It was a bad day to be a Northwood cheerleader. It was an even worse day to be the 'star' quarterback– the star quarterback who wasn't shining so brightly and who'd just gotten pulled out of the game for his lousy performance. I would've laughed if it weren't for the tension around the field. Austin had never gotten pulled out of the game for lousy performance.
Blake Richardson was enjoying his early victory way too much. We were down by two touchdowns. But Blake found more satisfaction in Austin's demise than in the statistics of the game.
What was worse? As much as I wanted to blame Austin, it was my fault– all of it.
He was messing up all the plays, looking like he didn't know the first thing about catching or throwing a football. A newborn could catch and throw a ball way better than that.
To my defense, I fully intended on talking to him right before the game. I came to the field an hour early and I waited. When he finally arrived with the rest of the team, he walked far ahead and ignoring me fully.
After the other day, I knew it was my turn to tell him how I felt especially since I opened the door a second too late. He wasn't taking my calls and I wasn't going to confess through text. This time it was he not giving me a chance to explain myself.
Before halftime, coach already had the backup quarterback on the field and the other one benched. He didn't even attempt to put up a fight. He was practically running towards the sidelines like it was a safe zone.
He had his sights on handing Eastmoor's ass over to them. They were beating us by a mile and he didn't care. Blake was mocking him, practically doing victory dances on our own soil and he didn't care.
I was already on the sidelines trying to psych up the crowd. Oh, who was I kidding? No one was actually paying attention anymore to anything that was going on that field. People were using the phones, covering their eyes or leaving. Not even our best performance could get the crowd on their feet. Everyone knew that things were really bad when the golden boy gets pulled out of the game.
I stared at the rest of the girls who seemed just as disheartened as the rest of our school. This was our home field and we weren't even putting up a fight.
Shaking my head, I pushed past the girls in my squad and started toward our football players in red and white. As I passed her, Liz's eyes widened and she started after me.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Where does it look like I'm going?"
"You look like you're going to try to talk to Austin right now," she said. "But I'm really hoping I'm wrong because it's a really bad time."
"You always said that you were never wrong."
"He's already feeling terrible. Don't make him feel worse by yelling at him."
I raised my hands in surrender. "I'm not going to yell."
"Kody, wait!"
As soon as I got to a close enough distance, Jake and a few other players including my own friends made a human wall in front of me. They stood in a defensive stance that told me not to bother taking another step. Still, I dared.
"Just let me talk to him," I demanded, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
"He's not really in the mood," Jake glared at me.
"Do you want your captain back on the field or not?" I said. "Did you guys see Blake's face out there? It's pissing me off so much." Clay opened his mouth to say something. "And no, I'm not bitter about him cheating on me. Let me through so I can talk to him."
"It's too late," Jimmy replied. "Coach said that he isn't even going to consider letting him back on the field for the rest of the game." I tried to push past them again. "Kody, he doesn't even want to play."
"We'll see about that," I said, knowing that I've always had a manipulative streak. Plus, Austin was their star player. It must've been painful for coach to bench him.
Max and Clay gripped my shoulders but all I had to do to free myself was give them a hard stare. They backed away, understanding. No one got in between Kody Taylor and her goal unless you had a death wish.
Though it seemed that the rest of the players didn't get the memo because some still tried to block my way. "Move," I said firmly and they eventually complied because what else could they do?
At the sound of my voice, Austin, who sat on the bleachers, head in his hands and getting an earful from the coach, sat up straighter and searched for the source. He stared at me in disbelief then he looked to his coach who had just noticed me standing there as well.
"Kody Taylor, how many times do I have to tell you that you're not supposed to be here?" Coach said pulling me to the side while muttering, "I swear this kid never learns. She's been at it since the eldest was a freshman."
"Coach, just let me talk to him," I said. "You've never benched him before. If he can still play– if he wants to still play– would you put him back in?"
I thought about the last time I barged in here. It was a long time ago and it didn't happen as often as coach made it sound. Kain was a junior and he was literally the only person losing the points. I walked over here and I asked him (not so innocently), "Why are you sucking so much?" This annoyed the team because Kain started shouting and I started defending myself. Eventually, players had to pull me back to the bleachers. What probably annoyed the team more was that Kain insisted on playing on– maybe to prove something to me or to himself. Whatever the reason, he got back on the field and played the rest of the game the best of his life. They didn't win but they came pretty close.
"He's already not playing. I doubt I can make it any worse for him."
Coach grunted as he judged my intentions. "Make it quick. Work your magic." Gee, no pressure at all, coach.
"What do you want?" Austin asked gruffly when the coach and his team had given us some space. By space, I meant that they'd stood past the two-meter invisible barrier that was their idea of giving us some privacy.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
Austin scoffed. "Me? Are you really asking me that? What's wrong with you? Who do you think you are? You can't just come here and start yelling at me like nothing happened yesterday or the day before that or the entire week."
"A lot of things happened this week," I acknowledged. "You're going to let that ruin your game?" He didn't reply nor did he give any hint that he was planning to. "Austin, what's going on?"
"I don't know. My head's not in the game. I just keep seeing you on the sidelines and I just keep thinking–" he shrugged. "I guess I'm just not feeling like much of a winner today."
"That's not an excuse," I said. Not for guys like him. Guys like him kept extra packets of ego boosters for situations like this.
"What did you expect, Kody? I told you I love you and you just let me walk away."
"You left before I could say anything! Maybe I had to spend extra time thinking about what you said because I couldn't believe it. Maybe I was too scared to say anything because I'm scared to be in a relationship with someone I have feelings for– someone who makes me vulnerable. Because I am, Austin. I'm really scared." He didn't speak but he was listening. His eyes were locked on mine for a couple of silent seconds before he casted them downward again. So I continued, "I know that you didn't mean what you said at your house. You apologized and I forgive you for saying it. But you have to know that I was so hurt. I was so hurt and I was so scared of giving you that much power over me again."
"I didn't mean to hurt you."
"I know." I know that now.
"Kody." I turned to face Liz, who was pointing to her wrist at her invisible watch, signaling that half time was almost over.
"I don't want to hurt you," I said. "And I think that your sucky game is hurting you a lot." I caught a small twitch in the corner of his lip. "I want you to stop sucking out there because we're all counting on you to break Blake Richardson's face."
He actually laughed at that before shaking his head sadly. "It's too late for me. It's too late for the team. We're too far behind."
"That's not true," I said. The other team was up by three touchdowns. If we could make three touchdowns with the rest of the time left, then the game could be ours. It had been done before. I told him that.
"That's assuming defense can prevent them from making another one. The Eastmoor players aren't making it easy."
"I'm not saying you have to win," I said. "I'm saying that you should at least try." I bit my lip. "You're strong, too, you know."
"What?"
"That night on the rooftop," I reminded him. "You said that you liked that I was strong." I pressed my hand on the left side of his chest. "You're strong, too. In here." Then I moved my hand to squeeze his biceps with a shy smile. "Here, too. You don't give up. You don't let anyone get in your way, right? You're a fighter. I know that and I've always known that. Prove it to the rest of them."
"I should've fought harder for you," he said regretfully, like he thought I was making a jab at him for leaving before I could tell him that I felt the same way.
"You did," I told him, cupping the side of his cheek, urging him to look at me. He came to my house and he fought. "I'm here, aren't I? You fought and you won."
He allowed his eyes to close as he took my words in, breathed them in. I was relieved to see a contented smile sneak its way onto his face. He let out a huge breath of negativity before standing up and wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug. I didn't remember if we'd ever hugged before but it was the most satisfying thing in the world. I didn't care that he was sweaty and dirty from being tackled on the ground. He needed this. I needed this.
"Missed you."
"I missed you, too," I said honestly. "Fight one more battle for me?" I whispered, cheek against his his padding. "For your coach, your team, your school?"
He pulled away slightly and rested his sweaty forehead on mine. I didn't even care that this could give me pimples anymore. "Okay."
"Collins, we need you on the field," Coach said, disrupting our moment– our moment of Coach's stolen time with his player. "Can you play?"
"Yeah, coach," he said, not taking his eyes off me. "I can play."
"Atta, boy," he said, walking over, patting him on the back and separating us by wedging Austin's helmet between our chests. "Now, little miss miracle worker, you may go back to wherever you came from."
"Just give us a second, coach," Austin said.
The football coach rolled his eyes and muttered, "Teenagers," ruefully as he directed the rest of the boys to the field.
"Are we okay now?" Austin asked slowly.
"After that speech you gave yesterday and the one I just gave a minute ago, I'd be really worried about our relationship if we weren't."
Austin was grinning from ear to ear as he walked backward towards the field where the rest of the guys were waiting. He put on his helmet unhurriedly and he didn't turn away. He kept facing me like he was waiting for me to say something or do something grand.
He started to turn and jog away when I just waved.
It was a huge weight off my chest. Austin was back in the game, we weren't fighting anymore and everything was perfect.
Love was battlefield and the only way to win was to be on the same side. It was about time I told him that I was ready to switch to his.
"Austin," I called. I figured that now was a better time than any. Timing was off– way off– but I had to do it.
My voice was faint yet he heard me despite the roars of the crowd, despite the distance between us. "Yeah?"
"I love you, too."
Man, it killed me not being able to see his expression under his helmet. He took a step toward me and then coach yelled, "Collins! On the field now!" He looked torn between the field and me like he wasn't sure if he could leave me after that confession.
Now, I smirked, "Go kick some ass."
-
Out on the field, Austin looked like a totally different player, doing everything right and leading his team like he was supposed to. He looked at me when the team made the first touchdown of the game– made when Austin threw a stellar pass at Clay– and with a fist, he hit his chest on the side his heart was.
You're strong-hearted, he'd told me. That's one of my favorite things about you. Maybe it was his favorite just because it was a trait of his own as well, something he brought out in the toughest of games.
"You're good," Liz said, very obviously impressed.
"I know." I tried to sound smug but I felt like I was on my way up on an elevator to cloud ten.
"Did you promise him a kiss afterwards or something?"
"Something like that," I said.
Now that offense was back on point, defense started to up their game. Max was the one who intercepted the pass from the Blake to his running back and from that interception; Max sped toward the end zone, scoring us six more points. They went for a two-point conversion and then the game was at 21-16– the other team in the lead. Defense had to work for it, but with two minutes left on the clock, we got a turnover at sixty yards.
The people on their phones and hiding their faces? They were on their feet now. And I'd bet that the one's who had left would be seriously regretting their decisions tomorrow. The mass of red roared and bellowed. I found myself screaming and up on my toes.
I hadn't seen a comeback like this in such a long time.
I started chanting, riling up the rest of our school. Our battle cries sounded across the field.
Two minutes was plenty of time for two touchdowns, but the solid defense on the other team brought time down to twelve seconds while our determined offense made it all the way to the 9-yard line.
We were close. I could smell the gold. If the team could just get the ball passed the end zone, the game would be ours.
The teams got into position, crouched in front of each other like tigers ready to pounce. Austin called out plays and a player from the other team started shouting, following suit. We had four downs before the game was over.
First down, no gain.
Second down, no gain.
Now, I was squirming and covering my eyes. Was it possible to be so close and not make it? Definitely. Was that going to happen? Definitely hoped not. The prize was within arms reach. Our boys just had to reach a bit further.
Third down meant business. As practiced a hundred times, Austin had the ball in his hands and ran forward, big bodies pushing bodies, each player with his own opponent. With a little help, Austin narrowly dodged the player blocking him and ran forward with all he had. Seconds were leaving our pockets: 6, 5, 4, 3... but each second brought him closer and closer to the touchdown.
Austin made it to the 8-yard line, then the 7-yard, 6-yard, 5-yard and then all the way down to the 1-yard line.
Then he went down– brought down by two of Blake's stupid goons rougher and more personal than necessary.
It started with two, one grabbing his left and the other slamming onto his right. Then two more piled up on him, burying number 17 under four 200-pound guys.
Going down was a necessary part of the game though. Football players didn't deserve that title without being tackled to the ground at least once in their lives. Most of the guys on the field had grown up kissing the ground they played on. Since day one, they'd been trained to stand up and brush it off like it had never happened. If they were cocky and conceited like my brothers, Blake and Austin, they would stand up, brush it off, give their offender the Alpha stare down and then throw some trash talking at their faces (of course only if they were provoked).
Anyone with eyes could see that the Eastmoor boys were provoking.
But Austin didn't get up– at least not right away.
From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of drastic movement. I turned to see half of the people on the stands rise to their feet to try to get a better look. Whispers of dismay broke out. The captain was down.
"Austin!" I cried and Liz grabbed my arm to keep me from overstepping my boundaries.
This wasn't the first time a quarterback had ever taken a fall. It was just unlikely to see Austin, with an ego as big as his, lying helplessly on the ground like he couldn't get up. Maybe he had hit his head and gotten light-headed for a while because there were a couple pregnant seconds before he attempted to sit up. When he did get up, Jake and Clay had to help him, cautiously avoiding the side that he landed on. Fortunately, he landed on his left and not dominant side where his throwing arm was.
Unfortunately, he cradled his left arm and winced when Jake grabbed it to pull him up, giving away that something was wrong.
"Don't worry about it," Liz squeezed my upper arm, looking sincerely concerned. But, "Austin's a big boy. He can take a few bumps and bruises."
I gestured at the snickering players in green jerseys. "They can't let them get away with that!"
"So what's your plan?" she asked. "You walk up there and challenge Eastmoor to a screaming match? I don't think so. You're going to stay right here and you're going to calm yourself down."
Coach called a timeout. With a weary expression, he called his offense to the sidelines. The guys surrounded Austin as they walked over to the side. Somewhere in between all the havoc, his eyes found mine.
They looked like they were arguing. Coach insisted but Austin didn't waned to be benched though he had absolutely no problem sitting the game out a just a while ago. As I read his lips speak "I can still play," his eyes bore into mine, telling me that he wasn't backing down. When he said, "I can still play," again, he glared daggers at Blake who was mocking him, taunting him, waiting for him to snap.
A moment later, Austin was back on the field, chin up high with a think façade of painlessness. Northwood cheered and hooted. "What's he doing?" I whispered. "He shouldn't be playing if he's injured. Does he think he's invincible? Someone should check his arm."
"If he isn't bawling, then he's fine," Ashley said, patting my arm unreassuringly.
Ignoring Ashley, Liz's smile was knowing and sure. "He's doing what you told him to do," she answered. "He's fighting."
But she was wrong this time. It wasn't because I told him to but because Austin was a natural born fighter. It was in Austin Collins' nature to never go down without a fight in any aspect of life. I would know.
Someone had to run through the defense. With the way that defense was playing tonight, injured Austin would never make it, even if it was just one-yard.
Last two seconds on the clock and on the one yard line, this play was the biggest, most intense, most defining play of the season but my heart broke, knowing that Austin, the worked-his-whole-life-to-become-Northwood's-golden boy couldn't be a part of it. It was the moments like these when the quarterback was supposed to be important.
When the offense got back into position, I was biting my nails.
Two seconds. The ball was snapped to Austin, who made a handover to Clay. Clay dove forward, both arms tucked securely to his chest.
The clocked ticked dreadfully; each red number on the board had people screaming and everything moving in slow motion as they changed.
One second. He rammed through two big guys in the middle but they wouldn't budge.
Zero. It was Liz's turn to gasp as he went down on his stomach. Clay was tackled to the ground almost easily. This time wasn't as rough as the last down but he was still on the ground defeated.
So close to the finish line, the game couldn't be over yet.
I blew out a big breath and turned to look at number 17, who had moved out of the way, onto the sidelines to avoid the rough play. His shoulders were hunched, tired and hurt, cradling his arm gingerly as he walked to the side.
Clay was still down, buried under a pile.
My eyes went back to Austin who was now looking toward me. Focusing on his arm, I found what he was really cradling in his arms. Northwood had out played them all.
And I swear I saw Austin's signature smirk through his helmet. Suddenly, everything moved into place.
"What's going on?" Liz asked. I was speechless.
"Kody, does Austin have the–?"Ashley began.
"Oh, my God."
Some of them must've realized this because attention shifted from the tackled running back to the quarterback. But by the time the trick play was revealed, the whistle blew and Austin was on the other side of the end zone.
22-21.