to me. “Great. Help Ty warm up.”
•••
Thank the Lord that Coach isn’t a meteorologist, ’cause his predictions suck.
The weather’s getting worse, my ass. By the time Ty is warmed up, bright stars fill the clear sky.
I’m yelling instructions at the defensive players on the field when Mike comes and stands next to me. “You played a hell of a game, sis.”
“Thanks,” I mutter. “Can’t believe Coach pulled me out.”
“Doesn’t matter. You showed everyone your stuff.”
“Did you talk to the Alabama recruiter?”
He grins. “Yup.”
“What did he say?”
“Now’s not a good time. Focus on the game. Talk to you at home.” Mike wanders back over to the fence where the Alabama and Ohio State guys are still standing with Carter’s dad. I wish I had my bro’s schmoozing skills.
We don’t let Lynchburg get a first down, so it’s already our ball. Ty runs out onto the field, making even jogging look effortless.
The Lynchburg defense seems to relax when they see I haven’t rejoined the game. Big mistake. Big. Even though Ty’s only had one practice with our team, a practice that lasted about twenty minutes, he will destroy Lynchburg.
JJ hikes the ball to Ty. He takes a five-step drop and scans the field. JJ lets a defenseman get past him. On purpose, obviously. JJ would never let a Lynchburg linebacker get anywhere near me. It doesn’t matter, though, because Ty sidesteps the linebacker and launches a deep pass to Henry, who’s vying with a cornerback in the end zone. The ball sails right into Henry’s open arms.
Shit.
Ty just threw a forty-yard pass! God, I don’t think I could’ve done that.
I turn to find Mike and the college recruiters. The coaches are speaking quickly to a gaping Mike, who says something to them. The recruiters scribble something in their notebooks.
Ty’s name.
Will the Alabama guy even remember me after seeing Ty’s pass?
After yanking his helmet off, Ty comes jogging over. He drops a hand onto my shoulder and pulls me close. I quickly shake his hand off.
“I’m sorry, Woods,” Ty says in his thick Texas drawl.
“It’s okay,” I mutter. “Nice pass.” After JJ hikes the ball so our kicker can take the extra point, I pull him aside. “JJ, don’t ever do that again.”
“Do what?”
“Let a linebacker go after a player like that. Ty could’ve gotten clobbered. Thank God it’s only Lynchburg.”
“What the hell do you care? The dude stole your position.”
“JJ, I don’t care if he threatens to kill my unborn children. Ty is still part of the team. We take care of each other. Understand?” I smack JJ’s helmet hard enough to make his head hurt, to make a point.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Then I see Ty talking to Duckett, who’s wearing his “I’m freaked out of my mind” face, so I go see what’s happening there. I hear Ty say, “You can’t interfere with a receiver like that—you just cost us fifteen yards!”
Ty’s advice is right on, but he’s not the coach, and he’s certainly not captain. “Duckett,” I say, “You’re playing a fantastic game, but Ty’s right. Don’t let it happen again.”
“Got it, Woods.” Duckett glares at Ty and walks away.
“You were too nice to him,” Ty tells me.
“I’m the captain here. There’s a big difference between being brutally honest and telling people what they need to hear. Understand?”
Ty stares at me like he’s never taken directions from anyone before.
I grab him by the jersey and pull him closer. “You got a problem with one of the players, you bring it to me. Understand?”
“Sorry,” he mutters. He rubs the back of his neck, furrowing his eyebrows at me.
“I run the field for Hundred Oaks. Not you.”
“Understood.” Ty shoves his helmet back onto his head and runs out for our next play. Henry and JJ follow Ty, but once they’re gone, Carter comes over to me.
“I don’t like this one bit, Woods,” Carter says. “Something’s off about that guy—he assumes way too much.”
“It’s under control,” I reply in a tone that tells Carter to go away, which he does. But I can’t help but wonder if Carter’s right. This is my team. It’s only our first game, and Coach has already taken me out and put in our far-better quarterback, a quarterback who’s used to calling the shots and getting his way.
But I won’t be controlled by anyone. No matter how cute he is.
•••
As usual, I’m the first one out of the locker room and seated on the bus. I pull out my iPod and stretch across the last row. JJ and I always sit in the last two bus benches—it’s one of those senior perks. Closing my eyes, I listen to some rap music and hope the beats will relax me. I can’t wait to get home and hear what the recruiter said to Mike about me. Of course, he might have already forgotten about me—considering I’m only the second-best high school QB in Tennessee now.
We won 42–0. Ty was nice enough to take it easy on Lynchburg, only throwing two long passes, both to Henry. Three touchdowns for Henry in one game is awesome—the college coaches definitely must’ve noticed that. I find myself smiling at the memory of Henry’s dance at the end of the game. In the end zone, after his third touchdown, he did this one move called “The Lawn Mower,” where he pretends to start a lawn mower. Then he did “The Sprinkler.”
That one got us an unsportsmanlike conduct penalty and then we had to kick off from fifteen yards back. Coach got angry about Henry’s showboating, but I didn’t care.
Suddenly, the rest of the team gets on the bus, and the bus starts bouncing and shaking, and the other players’ yelling distracts me from the music and my thoughts. I close my eyes again. I feel a tap on my foot, and expecting to see JJ, I look up and find Ty standing in front of me. He pushes my legs, causing me to sit up and my feet to fall to the f loor, and starts to squeeze in next to me on the bench.
“Woods likes to sit alone,” Carter calls out. “Get your ass to your own seat.”
Ty turns and glares. “Mind your business, Carter. I need to talk to Woods about the game.” He slides in, hip-checking me up against the window.
Crap. I must smell awful, like a mixture of sweat, wet dog, and the odor of diesel gas that has seeped into the vinyl bus seats. But it doesn’t matter what I smell like. I can’t let my guard down with this guy, or he won’t just take over my position. He’ll take over the entire team.
“Hey,” he says, patting my knee. “Great game tonight. You’re really good.”
I fold my arms across my stomach. “You’re good too.”
“I’m just glad I got to play—I love football so much.”
“Me too…” I pause for a beat before adding, “I’ve loved it ever since I was five, when Dad took me to my first pro game—Super Bowl XXXII.”
Ty smiles. “Broncos-Packers?”
“Yup.”
“Awesome game—John Elway destroyed Brett Favre.”
I say, “Favre sucks,” and Ty says, “I can’t stand Brett Favre,” at the same time, and then we both say, “Jinx.” I pinch his forearm as he pinches my thigh.
We laugh, and he leans into my shoulder, and then we smile at each other. His eyes are so blue…
“So what did you want to talk about?” I ask.
Ty grins that wicked smile of his again. He whispers, “I lied. I just wanted an excuse to sit with you.”
Right then, Henry grabs the seat directly in front of us, quickly glances into my eyes, and then sits down and faces forward. Normally, he hangs over the back of his seat and chats with me, but he slouches so far down in his seat that I can’t even see him.
I put my headphones back on and recline against the vinyl seat, and Ty nestles his arm up against mine—it feels warm.
When we get back to the school parking lot, I say goodbye to the team, knock fists with everybody, then head to my truck.
“Yo, Woods,” Henry says as he jogs up. “Want to come to Higgins’s party with me?” He rubs his palms together, then drops his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans.
I hurl my bag into the bed of my truck. “Thanks, but I’m gonna head home.”
“You gonna let Ty go home with you too?” he snaps.
“He was just sitting with me,” I mumble. What the hell is Henry’s problem?
Henry heads toward his rusty maroon truck and turns around to face me as he walks backward. After glancing over at Ty, he locks eyes with me and says, “Well, you know where the real party is if you decide you don’t want to be alone.” Then he shouts to the masses, “Party at Higgins’s! Who’s with me?”
The team erupts, and five members of Henry’s harem miraculously appear and drape themselves all over him.
Ty comes over to me, shaking his head at Henry. “You going to the party?”
“Nah,” I respond. “I’ve got to hit the sack. I’m going to my brother’s game tomorrow in Knoxville.”
“That sounds cool. I’d love to see him play sometime. I enjoyed meeting him tonight—he’s nice people.”
“Yeah—I love my bro.”
Ty brushes his hair off his forehead. “So, um, want some company tomorrow at Mike’s game?”
Holy shit. What an offer. But Knoxville is an hour and a half away. That’s way too long to be alone with Ty and my parents.
“I’m riding to the game with my parents, Ty. Trust me, you’d rather go clothes shopping for all eternity than spend three hours in a car with them. Maybe some other time.”
“I don’t mind riding with them.”
“I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
Ty frowns and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Did I do something to make you mad? I’m sorry Coach put me in tonight, but I don’t think that’s any reason for you to be pissed at me. You were slaughtering that team.”
I shake my head. “It’s nothing like that.”
“What is it then?” he blurts. He throws his head back and closes his eyes.
Shit. So maybe I haven’t been the nicest person. But I can’t tell him why he’s distracting the hell out of me.
Ty turns, starts to walk away, and waves over his shoulder. “I guess I’ll see you around then.”
“Wait, Ty—how are you getting home?”
“I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to arrange rides for me.”
Tears rush to my eyes. “Um, I was going to offer to take you home. And, to ask if maybe you, I mean, if you aren’t doing anything on Sunday…”
He stops, turns, and raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?”
“Um, would you want to go to my dad’s preseason game with me? In Nashville? He’s playing the Patriots. I always go when he plays New England because Tom Brady’s awesome, but don’t tell my dad I said that.”
Ty smiles. “A Titans game? An actual NFL game? I’ve never been to one before.”
That surprises me. It’s strange that someone as good as Ty has never been to a pro game. “Yeah,” I say, “JJ, Carter, and I are going together. And maybe Henry, if he can drag himself out of bed in time. That’s doubtful, though.”
“Do I need to get a ticket?”
“Of course not—we’ll sit in the owner’s box.”
“Damn. Yeah, I definitely want to come.”
“Cool. I’ll call you about details. Oh—and wear a suit or something nice.”
“I can do that. Thanks for the invite.”
I smile. This is great. I get to hang out with Ty under the supervision of JJ and Carter. They’ll keep me sane. “Did you want a ride home tonight?”
“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll check out this party.”
“Gonna hang with Kristen again?”
“Hell no,” he says, laughing. “I like being with girls who have actual brain activity. Girls like you.”
Oh. My. God. I quickly say, “Have fun. I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye!” I jump into my truck and drive away. I don’t bother looking in the rearview mirror this time. I know he’s watching me.
•••
At home, I run upstairs to Mike’s room and pound on the door.
“Come in.” I open the door to find Mike lounging on the f loor playing a football video game. I sit down next to him, and he passes me the second controller. “What are you doing home so early?” he asks. “No parties or anything? No hot date with Ty?”
“If you want to play ball tomorrow, you’d better shut your mouth, because I’ll kick your ass.”
“Yeah, right.” Mike laughs as he immediately scores a touchdown. Man, do I suck at video games.
“So tell me what the Alabama coach said about me already!”
“We’re going to talk about Ty first. He’s really cool, Jordan. And even though he’s not starting this year, he’ll have his pick of colleges.”
“Great,” I say, throwing the controller down. I stand and shuff le across the room and fall onto Mike’s bed. “Tell me what the Alabama guy said.”
“Well, on the down low, since I stretched the rules a bit by talking to him about you, if you keep playing like you did tonight, they’ll offer you a full ride.”
“You’re kidding me!”
“Nope,” Mike says. “Keep up the good work and you’re a shoo-in for Alabama. Just don’t get distracted, don’t get hurt, and don’t do anything stupid.”
“But isn’t it kinda weird that they’re willing to give me the full ride even though I didn’t make any big passes tonight?”
“Hell, don’t question it,” Mike says, laughing. “Just roll with it. I would.”
“It would be awesome if I went to Alabama—we’d be rivals!”
“Tennessee would totally kick your ass.”
“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”
Mike rubs his jaw. “But there’s one thing I don’t think either of us has considered. The coaches of any school you go to are going to use you as a recruitment tool. Alabama will be showcasing you all the time, and they’ll want you to help with advertising.”
“Ugh,” I say. “Like that time Sports Illustrated wanted to do an article on me? Thank God Dad stepped in and said no.”
“Yup,” Mike says. “I don’t think your life will be so private anymore. Everyone’s going to know everything about you.”
“As long as I can play college ball, I don’t care.”
“Cool. Now, on to more important issues—tell me what’s up with Ty. I like him.”
“Me too. I invited him to Dad’s game on Sunday. Are you going?”
“I can if you want me to. Don’t you want some alone time with Ty?” Mike asks, grinning.
“Please come. Please help me act normal. I really like Ty and want to be his friend, but I keep pushing him away. He sat next to me on the bus tonight and I ignored him most of the time.”
Mike suddenly drops the controller. “He sat next to you on the bus? In the back row? In front of all those guys? Oh sis, he totally wants you bad.”
“What are you talking about?” I say with a sigh.
“I can’t even imagine having the guts to sit with a girl in front of all those guys. Henry and JJ will kick Ty’s ass if he hurts you. And even if they don’t kick his ass, they’ll make fun of him for it in the locker room. Hell, I’d never stop mentioning it,” Mike laughs.
Enough about Ty. “I’m going to bed. Thanks for the help with the coach.”
“No prob. Wait—Jordan,” Mike says, standing and putting a hand on my shoulder. “Give Ty a shot. I don’t want you to go through life never taking a chance on a guy.”
“I don’t know if I can,” I whisper.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know how to kiss or anything like that.”
Mike chuckles. “Sis, if he kisses you, you’ll figure out how to kiss back pretty quickly.”
“What if we get together, and then he breaks up with me? That would suck. And then we’d be stuck on a team together.”
“He wouldn’t risk anything if he wasn’t serious. Trust me. I can tell he’s a good guy.”
I nod. “Yeah, I know.”
But is a good guy worth the risk of losing sight of my goals? My dreams?
***
only father
Watching my favorite sport
Watching my favorite brother
(okay, my only brother)
Watching my only father cheer for Mike
Smiling
Laughing
Shouting
Telling Mom how proud he is
Saying no father could have a better son
And I’m sitting right there
Ready to drown myself in nacho cheese
’Cause all I have is football
And the person I want to share it with,
more than anything
Hasn’t even asked if I won last night…
***
henry
the count? 17 days until alabama
In his game, Mike totally kicked the Florida Gators’ asses, 21–10. I screamed so much for my brother that I got hoarse.
Now I’m back at home, sitting in the kitchen, texting with Henry.
I text: How did party go?
Henry texts back: Carter got trashed & made out with freshman from lunch.
WTF! Carter really got drunk?
Yeah, it was crazy. I was counting on him to give me a ride & I ended up lugging him home. He’s a heavy SOB. LOL.
I know. He killed me with that sack on Wed. JJ?
After crazy fight, JJ & Lacey went upstairs to bedroom.
Shocker. Was Carrie there?
Yup.
And?
I hung with Marie again.
Was Ty there?
Kristen spent entire time throwing herself @ Ty
When I read that text, I throw up in my mouth. I text Henry back: Does Ty like Kristen?
Don’t think so. Carter, JJ & I will be at su casa in hour 4 fantasy draft
K
Mom comes into the kitchen, carrying a bundle of sunf lowers, and arranges them in a vase. “What are you doing tonight, Jordan?”
“The guys are coming over. Is that okay?”
Mom nods, pulling a bottled water from the fridge, and takes a seat.
“Thanks for coming to my game last night, Mom.”
She smiles. “Wouldn’t have missed it. So…tell me about Ty Green. I haven’t seen a high school quarterback like him in years. Maybe ever.”
“I know.”
“He’s better than your brother was at seventeen.”
“Yeah, but we can’t tell Mike that!”
Mom laughs lightly. “Were you upset with Coach Miller for taking you out?”
“Oh, hell yeah.”
“Is Ty coming over tonight?” Mom asks. Glancing up at me, she starts peeling the label off her bottled water.
“Nah. But I invited him to Dad’s game tomorrow.”
“Ah, well I can’t wait to meet him. He looks like a cute young man.”
“Yup,” I say before thinking.
“Oh?” Mom’s grinning now. “Do you like him as more than a teammate?”
I shrug.
Mom folds her hands together and lifts them to her chin, and her smile brightens even brighter, like how the sky gets when the sun starts dribbling over the horizon during early morning runs.
Before I embarrass myself even more, and before Mom can start talking about feelings and shit, I dart out of the kitchen and run downstairs.
•••
Later that evening, the guys and I are finishing up our fantasy draft while eating enough Chinese food to feed all of China itself.
Henry lies down on the rug and clutches his stomach. “Remind me not to eat two orders of General Tso’s chicken ever again.”
“Hey, Henry,” I say.
“Yeah?” he replies with a grin.
“Don’t eat two orders of General Tso’s chicken ever again.”
“This egg drop soup is complete crap,” Carter says, kicking the egg snot stuff around with a spoon. “Not enough salt. And the eggs are rancid.”
“When I turn eighteen, I’m getting a tattoo,” JJ announces.
“Of what?” Henry asks.
“I’m thinking of getting a Chinese character, like right above my butt,” he says, pointing at his lower back.
“You would get a tramp stamp,” I say, biting into a fortune cookie as Henry and Carter start laughing. “What would it say?”
“I was thinking thunder, or ripple, you know, something deep like that.”
Henry hoists himself up onto an elbow and leans over to whisper in my ear. “Maybe we could pay the tattoo artist off, and get him to write the Chinese word for exit.”
I crack up. “Totally.”
“What are you talking about?” JJ demands.
“We think you should go with thunder,” Henry says, biting his lips together.
JJ thinks for a moment. “Yeah, you’re right. Thunder, it is.”
“I’ll get a tattoo too,” Henry says, f lexing his left arm. “Of a hula girl, on my bicep.”
I grin before asking, “What are you gonna get, Carter?”
“Um, maybe, like, f lames? What about you, Woods?”
“Maybe the Alabama logo?” I point at my hip bone and say, “Right here?”
Henry coughs into a fist as JJ’s cell rings.
“Yo, how’s my favorite girl?” JJ says, grinning lazily and reclining against the couch as if he’s the Greek god in charge of pleasuring the women of Hundred Oaks High School. Hell, he’s probably waiting on some girls to jump out of the closet and start fanning him with palm leaves while feeding him potato chips. “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” JJ continues, standing up.
“Who was that?” Henry asks. “The redheaded chick from the cafeteria?”
“Nah. Lacey wants me to come over.” JJ winks. “She needs me.”
Henry laughs. “Have fun, man.”
“Gag me,” I mutter as I start cleaning up trash, picking up used chopsticks and fortune cookie wrappers.
JJ says, “Later,” and runs up the stairs and out the basement door.
Carter stands up and throws a few take-out cartons away. “I’m gonna jet too, Woods. I need to get home before my dad freaks out.”
“Why would he?” I ask, throwing Diet Coke cans into the recycling bin.
Carter shrugs, but he looks sad. “He thinks I’m not getting enough sleep.”
I nod, understanding completely. I can’t imagine what it’s like to live in casa de Carter, where protein shakes and stomach crunches start the day, and pushups and being in bed by 10:00 p.m. end it.
Is that why Carter got drunk last night? Did he need a release or something?
“That’s cool,” I say, not wanting to push Carter into talking if he doesn’t want to.
“Are you sure you’re not secretly meeting up with that hot freshman from last night?” Henry says, a smile stretching across his face.
“No,” Carter blurts out. “Shouldn’t have done that…I mean, I’m not even into Stacey.” He seems seriously torn up. “She’s a nice girl.”
“I get it,” Henry says, slapping a hand on Carter’s back. “After practice on Monday, let’s go to the batting cages, okay?”
“Cool,” Carter says, knocking fists with Henry and me before heading upstairs.
So now it’s just me and Henry. I f lop down on the couch and grab the remote, fully expecting him to leave in a few seconds. I’m sure he’s got gobs of nameless chicks waiting for him.
Flipping through the channels, I stop on ESPN as Henry sits down on the sofa cushion next to me. He slumps down and closes his eyes, and even though he was acting normal a couple of minutes ago, I can feel sadness radiating off him like steam rising from hot asphalt in summertime.
“Can I stay over?” Henry asks finally.
“Sure. You’re not going out?” I’m surprised, and glad, when he says he’d rather stay in than go out with the cheerleader du jour. I feel better when I know he’s safe and not out doing anything crazy or reckless, like driving his truck at eighty miles an hour through a mud pit.
“Not tonight.” He looks over at me and runs a hand through his hair. “You’re not going out either?” he asks.
“What could I possibly have to do? JJ and Carter just ditched us. You’re all I have left,” I say, laughing.
“What about Ty?”
I feel myself blushing, my face ripening up like a strawberry. “Eh…I dunno. He’s coming to the game with us tomorrow.”
“Oh really?” He sighs, picks up the remote, and starts f lipping through the channels.
“Henry—what’s up? Please talk to me.”
“Nothing’s up.”
“I’m worried about you.”
“Can we go to sleep now? I’m tired.”
I have nothing better to do, so I might as well get a good night’s sleep. I’ve gotta try to make myself pretty for Ty tomorrow, and if I only get a couple hours of sleep, I’m sure I’ll look like a gremlin. So I stand, put out both hands, and pull Henry up from the couch, and we go upstairs to my room. He takes off his shirt and jeans and puts on a pair of my mesh shorts as I change into sweatpants and a T-shirt. In my bathroom, we brush our teeth together, then drop our toothbrushes into the holder.
Just as I head to bed, he picks up the tiny canister of shea butter from the counter and flips the lid off. Takes a whiff of it. “Yum. So that’s why you’ve been smelling better lately,” he says, his chest filling with laughter.
Ripping it out of his hand, I say, “Give me that,” but he snatches it away again. He takes some of the shea butter and slathers it on his hands and arms, smiling and smelling himself. I roll my eyes and head to bed.
I yank the covers back and crawl in, and Henry lies down next to me, reeking of shea butter. “Ugh. You smell,” I say. “Turn around. We have to sleep head-to-toe. Mom’s orders.”
“We can’t tonight. I heard a rumor that you have athlete’s foot, and I can’t risk getting it in my nose.”
Laughing, I hit him with a pillow. “If you don’t behave, you’ll have to go sleep in Mike’s room.”
“No!” Henry blurts. He quickly scoots around and moves to the other end of the bed.
“Are you still scared of Mike’s room?” I say, giggling.
He falls face first onto the pillow I just threw at him. In a muff led voice he replies, “No, I’d rather just stay with you.”
“I bet you’re still scared of his room because of your whale dream.”
“We’re not talking about that spooky whale. That haunted house thing was so fucked up.”
“Dude—it wasn’t a haunted house. It was a church Halloween bazaar.”
Henry laughs. “Whatever it was, it was fucked up.”
It’s been nine years since Carter invited us to that Halloween bazaar at his church. Instead of creepy people in Freddy Krueger masks chasing us with chain saws, or people reenacting Blair Witch shit, all the booths were Bible-themed. The church had converted this long dark hallway into a replica of the inside of a whale’s stomach, so people could experience what it was like for Jonah after he was swallowed.
Walking down that almost pitch-black hallway, I felt the walls and found they had hung plastic bags covered in Jell-O and Spam to simulate whale innards. A soundtrack of whale songs and crashing waves played over a cheap stereo, and pudding-filled water balloons littered the f loor. Miniature internal organs?
I thought it was the lamest thing ever.
Henry? Well, Henry freaked out. He must have some deep fear of whales or something because he clutched my elbow and whimpered. Whimpered. I didn’t make fun of him—I just covered his hand with mine and pulled him through the whale’s stomach. Instead of three days, we were in there for about thirty seconds.
Later that night, Henry slept over at our house. He had always stayed in Mike’s room, but in the middle of the night, Henry sneaked into my bed because he’d had a horrible dream he’d been eaten by a whale.
He’s stayed in my room ever since. “You’re definitely still scared of Mike’s room.”
He looks up from the pillow and grins. “Please let me stay. I promise I’ll behave.”
“Fine,” I say, but as soon as we’re lying down head-to-toe, he shoves his socked feet right in my face.
•••
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