by Autumn Avery
The New Year's game was coming soon. I usually didn't care one bit about a football game, but this was one I knew I had to go to. I had to see Trevor, even if it was only on the field and obscured by ten pounds of pads.
"Now, there's all that, but there's still the fact you look kinda sick, sweetie."
I yawned. It was a legitimate yawn. Maybe it was everything depressing me. "Yeah, I've been super lethargic the past week or so."
"It takes a lot to get used to a new job."
"Um, yeah, it's totally that, Mom." Another fake smile. I stood up, gave her another hug. "I think I'll go try to sleep through the Christmas music. Maybe for an hour or two."
"You do what you need to take care of yourself."
"Thanks, Mom. Love you."
"Love you too, sweetie."
I headed up the stairs to my teenage bed. I really was tired. I knew that I'd be asleep soon enough.
All my dreams would be about Trevor.
28
Trevor
Trevor
* * *
To be completely honest, I wasn't a huge fan of turkey.
So I didn't take the Christmas chicken as a huge insult against tradition.
"You eating right, dear?" My Mom shakily sat down across from me. "You don't look like you're eating right."
My mom's place was the same small place we'd been living in for years. The rent had steadily increased, but it was still relatively cheap, and there weren't rats and bugs everywhere so that was always a big perk. She could keep the heat rolling, and it was still cozy to me. Sure, it wasn't a fabulous mansion, but it was something better.
Home.
"Really, Mom, I assure you, I'm eating fine. The school makes sure I get extra if I want it." This was true. Most students got a meal card to spend with. With my scholarship, the school gave me one with more money for food than I ever really needed. I ended up using it a lot of it to pay for food for my girlfriend of the day.
Back when I had a girlfriend of the day, anyway.
It was another perk I got because I played football good. More and more, I was seeing the little privileges I got from my status.
Yet I wasn't going to not use it. Not if it let me have Stephanie.
"Is the chicken good?"
"Yes, Mom. It's delicious. You really do make the best fried chicken."
"Thank you, dear."
We were doing Christmas alone. Our family was too far out of state to go visit, so we kept it local. I had enough spending money to get the chicken and some other cheap stuff, but I didn't want her to spend it alone.
I hoped, I dreamed that this would be the last one alone.
"How about school? You doing well in school?"
"I got an A on my finals and midterm last week."
"Wait, your finals and your midterm? Shouldn't you have taken your midterm a few months ago?"
I laughed. "No, it was a thing, Mom. I had to make up for it. I sort of slacked off. Focused too much on... um... football." Football didn't divert enough of my attention. It was more of frat parties and an endless train of girls. I didn't need to break her heart with that sort of fact, so a driving, overly dedicated nature to football was it. Yep. Up all night playing football until four in the morning, crashing, getting up to play actual football for two hours, then going home to sleep because I was too tired for school.
All football. At least that's the only thing I would tell her.
"You need your education. Don't you want to be a writer?"
"Mom, I'm going to the big leagues. It's almost a given."
"You shouldn't aim too high. You can't expect all that. It's foolish and prideful."
Life had beaten her down. Her own dreams dashed. My so-called father bolting on her when she got pregnant. I could see why she was pessimistic. "Mom, I'm not being prideful. I'm good. I know I'm good. My coach knows I'm good. My team know I'm good. Our undefeated record? Pretty strong proof we're good. All those sports media shows? Talking about how good I am. I'm going to be playing at the New Year's game, and only the best of the best college players get to play there."
"I hope you’re right, dear, I want the absolute best for you. I just don't want you to get hurt if things don't turn out right."
"They will, Mom. I'm determined to make sure of it."
I was back in the New Year's game, and that was phase one complete. I was going to play harder than I ever played before, and I was going to make that scout pay attention. I wanted them to be clawing to draft me early on, if not first, and offering me big fat juicy contracts. A first round draft pick was guaranteed to make me a millionaire.
Really, I knew that it was pie in the sky. A lot of new football players overspend. I knew I wasn't immortal. One injury could end all of it. I was going to be wise with that money. Hire people to smarten me up.
A bell went off. "Oh, that's the pie. I need to get it out of the oven." My mother struggled to push herself up.
"No, Mom, I'll get it. I can handle getting a pie out of the oven." I beat her to the kitchen, putting on an oven mitt.
"You sure? I'm not sure I trust your cooking ability..."
"I'm getting a pie out of an oven, how is that cooking?" I pulled the pie out, and set it on the counter. The smell of sweet apples filled the room. "There. Nothing is on fire."
"You sure? Maybe I should get the fire extinguisher ready just in case."
She was smiling. I liked that, even if it was at my expense. "I'm sure if everything erupts in flames, I can save you, Ma."
"I know you can. You big strong ox, you."
Success was what I had to do. For her. For Stephanie. For everyone.
Money was tight for now. I scrounged enough up for the chicken, potatoes, a box of stuffing, some spices, and a pie. I also scrounged up enough to polish something of my mothers. I had a good reason to spring for the good silver polish instead of just dumping it in vinegar. I wanted the damn thing sparkling.
"I'm going to surpass your expectations," I began, digging a knife out of the drawer, "I'm going to cut the pie into slices too. Yeah, Mom, I'm doing it."
"You? With a knife? Should I go in the other room? Just in case it springs free and flies through the air?"
"I can hold a knife. I'll prove it to you." I gestured toward her with it.
"First rule of knife etiquette, son, is you don't point it at people."
I quickly corrected myself. "Um, er, sorry."
"Second rule is don't hurt yourself, please, Trevor. I don't feel like going to the emergency room."
I then cut the pie quickly. "There. It's cut. Into eight pieces. Except one is really kinda fat, and the other is really skinny, and..."
"You didn't injure anyone. Celebrate your victory. I think I'm only up for a thin slice."
I chuckled, and drew out her little piece on a paper plate and brought it to her. This woman deserved more than this.
A piece for myself too. It was going to be my last bit of sweets. It was crunch time, and that meant I couldn't indulge in pie and potato chips. I was back on the field for the game, and I was going to get in the best shape of my life.
One hundred percent muscle. I wanted my abs to have abs.
I needed to be at the absolute peak of performance.
For my future. For my mother. For Stephanie.
29
Stephanie
Stephanie
* * *
You know what's incredibly annoying?
Learning that you could have gotten free tickets to a football game, because faculty gets comped for showing school spirit.
Since I was suspended though? I had to pay full price.
Full price was high. Way, way too high. Two hundred dollars for the bleachers? This was highway robbery!
If people are willing to pay it though, people will charge it. Since I was being surrounded by people painting themselves green, I knew that my interest in this game as atypical to most people's.
Not being there wasn't an option, t
hough. This was the most important game Trevor was going to have in his life – or at least so far. I knew he had big dreams, but to get to the world championship games, you have to get signed first, and this was where the road to that started.
I managed to cough up the pile of money and make my way to my seat. It was like watching ants from up here. It was an incredibly cold day, with a light frosting of snow covering the ground. It wasn't too slippery, so it really shouldn't have much impact, but I had to say, it was pretty. Snow was pretty until you break your neck on ice.
Today I was fully decked out in my incognito garb. Trench coat, sweatshirt, sunglasses, baseball cap, with the new addition of a scarf. In addition to making me not obvious to see, it had the added benefit of keeping me really quite warm.
All I had to worry about was someone looking at me and thinking I was a terrorist or something. Looking in the mirror before I left, I looked like a lady Unabomber.
The national anthem filled the arena, then there was pop song following it up. There were cameras everywhere, everyone across America was going to be paying attention to this game.
The teams soon filed out on the field, and the coin flip was made.
I was hunting for Trevor, and soon, I found him. Lucky number thirteen, Trevor Richards.
As I suspected, I couldn't actually see much of him, but that didn't make my imagination any less vivid about him. I knew what was underneath all those pads and it was good.
I wish I knew more about football, all things considered. The players were dashing down and up the field, Trevor frequently getting the ball and blitzing past everyone. People tried to take him down, but he was fast.
When the other team got the ball? He barreled through them. He really was the Train in more ways than one.
I knew there were plays. Where they would set up tactics to get someone the ball. More often than not, it was Trevor.
Soon enough, half-time came. AU was leading their opponents by five points, 26 to 21.
It was a lead, yes, but given the touchdown things being worth six points... then seven points... and then it was eight points? I really didn't fully understand the game, but the point was, it wasn't a super safe and secure lead.
I knew it was called football at least, so I had that over Professor Hatch.
I cheered for Trevor. Calling out. I got weird looks randomly from the people near me. I wondered if they were simply looking at me like I was crazy, or if they were just die-hard fans of the opposing team. Given one of them was painted red, the color of the opposite team, Franklin, it was likely the latter.
The former likely didn't help things.
Trevor slung off his helmet, and I catcalled him. Somehow, someway, hoping that he would notice me in the crowd of thousands.
He did.
He didn't wave. He didn't draw attention. He knew it was still a risk. But he smiled my way. There was so much in that smile that it really wasn't funny. Acknowledgment, longing, desire. I felt the strangest desire to run toward him, but I knew that would do no good. So I just smiled back. Then I lowered my scarf so he could see the smile.
Another ludicrous musical number, this time from the school’s marching bands. I couldn't have cared less. It was all putting off the return of Trevor to the field.
"Train, Train! Er, Trevor! I mean, Richards!" What was I supposed to cheer him as? Was it rude to cheer for a specific player instead of just the team in general?
Screw it. Despite hostile surroundings, I continued my raucous cheering. How was I supposed to know this was the Franklin team section?
The football game resumed soon enough.
AU had the ball first. They were planning something. Their huddle broke and they lined up, the other team mimicking them. The whistle blew and they were off. Trevor got the ball and started to run full steam down the field.
Only to be crushed by two, no, three of the other team. It was almost a dogpile situation. Bodies on top of bodies.
The whistle blew again and they relented. Everyone on top of Trevor got off. He wasn't moving too quickly. The ref checked on him, but then he twitched and stirred. Pushing himself up, he took the helmet off, shaking his head of it. He ran down to his sideline, grabbed some water, and dunked it over his head. He shot me another look, this one just to let me know that he was okay. This glance, though, told me he was still determined. It would take a dozen men to take him down for good.
The play got rougher following that. Players running up and down the field, gunning for Trevor, but AU was onto their tactics, and was guarding Trevor pretty well.
The end of the fourth quarter was coming. The Franklin team was catching up, and surpassing AU. Their aggression and acting against Trevor was hamstringing them.
Grimacing, I looked at the score. 52-45, Franklin. One minute was left on the clock.
They were near AU's goal. They were on the brink of a score, but I was unsure if this play would give them one of those six-point or eight-point or whatever touchdowns.
A shout, the play began. Trevor looked to be the focus again. Franklin's team all rushed toward him, but before they could reach him, he flung the ball to his teammate. They were already lunging, but the pass was completed, and his teammate barreled straight into the end-zone.
The score shifted. 52-51. Twenty seconds left on the clock. Just six? How did they get other points then?
Again, the teams lined up.
I was getting annoyed at my ignorance. So I dared to ask a question to a stranger near me. The ones who were cheering for the opposite team.
"Excuse me, sir?" I tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hmm?"
"Why are the touchdowns worth only six points sometimes and seven or eight other times?"
He looked at me like I was stupid.
"I'm sorry, I'm just here to... um... uh...support my..." What was he to me? Did such minor details matter anymore? "My boyfriend."
He stared at me a little longer and then shook his head. "All right. That makes sense. When a team scores a touchdown, they can either kick it through the goalposts for one point, or try to basically do another touchdown against the other team's defense for two."
"I'm following." That explained a lot that I was seeing.
"Those AU assholes can either field goal it to tie it up, or do the touchdown thing for the win. This is all called the conversion. Or a try."
"Thank you." I nodded. "Um, no hard feelings if your team doesn't win?"
"We ain't the ones playing, I never got the point of starting a brawl over this shit."
So a conversion. Trevor and his teammates were huddled again. They were lining up. They were going for the win.
The Franklin team was prepared to defend. Everything was coming down to this play. I crossed my fingers for Trevor's team, somehow hoping it would help them win.
Soon, the huddle broke. They rushed. They threw Trevor the ball. He was going for it. The defense rushed toward him, and Trevor quickly threw it over their heads, only for a teammate to catch it. The defense swapped and started for the other guy, but the other guy threw the ball right back to Trevor.
It wasn't a long trip, and the defense had already burned a lot of effort bouncing between them. They were sprinting though, victory on the line.
They dove for Trevor, Trevor jumped. He spiraled over them and planted himself face-down onto the field.
A siren went off. The crowd erupted. The Score shifted to 53-52, with two seconds on the clock. The game was won.
Franklin's players moved away, taking off their helmets and revealing an expression on their faces where it would be a rare time I would use the term crestfallen to describe someone.
AU, though? Celebrating. The cooler was tipped over and poured all over the coach, but I was paying more attention to the fact that Trevor was being carried around on his teammate's shoulders with wild cheers.
The big fancy screen on the scoreboard showed a replay of the game's final play, then sparked up with
* * *
Most Valuable Player:
Trevor Richards
Aaronsville University
* * *
He'd done it. He had sure as hell succeeded in getting all of the eyes on him.
30
Trevor
Trevor
* * *
My heart was pounding, and I damn near felt like I was going to have a heart attack.
That wouldn't be the worst thing I felt. I was sore, aching, my muscles begging me to stop.
I wouldn't, though. Not until the game was won, and when it was, well, I still had work to do.
She was there. I really wasn't sure Stephanie would show. She didn't even know I was cleared to play.
I was already going to work my ass off, but seeing that she was there, well, it gave me a kick in the ass that I arguably didn't need. It turned a damn certain thing into an absolute guaranteed.
They were carrying me around the field. The crowd was cheering.
Stephanie was cheering. Stephanie was cheering her sexy little ass off, even if she was wearing that ridiculous outfit she thought was incognito again.
Fuck, the entire arena could have been empty besides her and I'd still be getting the adrenaline rush of a lifetime.
Soon enough, my team let me down near the cameras.
"Trevor Richards!" The newsman called out. I guess he was with some local outfit, business suit, coiffed hair, all that fun. "You're AU's most valuable player. How you feeling?"
"Pretty great, all things considered."
"Now your story has been a curious one these last few weeks. Rumors were shuffling that you wouldn't even make this game."
"Well, um..." I leaned in and whispered in his ear. "Sorry, who are you? I don't watch the local news."
"Blake McDonald," He whispered back. Apparently this was a common thing.
"Well, Blake," I said, much more audibly. "I'd fallen behind on my studies, but I had to work hard to make sure my grades were up to par. Isn't the primary reason we're in college to prepare ourselves for our careers?"