Playing at Love

by Ophelia London

  “When?” Tess asked.

  “When,” Penny confirmed.

  Tess saw that eye-of-the-tiger expression on Penny’s face, just like that first night when she’d killed it on the football field. After a nod, Tess broke into a grin. “Woo-hoo!” she cheered.

  “Woo-hoooooo!” Penny echoed.

  “When!”

  “When!!!”

  “When we win! When we win!” the two chanted, Tess punching the steering wheel in time while Penny stomped her feet. “When we win!”

  After meeting her team at their designated spot, Tess left them to wander around. She couldn’t help hearing a few whispers as she passed certain groups. Yes, evidently the news from Rick’s revealing story had traveled far and Franklin High was the gossip of the competition. This could be good for us, Tess considered. If there were the right kind of buzz, the judges would be looking forward to seeing what they would do. They already had momentum without singing one note.

  Tess grinned as an unexpected wave of optimism washed over her.

  Franklin sailed through the first round. After a slight miscommunication, they almost missed their slot in round two. But they hit the stage just in time, complete with sequined bow ties and jazz hands.

  The semifinals were the real test. It was the first that truly showcased Penny. In their earlier pieces, she had only been spotlighted, having a few more solos than the others. But for their next piece, the choir was the steady background to Penny’s a cappella solo. Choosing to cover the Beatles wasn’t particularly risky, but the Beatles song Tess had chosen? Well, that was where the risk was.

  And it completely paid off.

  All six judges were on their feet at the end of “Roll Over Beethoven.” One of the bass singers grabbed Penny, dipped her, and planted a huge kiss on her in front of everyone. Tess laughed and whooped along with the rest of the audience while silently making a note to discuss that with Penny later.

  “Your kids are doing so well,” Tess’s mother said as they stood just outside one of the back doors. Tess had needed fresh air while the stage was being reset for the championship round. “Every time they sing, I just want to cry.”

  “I feel a first place coming,” Dad added.

  Tess couldn’t help grinning, though too superstitious to say she agreed. “I thought Charlie was coming,” she said instead.

  “He was here,” Mom answered, turning up the collar of her jacket. “But he left about twenty minutes ago, right after your choir was on. He made me promise to record it on my phone, but I’m not sure how this darn thing—”

  “Why did he leave?” Tess asked. When her mother didn’t answer, she touched her arm. “Is anything wrong?”

  “Looks like rain is heading this way,” Mom said, looking up at the sky, ignoring Tess’s question.

  Tess lifted her chin and saw the black clouds coming in from the south. “Mom,” she repeated, “why did Charlie leave?”

  “Well, honey,” she said after a few moments, “he wanted to, um, be at the game.”

  Tess stared at her. “You’re serious? He left my competition—the most important of my career—to go to a football game? Dad?”

  Her father shrugged. “You know your brother used to play for Franklin when he was in high school. And it’s homecoming.”

  “So what?”

  “I don’t understand it, either,” her mother chimed in. “But that’s where he is. He said he was sorry and that he’ll make it up to you.”

  Tess shook her head. “Well, he’s dead meat. So typical,” she muttered, mostly to herself, staring at the sky as the clouds rolled in. “He’s re-upping and leaving me here with—” She cut herself off, suddenly realizing what she’d been about to say.

  “Tess, sweetie,” her father said. “Your mother and I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Not tonight,” Mom said, poking her dad in the ribs. “You’ll make her worry.”

  “What is it?” Tess said. “You have to tell me now, or I’ll think the worst.”

  “See, she’s upset. We’ll talk about it later.”

  “Dad,” Tess said, starting to panic. “Please.”

  Her father nodded. “Well, we know how hard you and your brother have been working to help out with the house. We appreciate everything—we always have.” He touched Tess’s cheek.

  “It’s no big deal,” Tess replied. “It’s what children are supposed to do for their parents.”

  Her mother laughed quietly. “I think you’ve gone above and beyond.” She paused thoughtfully, then shot her husband a look. “We wanted to tell you when we were all together, but your father and I have been thinking about moving.”

  “What?” Tess gasped. “Since when?”

  “Well, we’ve always wanted to retire somewhere exotic. You know, like St. Petersburg or…Muncie.”

  “Very exotic.” Tess laughed.

  “We discussed it, and it’s going to be hard—”

  “And sad,” Mom added.

  “Yes, and sad,” Dad confirmed. “But we want to sell the house.”

  Tess grabbed her mother’s hand and stared at her father. “Oh, don’t, please. I’m sorry I said anything.”

  “We’ve been talking about it for years. And a few weeks ago…” He looked at his wife. “We checked out a little retirement spot near the lake.”

  Tess stared at them. “So you’re…you’re selling the house?”

  “If it’s okay with you,” her mom said.

  “The house I grew up in?”

  Her father chuckled. “You mean that money pit that we can unload at a profit and still have enough to repay you?”

  “I can’t believe—”

  “It’s a good thing, Tess,” her mom said, putting an arm around her. “It was a difficult decision, but it’s the right one. And we’re happy about it. But we’ll only do it if you’re on board, too. We know how much the house means to you.”

  Tess thought for a moment and realized that it wasn’t the bricks and front hedges she would miss, it was the memories. But they weren’t tied to a location; they were in her heart and with her family. And seeing the way her parents were grinning at each other, like they were about to start a whole new adventure together, well, Tess couldn’t be anything but thrilled about that.

  “Hmm,” she said with a genuine smile, “a house by the lake, you say?”

  “Right on the water,” Dad confirmed with a twinkle in his eyes. “I might start fishing again.”

  “Well, in that case!”

  But that was all Tess had time to get out. One of the FHS parent chaperones was tapping on the glass door—Tess was needed inside. The finals of the Regional competition were about to start. She gave both of her parents one last hug before returning to her group.

  Even though pretty much the whole Midwestern show choir community was up to speed with the budget situation Franklin was facing, Tess didn’t think the judges would take that into consideration when they made their final decisions. And that was the way it should be. Even if that meant the end of the program.

  “When we win,” Penny whispered to Tess then winked, right as the choir was about to take the stage. Tess was awestruck by her poise and wondered if Penny was nervous at all. If anyone was deserving of the scholarship Rick Duffy was offering, it was her.

  Just before the curtains opened, Penny turned around from her place at the front and opened her arms, giving the entire choir a silent group hug. Tess felt tears behind her eyes, realizing—not for the first time—how incredibly special this group of kids was.

  And then the curtains opened. Do-or-die time.

  Tess could not have asked her team for a better showing. Not only was everyone on and the energy high, but there was something else: that X factor people talk about but can never really describe, something special that only happens once in a lifetime, if you’re lucky. Perfection.

  She had no doubt that Franklin had first place in the bag…

  …Right up until Walnut
High School, the very last performance of the night. About twenty seconds into their piece, Tess grabbed a program and flipped to the information page for that school. Her jaw dropped open as she read all the accomplishments of their choir director, a Juilliard alum who still taught there during the summer. Her heart plummeted further as she looked up and stared at the choir taking complete control of that stage.

  “Do-or-die,” she whispered, closing her eyes and wringing the program between her hands.

  Twenty minutes later, the whole auditorium was on their feet as the final awards were about to be announced. With one arm around Mac and one around Penny, Tess was giving the guise of supportive fearless leader, but really, she needed them to help her stay upright. It all came down to this. Either they got first prize or the program was lost.

  “You did so great,” Tess whispered into Penny’s ear as they bounced up and down in anticipation.

  “It’s us,” Penny said over the noise of the crowd, looking up at Tess.

  Tess could only smile, hoping she was right.

  When the MC stood behind the lectern, Tess’s stomach muscles tightened. “Third place…goes to…”

  Tess closed her eyes, praying inside her head.

  “Pleasant Valley High!”

  Tess breathed out in relief then cheered with the rest of the crowd.

  “Second place,” the MC went on, after adjusting his glasses, “goes to…”

  Tess stared at his face, trying to anticipate the shape his mouth was about to take. It looked like it was forming into an O. That was good—the name of her school didn’t begin with the letter O. But when his top teeth touched the outside of his bottom lip, Tess knew, down to her toes, what he was about to say.

  Her heart sank, and she knew it was over.

  At an event the size of Regionals, there was absolutely no disgrace in coming in second place. Tess had never been an extreme competitor, but still, it was a devastation she would not be able to truly comprehend until she was alone in her car on the way back to Franklin.

  She wrapped her arms around Penny, offering wholehearted congratulations as the audience cheered and clapped around them.

  “I’m sorry,” Penny said, her bottom lip trembling.

  “Sorry, Jo,” a teary-eyed alto said. And suddenly, Tess was surrounded by her choir, each offering an apology. Most of the girls were in tears.

  “No!” Tess said, barely holding back her own sobs. “Don’t ever say that. I’m so damn proud of you guys. You have no idea!”

  “But we lost,” a spiky-haired tenor said, pulling loose his red bow tie. “That means the choir won’t…”

  A few of the girls started sobbing and hugging each other. Tess felt her own tears rolling down her cheeks. “It’s okay,” she said, offering hugs. “You guys did so great, better than I ever dreamed.” She put an arm around the closest two. “Yes, it totally sucks that we might lose the choir, but remember what you learned here and what we did during every class. Love music, live music…make it part of your world every day. Do that and you can’t help but be happy.”

  After her words seemed to sink in, Tess saw nods and murmurs of accord around the group. Over the years, she’d tried to instill in her students kindness and compassion, and she felt even prouder as her team applauded for Walnut High when that school took the stage as regional champions.

  “Well,” Penny said, still clapping, “at least we can still keep singing, even without the school. But the football team, they kind of need it.”

  Again, Tess felt in awe of her student—who had just taught Tess a very valuable lesson, without even knowing it. Tess smiled and put an arm around Penny. “You’re so very wise,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

  Tess looked past Penny at Mac, who had little tears in the corners of her eyes.

  After all the hugs and high-fives and handshakes, Tess felt exhausted and was ready to head home and straight into a bubble bath. She spotted her parents at the back of the room and waved to them, gesturing that she would see them later.

  “So,” Mac said, sliding an arm around her shoulders, “now all we have to do is wait.”

  “Wait for what?” Tess asked, gathering up her things.

  Mac eyed her. “I assumed you’d be aware of a little football game going on at this very moment.” She lifted her eyebrows. “A game that you personally have a lot riding on.”

  “I’m sure it’s over by now,” Tess said, checking her watch.

  “They had a weather delay,” Mac said. “Lightning. Haven’t you heard the thunder for the past two hours?” She displayed her cell phone. “I have, uh…” She cleared her throat. “A contact at the game who’s been sending me texts.”

  “Rick?”

  Mac shrugged coyly.

  “Are you ever going to tell me what went on between you two?” Tess shoved her shoulder. “I can’t believe I wasn’t kept up to speed.”

  Mac arched an eyebrow. “Do you tell me everything?” she asked.

  Tess thought for a moment, and then shut her mouth.

  After waving a hand in the air, Mac said, “You know I’ll tell you all about that later, and you’ll tell me, right?”

  “Tell you what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Mac straightened her glasses. “Maybe you’ll tell me why you freaked out on Jack all because you got scared.” She lifted a hand to stop Tess from butting in. “And because of something that happened years ago. Honey, Jack is not Sam, he’s not Ben or any of those other morons who didn’t know what an amazing thing they had when they were with you. He’s different. You know that.”

  Tess’s mind was spinning at a million miles an hour.

  “But we don’t have time to get into that now,” Mac said. “At last word, Franklin was down by six at the end of the second quarter.”

  Tess blinked, waking up. “You mean the game is still going on?”

  “You better leave now if you want to be there at the end.”

  Tess bit her lip, gazing toward her choir in the corner, chatting and getting ready to celebrate. “I can’t; I have to stay with my team.”

  “No, you don’t,” Mac said, handing Tess her bag. “I’ll stay and there’re twenty parents here. It’ll be fine. You need to get to that game. Now.”

  Tess thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, I do,” she said, looking straight ahead. “I need to be there to witness firsthand what my fate will be. The fate of all of us.”

  “So stop gabbing and go!” Mac said, shoving her shoulder.

  Tess didn’t turn back once as she ran in her heels toward the exit.

  It was still pouring down rain but the lightning had stopped by the time Tess pulled onto the gravel parking lot. She saw the stadium lights and could hear the announcer and the roar of the crowd as she climbed out of her car. From that, she knew the game was back in play.

  She grabbed an emergency Windbreaker from the trunk and hopped over puddles, dashing toward the stadium.

  …

  “Williams! Pro-right, twenty-eight shuffle!”

  Jack was sure to make direct eye contact with his quarterback before motioning him back to the huddle with the new play. The rain was making communication difficult. And with the score tied and only a little more than a minute left, emotions were running high.

  When his quarterback didn’t move from the side of the field, Jack waved a hand in front of his face. “Hey! Did you hear me? Take out the play.”

  “Not shuffle, Coach!” the kid called out to him.

  “Yeah!” Jack called back. “Get out there!” He clapped his hands and looked out at the field. But the kid still didn’t move. “What is it?”

  “I know I can throw the touchdown,” Williams said, nodding toward the end zone. “Dylan’s been open all night.”

  “No. Nothing long. We only need to make five yards here. Get us the first down, then we’ll run a shorter pass next. It’s shuffle. Now, get out there and do your job.”

  “But Coach—”

 
; Jack lifted a hand to cut him off then waved him closer. “Do we have a problem, Mr. Williams?” Jack asked, looking him in the eyes again. Heavy rain was splattering off the top of the kid’s helmet. “You either follow my orders or you take a seat. Do you understand?”

  Williams drew back then nodded. “Got it, Coach,” he grumbled, after sliding back in his mouth guard.

  “All right, then.” Jack hit the back of his helmet. “Get on out there.”

  When he saw Williams set the lineup to run the wrong play, despite Jack’s implicit order only ten second ago, Jack swore under his breath. But the play worked—not for a touchdown but to make it to the five-yard line.

  Jack was not happy. “Time! Time!” he called, waving his arms over his head.

  The officials signaled the time-out—Franklin’s last, Jack feared—and stopped the clock with just over a minute left in the game.

  Jack stood with his hands on his hips, feeling cold rain running down the back of his neck, as his quarterback trotted toward the sidelines, fist-bumping teammates along the way. As he approached, Jack could see the white teeth of his grin. The kid was actually proud of himself; he’d blatantly disregarded a direct call from his coach and then had the nerve to swagger.

  “Williams!” He grabbed the front of his jersey. “What the hell was that? That was not the play I gave you.”

  “I told you I could go long,” Williams said, still smiling. “Now we’ve got three downs to put it in.” He shrugged. “And we win!”

  Jack dropped his hand and stepped back. Every bone in his body was telling him to bench the arrogant kid—pronto—and probably make him stay out for the next game, too. If there was a next game. That would be the right thing to do, from a coaching standpoint. And from an ethical standpoint. If he allowed Williams to get away with calling his own plays in the huddle now, Jack might lose the discipline of the entire team, not to mention having to deal with the ego of that kid.

  There was a lesson to be taught here. But was now the right time, when they were seconds away from the win they desperately needed?

  For a moment, Jack stared up at the scoreboard, different scenarios and different outcomes running through his mind at lightning speed. He wiped a wet hand over his mouth then made his decision.