by Taylor Hyer
RJ
Football was in full swing during the month of October, so that was really the only thing on my mind. I had practice every day after school, games on Saturdays, and I worked out with Dad four days a week, usually Sunday to Wednesday. It was a full schedule, which left little time for anything but football. Mom wasn’t always happy about this decision, but Dad and I didn’t workout until Ifinished my homework. One night, I didn’t finish homework until midnight, but Dad was still awake, waiting to hit the gym in our basement.
My dad had the gym installed when I was a freshman, and when my twin older brothers, Leighton and Landon, were sophomores. “It’s the perfect age to start getting bigger,” our dad said.
We weren’t naturally small guys. Each of us hit six feet in seventh grade. Leighton and Landon were even bigger than I was. Landon was the biggest; this made him the defensive lineman of the group. Leighton was a little smaller, but still a big guy; making him our linebacker. I was the smallest, but still had plenty of mass to me, which made me the wide receiver. Our dad joked that he wanted to keep having kids so he could have an entire football team because of how spread out we were, but mom was done after three boys; I didn’t blame her either.
Our mom complained until her face was blue about how much she hated football, but she was at every one of our games cheering us on. She was one of the loudest in the crowd, aside from our dad of course. Most parents stayed away from ours, knowing they’d erupt at anytime if provoked by even the slightest bad referee call.
As football practice was about to start that day after school, Leighton and Landon walked up to a few of us to talk about what we needed to work on. As seniors (and the best on the team), they were tasked with leading the practice for the first thirty minutes on Mondays and Thursdays before our coaches showed up.
“We’re just going to do conditioning for thirty minutes today,” Leighton said. “Back to basics.”
When Leighton said, “back to basics” we all knew he really meant, “For thirty minutes, we’ll make you want to puke for the next week”. Leighton and Landon were brutal when they led our conditioning. They never let up on us. We were given only two water breaks in between, and though that might seem like enough for a short period of time, it wasn’t even close.
The first time I took part in their conditioning practice, I threw up. I was in great shape for the beginning of the season, but they pounded everyone into the ground. Imagine two hundred- and fifty-pound linemen trying to run suicides for five minutes straight. You can’t? Well, neither could I, but they did it; and they puked. A lot.
Leighton and Landon turned away from the group to go gather the rest of the team from the bench. “Meet us at center field,” Landon called back to us.
Duke turned to me, “I saw you walking with the new girl today.”
“Her name is Parker,” I said. “We just had class in the same place.”
“You also fell asleep in class?” Duke laughed.
“I didn’t fall asleep,” I snapped. I turned and walked toward center field.
“Someone’s snippy today,” I heard Duke say behind me. The guys laughed. I refused to turn around, not giving anyone the satisfaction.
I didn’t know why I felt like I needed to protect Parker. She clearly wasn’t the type of girl to drool over me like all the other new girls. She wasn’t pushing herself on anyone, not even to make any friends. Every new girl we had in the years before immediately tried to become the popular girl. They noticed the star football players and the head cheerleaders, and they immediately attached to them. Why was Parker so different?
“Indian runs to start,” Landon said as everyone grouped up.
“Until everyone has run to the front twice,” Leighton finished.
The groans came from the entire team, echoing across the field. Landon and Leighton started the line, and we all formed behind them in single file. I was toward the middle of the line, knowing my time to sprint to the front would be about two minutes later. Indian Runs didn’t take long, even with twenty-five guys on the team. You needed to sprint as fast as you could from the back of the line to the front while everyone was jogging around the field. Once you reached the front, you continued to jog, but you always dreaded the back, because it was a long sprint.
We had fast guys on our team, but not a lot of them had the endurance to go from a jog, into a sprint, back into a jog for long periods of time. Football was a sport that allowed for frequent breaks to catch your breath. It wasn’t a continuous job for hours like soccer.
We typically only did one round of Indian Runs because by the end of it, we were all tired; but of course, Landon and Leighton woke up feeling like drill sergeants. We were also required to practice with our padded pants and shoulder pads on, adding more weight and insulation. I knew someone was bound to puke at their earliest convenience.
Once the Indian Runs were over, we were given our first thirty second water break. Duke came up to me, sweat pouring down his face. His shaved head glimmered as the sun directly hit the sweat that pooled on top. His large chest moved quickly up and down as he tried to catch his breath. “Your brothers suck,” he said, barely able to get the words out of his mouth. “How are you not dying?”
“They’re my brothers,” I laughed. “After that first time when they made me puke, I refused to let them get to me again. I ran every day for miles. I sprinted for miles. I’d never let them know that they could beat me in anything.”
“You’re a god in every aspect of life,” Duke puffed out as we walked back to the center of the field.
I just laughed and listened as Leighton told us about the suicide runs we were about to complete. “If you can’t get to the end before the whistle blows, that’s one more for the entire team. Don’t let your men down.”
Everyone looked at the big men on the team. We knew they would be the ones that forced us to run suicides until our coaches showed up.
“We’ll run six to the end of the field,” Landon said, “but there may be more if you can’t keep up.”
“Will you be running these as well?” I spoke up, testing my brothers.
“We will take turns, so we have someone blowing the whistle,” Leighton said sharply, his eyes locked on mine.
I nodded my head, knowing I’d probably be punched when we went home. The way Leighton stared at me as we walked to one end zone told me that he was going to punch me at his earliest convenience.
After practice was over, I knew I was in dire need of a shower. The coaches were working us harder than they ever had because of the games we had in the upcoming weeks. We were to play the number one team in the state, the Mountain Region Tigers. The next week we were going to play the third team in the state, the Hopkinton Red Bulls. We were number two in the state, but rankings didn’t matter when you were playing. There were upsets all the time.
Our coaches worked us every week, but as we got closer to playoffs, we worked twice as hard. I didn’t mind, mostly because I was used to it. As playoff games got closer, my dad worked my brothers and me even harder.
We didn’t get any days off, which upset my mom. Dad always responded with, “Are you going to pay for all three of them to go to an out of state division I college?” She wasn’t. That’s what scholarships were for.
Landon and Leighton wanted to go to the same place: Notre Dame. Some of the best NFL players came out of that school. Many of our favorite players came from Notre Dame. We all had our player from our favorite team, the Dallas Cowboys that we wanted to be like.
Leighton’s favorite was Jaylon Smith because of his comeback story and the way he played the field. “I want to be able to make it from one tackle to the next across the field just like he does,” Leighton always said. Landon liked Demarcus Lawrence because of his “ability to attack the quarterback on almost every play”. I wanted to be like Michael Irvin because, well, Hall of Famer and three rings is all I really have to say about him.
We had big goals. We wanted to be l
ike the Watt family; three siblings in the NFL together. Our mother worried, but our father was determined; maybe more determined than we were. During football season, he worked part time at his firm to ensure he made every game and extra late-night practice. We weren’t allowed to work during football season, though our mother made sure we always helped with housework. “You won’t become neglectful and be handed everything just because you want to be stars,” she always said.
Our mother kept our father grounded. He was fearless; a guy you naturally felt like following. People seemed to be drawn to him, whether they wanted to be or not. He was a hot shot in high school, too. He was “worshipped by every girl and even some boys” (as he liked to mention).
My mother was the opposite. She wasn’t popular in high school. She focused on her studies and helped on her family farm. It wasn’t until my parents met in college that they both stepped out of their comfort zones to find something they had never experienced before.
November
Parker
The first few weeks of school dragged on. Almost all my classes felt like review. It was weird, though, because gym class seemed to be my favorite. Maybe it was because it was something completely new, or maybe because I started to feel way too comfortable with RJ. He made me laugh, and he stopped trying too hard to impress me, which I appreciated.
People noticed that we’d talk during our free time in the halls, so in the first week, I became an actual visible human being. A few of RJ’s friends would occasionally come up to me and start a conversation. The conversations wouldn’t last long, though, because I’d keep my words short and sweet, not wanting to get too much attention.
I questioned whether I should stop talking to RJ. I didn’t want to have so many conversations with people, and by the third week of school, it almost became too much. I feared the spotlight, but I was in so far, and could barely back out.
I went up to RJ one Thursday during free time in gym class. I wanted to talk to him about my hopes of going unnoticed for the rest of the school year. It was a big task, but I needed to make it clear.
“You don’t want people talking to you?” RJ asked.
“Well, that makes me sound like a snob,” I laughed softly, playing with the hair tie on my wrist. “I’m just not used to people noticing me. I’m not good with talking to people.”
“You and I talk a lot,” RJ replied.
“I know, but now there are so many people talking to me and asking me questions about my life that I just don’t know how to talk to them,” I said, looking down at the floor. My feet were moving from side to side, something I always did when I was nervous.
“You’re shy,” he said, “I get that.”
“You’re not shy,” I laughed.
“Believe it or not, I was raised by an extremely shy mother,” RJ said.
I looked up at him, “Really?”
“Yes, but my dad was very overbearing, so that’s where I get it from.”
“You aren’t overbearing,” I said softly. “I’m just not good with conversation.”
I felt bad, because it wasn’t like I didn’t want to talk to people, but it was never easy being the “weird new girl”.
“I just want to know you,” RJ said. He stared into my eyes, reached out, and then touched my arm softly. “Talk to me.”
Right then and there, I wanted to give him my entire life story. Maybe it was cliché of me, but the way he touched my arm sent every electric feeling through my body. I worried that if I looked at him any longer, I would faint. Or maybe I’d lean in to kiss him, but that was something I definitely didn’t want to do.
Mrs. Pickett blew her whistle, “Circle up!”
As we were about to turn toward the center of the gym, I regretted the words that came out of my mouth next: “I’ll tell you about me.”
“After football practice?” he asked.
I nodded as we stepped in sync toward mid court. I nodded. Why did I nod? Had I just agreed to meet the most popular kid after school to talk about my life? I had rarely ever shared any information about my life at any of my other schools. All they knew was that I was a military child with an artistic mom and an athletic kid brother. No one ever really asked, though.
Maybe that was the appeal. I was interested in RJ because he seemed to show a genuine interest in me. Maybe my idea of him was wrong. There was only one way to find out. I needed to find out.
RJ
Football practice dragged on. None of the drills interested me. I wanted nothing more than to just leave and meet up with Parker. We decided to meet at her house, which in it of itself was nerve wracking. She said she didn’t know if her dad would be home, so she needed to watch her brother. Was I going to meet her family? I didn’t know anything about her, but I would potentially meet her family? It was completely backwards, but I already knew that she wasn’t a traditional girl. The only thing I knew was that she was going to talk to me. Finally.
I dropped a pass at practice, something that rarely ever happened. I couldn’t blame it on the quarterback, because it was a perfect throw. He hit me in stride, effortlessly over the defender, but I let it fall out of my hands. I think we would’ve heard a pin drop after it happened. Right before playoffs, coaches didn’t like mistakes, especially simple ones like that. Everyone on the team was silent, filled with obvious shock as I saw their faces through our helmets; eyes wide.
Our wide receivers coach broke the silence, “Davis! What in the hell?”
I turned to look at him and shrugged my shoulders. “Sorry coach! Won’t happen again. Let’s run it back.”
We decided to run the same play again, and this time I made the catch. Was she really that much of a distraction for me already? I didn’t know what was going on, but I couldn’t tell if I wanted it to continue or not.
When practice ended, I quickly ran to my car so I could go home and shower. As I opened my car door, I heard Leighton calling for me. I turned around to see him jogging toward me.
“Why the rush?” he asked as he stopped in front of my car.
“I’m going to study with a friend,” I lied.
Leighton laughed loudly, “You don’t study.”
“If I want to be eligible for the big games coming up, I need to study,” I said, which wasn’t even a lie. I was almost failing chemistry, and if I did poorly on another assignment or test, I wouldn’t be eligible for playoffs.
“Don’t let a girl make you drop anymore passes,” Leighton said, his mouth turning into a small frown.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied. “I have to go home and shower.”
“You know what Dad says,” Leighton said sternly.
“Yeah,” I snapped. “The NFL doesn’t ask if you have a girlfriend.”
“The NFL doesn’t ask if you have a girlfriend,” he repeated. “They don’t care, either.”
“I’ll see you at home,” I said, ignoring him. I sat in my car and closed the door. I turned the car on and plugged my phone into the aux. I turned the dial on the stereo, blasting the music that automatically turned on: Wow by Post Malone.
I peeled out of the parking lot, speeding to get home. Parker and I agreed to meet at her house at six, but as usual, practice ended half an hour later than it should have. I only had a half hour to get home, shower, and then drive to Parker’s house. I never got her phone number to let her know I’d probably be late. I didn’t want her to think I was blowing her off, so I worried.
When I arrived at my house, I ran up the stairs and right into the bathroom. I turned the shower on, stripping my practice clothes off. I threw the dirty clothes into our hamper and got into the shower. The water was still cold, but I didn’t mind. It felt good, and I quickly washed my hair and body. I turned the shower off, then dried my body. I wrapped the towel around my waist and ran into my bedroom to change.
I put a pair of khaki shorts and a light blue polo t-shirt on. I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard, but I also didn’
t want to look like I wasn’t trying at all. I put deodorant on and sprayed some cologne.
I ran down the stairs, realizing that no one was home. I was happy that it was a Thursday and my dad had to work late. It was the only day he ever worked late during football season; it made up for the time he missed on Saturdays and other occasional days he left early to come watch us practice. No one was there to ask questions or to hold me up, so I left immediately.
As I pulled out of our long driveway and onto the newly paved road, I noticed Landon’s car about to pull into the driveway. Leighton was sitting in the passenger seat, and he rolled his window down, trying to wave me down to stop. I didn’t stop.
I drove to the end of our road and pulled over. I pulled out my phone and punched Parker’s address into Google Maps. Her house was fourteen minutes from my house. It was now 5:50 so I knew I would be a few minutes late. Great. I couldn’t speed to make up a few minutes either, because it was rush hour, which might’ve made me even later.
Why didn’t I ask for her number just in case? I hoped she wasn’t waiting too long for me to show up. Who was I kidding though? That was not the type of girl to wait around for anyone. She was used to leaving people, so I knew she didn’t want to wait for me. Why was I even worrying about this? I didn’t have time for a relationship. Like Dad always said: The NFL doesn’t ask if you have a girlfriend.
The NFL doesn’t care, either.
Parker
I realized I should have given him my number, so he could’ve text me when he decided not to show up at my house. Why did I tell him to come to my house? I should’ve waited until I knew him better. What if he tried to make a move? I had never really invited anyone to any of our houses, let alone a boy. Let alone the hottest boy I had ever seen.