A nearby classroom door opened, and a kid with a hall pass smiled at Tanya. “Hey, Miss Martin.”
“Afternoon, Brian.”
Then Brian saw Cam. “Holy sh … oot!” He caught himself when he remembered Tanya, and then he looked back at the classroom like he wanted to shout out exactly who he’d just stumbled onto. “Are you … ? No way.”
Cam laughed. “I am. Is that still Mr. Ryan’s government class?”
Brian nodded. “Yeah, we’re talking about the Civil War.”
“Does he still use the wooden pointer on the pull down map?”
The kid clapped his hands together. “Yes!” Then he grabbed his head and gave it a little shake. “This is so cool. Miss Martin, do you know who this is?”
She smiled. “I do.” It was hard not to be a little impressed when the kid was so star struck. Brian was one of her at-risk students, and he ran with a tough crowd.
Cam took a few steps toward the classroom and then looked back at her. “Do you think Mr. Ryan would mind if I stuck my head in and said ‘hey’?”
“Of course not. Brian, how ’bout you take Mr. Simmons in and introduce him to the class.”
“Oh, man! You gotta be kidding me.”
There was something amazing about seeing a tough-talking high school sophomore reduced to skipping.
Tanya stood in the doorway as Cam shocked Mr. Ryan and his class. Within five minutes of stepping into the room, Cam was manning the wooden pointer while Mr. Ryan slouched in Cam’s old seat in an epic role reversal.
He moved on to answer questions from the class—everything from what his grades had been like when he was at East to what kind of car he drove. When he said “mostly Bs,” she rolled her eyes, and when he said, “a tricked out Range,” she mouthed, “figures.”
She’d never heard so much laughter come from a history class.
When they finally made it back into the hall, her face hurt from smiling, and a little bit of the anger she’d been harboring had released. It had always been easy to have fun with him.
“That was awesome,” Cam said. “God, I had no idea how much I missed this place.”
Was it anywhere near as much as she’d missed him? Which was something she didn’t want to admit. But with him laughing beside her, she couldn’t pretend his absence hadn’t hurt like hell those first few years. Eventually she’d gotten over it, and now she recognized the dependency for the close call it had been. It was a good lesson, one that taught her to ruthlessly protect her heart from the kinds of emotional strings that strangled people. Her roommate Jillian didn’t call her Queen of the One-night Stand for nothing.
“Now where?” he asked.
Considering where her mind had been, she wanted to return to her office without him, but ... “You promised me rapping in Senora’s class.”
“I did!”
Senora just about swallowed her false teeth when “double trouble” as she’d dubbed them junior year walked into her classroom. The minute the pudgy woman regained her composure, she tipped on her toes and hugged him. So cute.
Just like before in Mr. Ryan’s room, the kids’ response to seeing Cam was off the charts. They asked him questions in rapid-fire progression, and he answered everyone with enthusiasm—even the ones he’d already answered for Mr. Ryan’s class.
By the time they took their old seats in the back of the room to serenade Senora, the students were on their feet.
Tanya raised her hands over her mouth and sputtered a basic beat to hoots and hollers all around.
“Miss Martin! Miss Martin!” The kids chanted.
Cam broke in with the rap they’d made up while they should’ve been learning Spanish, and Senora started dancing.
They left the classroom laughing.
Somewhere in the back of her head, Tanya heard a little voice spout a warning. Protect yourself. In a month, he would be leaving again. This was not something she wanted to get mixed up with. Friendly but guarded was the only way to proceed.
When the bell rang, she smiled at him. “Duty calls. I’ll see you around.”
“Wait! Can’t I come say ‘hey’ to your class? You know how much I loved gym.”
The hallway started filling up, and his admirers swarmed. The way he actually looked as excited to see them as they were to see him made her smile.
What would spending one more class period with him hurt? “I’ll be in the North Gym.”
She backed away, watching him sign binders and book covers, sweatshirts and sneakers. He was the biggest attraction South City had ever seen. Hell, he was even bigger than that. Nationwide. Cam Simmons was the man to football fans.
A light bulb flashed in her head. If she could figure out a way to capitalize on that, she’d have the thirty grand to save her dad’s gym.
• • •
A whistle blew and Cam’s muscles twitched. Down, boys. Not for you.
This wasn’t his practice. This was P.E. class with ten kids running something called “the shuttle” and eight more on the bleachers because they’d either forgotten their gym clothes or presented a doctor’s excuse. Who bailed on gym? Never him.
Tanya stood on the opposite side of the court with a stopwatch and a clipboard, and the whistle between her lips. His celibacy since the breakup with Sabrina must’ve been getting to him, because dressed in navy polyester track pants and an East High t-shirt, Tanya was looking mighty hot. Something he’d thought about more than a couple times as they‘d crashed classrooms around the school.
The whistle sounded again, and ten tired kids dragged themselves across the white line.
“Nice work,” she said. “Now listen up! We didn’t have the shuttle when I was in high school. We had the mile. And let me tell you, my mile was faster than Mr. MVP’s over there.”
A few snickers sounded, but most of the kids looked like they didn’t believe her. Cam played to them by making faces and drawing little circles in the air beside his ear.
“Is anyone else curious to see how Mr. Simmons handles the shuttle?” she asked.
Of course, they cheered—even the kids on the bleachers.
He looked down at his loosely laced high-top sneakers. Despite the athletic pants and T-shirt beneath his North Face jacket, he wasn’t exactly dressed for speed.
Buck! Buck! The chicken sounds started low, but then her students joined in until Cam had to make a move.
“Only if Miss Martin does it too,” he said.
Oohs echoed through the gym, and she looked about ready to pop him. But then she lifted the whistle over her head and handed both it and the clipboard to a redheaded girl sitting on the bottom bleacher.
“You’re on,” she said.
“What are the rules?” Cam asked.
“We start behind the line. When the whistle blows, it’s an all-out sprint. Top of the key and back. Half court and back. Top of the opposite key and back. End of the court and back.”
“You have to bend all the way down and touch the white lines or it doesn’t count,” said the redhead with the clipboard.
“Right,” Tanya said. “And the loser has to run it again.”
“Wait a minute.” He looked at the grinning class. “Is that always the rule, or is that only for me?”
They just laughed.
He hid a snicker. “Fine. Whatever. It doesn’t matter, because Miss Martin’s going to lose.”
She won. He blamed it on his sneakers.
“I should’ve tied them tighter,” he said. Along with, “I want a rematch.”
But his vindication would have to wait. She had a sixth period meeting, which meant their fun was done. And he was sorry, because it had been a blast.
“I loved this day,” he said as he stood outside her office.
Had he known he was going to love it this much, he would’ve been here sooner. Damn. Maybe he’d messed up more than he thought he had.
“It was good.” The smile that spread from her lips to her sparkling eyes said she was temperin
g her enthusiasm.
Same old Tanya. Different too, but enough was familiar to make him think that if he played it right, they could get back to where they’d been before he’d become distracted by his new life. “So … you think maybe after all this fun you’ll be calling me soon?”
“I’ll think about it.”
He watched her walk away, his smile firmly in place, and then he headed in the opposite direction toward the main exit. At the last minute, he detoured, taking a side door out onto the pavement between the school and the football stadium.
Right there. That was where the magic happened. He couldn’t see the whole field, but he could see enough to spark some memories of touchdowns and trick plays, sellout crowds and after parties that would’ve made his mother’s blood curdle.
Getting with a girl for the first time beneath those bleachers over there.
He dragged a palm over his mouth and closed his eyes as the wind picked up. That Friday night senior year, he’d gone to his most trusted female friend with a crazy request—sex. So he could get it over with and quit worrying about what he was missing and if he’d be any good at it. He’d been popular. He’d had opportunity, but he’d also had performance anxiety—on field and off. Confidence came with practice, but he had no desire to practice on someone who would make his lack of experience a big deal.
He and Tanya had been so much alike. Too busy tearing it up on the field or the court to care about relationships. It shouldn’t have surprised him when she announced she was a virgin too. But it had. She’d always seemed so much surer than him. Thankfully her inexperience worked to his advantage, because man, oh man, he’d been terrible at it, but she hadn’t complained or made fun of him. The next day, she’d acted like nothing happened, which allowed him to act like nothing had happened too. She’d been so good at acting sometimes he thought she must’ve forgotten. But he couldn’t. He thought about it from time to time over the years. How could he not? She’d been his first. That counted for something to him. Maybe it hadn’t to her.
“Cam Simmons, I heard you were here.”
Vice Principal Rollins held open the side door Cam had escaped through.
Principal Rollins now, he reminded himself. “Yes, sir. I’m here. Caused some trouble in history and Spanish, then did some showing off in P.E.”
“Like old times.” The man laughed. “How long are you in town?”
Well, technically that depended on how quickly he could get his mother to agree to leave town, but he figured a month at least to get her packed up and situated. “Until end of March.”
“Nice. Hope we see you around again. I’m sure we could find you something motivational to do with the students if you get bored.”
That actually sounded really good. It would keep him busy while his mother was working and while he waited for Tanya to call.
He smiled when he said, “Sounds like a plan.”
Maybe seeing him around here would be the push Tanya needed, and his ticket to making up for the last five years.
• • •
“If Rollins isn’t here to start this meeting in the next five minutes, I’m leaving,” Tanya said. “I have a yoga lesson to prepare for.” Because someone had complained her classes were too aggressively minded. No doubt a dodgeball hater.
Health teacher Andie Krieger nodded. “I know. I have reproduction diagrams to grade.”
Ha! “I’ll trade you.” That had to be more fun than yoga.
Rollins walked in. It was still so weird to have her boss be the same man who’d called her out of seventh-period algebra to ask her if she’d been involved in toilet-papering the third-floor restrooms. Of course, she had been. Along with the rest of the seniors on the basketball team.
“Ladies,” he said with a nod. “Sorry about that. I got sidetracked by a special visitor.”
Cam. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
“I heard,” Andie said. “How exciting. A Super Bowl MVP. Some students were talking about him in the hall.”
“Yes. Cam Simmons is a former student.” He looked at Tanya. “Same year as you, right? I caught up with him before he left, and I asked if he’d be interested in doing something at the school while he was home. And … he said ‘yes’!”
Oh, for crying out loud! Now Rollins was star struck.
“Maybe he would play in the faculty-student basketball game,” Andie said.
Tanya’s jaw dropped. She was co-chairing and playing in that event. That’s what this meeting was about. Spending more time with Cam was not what she needed. “He’s not faculty.”
“But he’s a former student,” Rollins said. “And I think it’s a wonderful idea, Andie. Can you imagine the tickets we’ll sell?”
Tanya could. And again, it was like a flashing neon sign. This was exactly what she needed to do at the gym—use Cam as bait to bring people in, and then charge them for the privilege.
“I’ll call him,” she said. “I’ll ask him if he’d be interested.”
She would also find a way to slip in the bit about her father’s gym. After all, he said he would help … and he owed her.
Chapter Three
“All right, ladies, listen up!” Coach Howl raised a hand above his head and motioned for everybody to join him on the blue and yellow logo in the center of the turfed college field they rented during the colder weather.
This would be their first pre-season, minimal-contact practice, and Tanya had the swarm of butterflies in her stomach to prove it.
“In these drills, aggression is not your focus, hence the lack of pads. Technique is the name of this game. It’s a time for learning. I know. Some of you are WPFL champions.” He smiled as a few women whooped in acknowledgement of last year’s winning season. “But some of you have never played before. Be courteous. The time will come for raising hell. Now is not that time. That means nobody gets taken to the ground, and no targeting the head. Play stops with two-hand contact. All possessions start at the 40. No running plays. QBs have four seconds to release. Six points for a T-D. Ladies, welcome to 7-on-7.”
More cheers.
Tanya shifted her weight from leg to leg and bounced on the balls of her feet. She was so ready for this. Another season. Another trophy. Cam Simmons wasn’t the only football champion in the neighborhood. He was just the only one people talked about.
“Gimme Rooney, Martin, Wren, Bell, Bush, Herman, and Jones on offense. Barnes, Wiesman, Lowell, Jefferson, Kent, Aaronson, and French on D. Martin!” Coach motioned Tanya over. “Take your pass sets like usual. Drop and target the defender. That’s it. Got it?”
She nodded. When she lined up in her left guard position beside their center, Jade Wren, every muscle in her body twitched. Excitement was one thing. Jumping offside was another.
Protect this house. Giving quarterback MJ Rooney enough time to read the bubble and get her pass off was the goal.
Jade’s snap to MJ sounded like a gun blast in Tanya’s ears. It was all she could do to keep herself from leveling the linebacker. So much adrenaline. A couple shoves, a few grunts, a drip of sweat in her eye. The ball whizzed overhead, and a second later Coach’s whistle signaled a stoppage in play.
Tanya turned to MJ, who was grinning from ear to ear. Hell yeah. Life wasn’t living without football.
“Do it again!” Coach yelled.
He wasn’t going to get an argument from her.
Ten minutes later the horn sounded, announcing the switch to specials. Field goal work. Tanya carried the adrenaline from 7-on-7 through the rest of practice, and by the time she stepped out of the shower, she was blissfully exhausted.
“Felt good to be back in action, didn’t it?” MJ asked.
“Damn good.” Tanya ran a wide-toothed comb through her wet hair.
“We should do something to celebrate.” Jillian rubbed a handful of lotion over the arm with the colorful—sometimes disturbing—array of tattoos. Seriously, who marred their body with a huge tattoo of Cinderella strangling Prince Char
ming? The girl who just yelled, “Par-tay!”
From the tattoos and electric blue tipped hair to the staying out all night, Tanya’s roommate and the team’s most talented wide receiver wore the tag “bad girl” like a badge of honor.
“You partied last night, didn’t you?” Tanya asked. God only knew where she’d been over the last forty-eight hours. “You should probably sleep in your own bed.”
“What’s wrong with having fun?”
“Nothing.” As long as it didn’t blow up in your face, and sometimes Jillian’s part-time job as a band promoter had her walking a fine line.
MJ sat at the end of the bench to zip her knee-high boots. “I can’t. I have dinner plans with Tag.”
Jillian made a kissy-face sound that for some reason rubbed Tanya the wrong way. “Grow up.” She rolled her eyes.
“Why are you so grumpy?” Jillian asked.
“I’m tired.” Among other things she hadn’t had the time or opportunity to discuss with her best friends yet.
“Is that all?” asked MJ, the damn mind reader.
“Maybe.” Tanya ran conditioner through her chin-length curls, and then topped that off with a generous handful of gel. “Maybe not.” She glanced around the thinning locker room and decided now was as good a time as any. “My dad’s having money problems at the gym. Big problems. Foreclosure-sized problems.”
“Shit,” Jillian said.
“Exactly.”
“How much does he owe?” MJ asked.
“Thirty grand.” It even felt like a lot on her tongue.
MJ stood. “I’ll talk to Tag.”
“No.” The wet ends of Tanya’s hair slapped her chin as she disagreed. “My dad won’t take a loan. Cam already offered that.”
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