by Taylor Hyer
I went into my bedroom and took my clothes off, only keeping my boxers on. I set my phone on my night stand, then moved toward my bed and pulled the sheets back. My mom must have cleaned my room while I was gone, because I never made my bed. She was always looking for something to do, and cleaning my room seemed to be a full-time job for her.
After I got into bed, I took my phone from the nightstand. I opened up a new message and typed: Thanks for having me over. I loved getting to know you. See you tomorrow!
A few minutes later, just as I was about to fall asleep, I felt my phone vibrate next to me. I picked it up and the message shined brightly in my eyes: You’re more than just football, and I liked getting to know that other side of you. Hope you didn’t get in too much trouble tonight. See you tomorrow. –P.
I smiled like an idiot as I set my phone aside. I think I fell asleep with that same smile on my face.
Parker
The sun was the only thing in the sky on Saturday morning. The clouds disappeared for the big game. I let the rays touch my skin as I closed my eyes, listening to the crowd go wild. It was a loud and lively crowd, even from outside of the field. My dad nudged my right shoulder and I opened my eyes, realizing the line was finally moving. It felt like we were waiting to buy tickets for a professional game because of the amount of people it was drawing in.
“One adult, one student, and one child please,” my dad said as we reached the front of the line.
A student handed us three tickets as my dad handed him money. We turned toward the field. As we got closer, the noise level grew. Once we reached the stands, a flood of blue and white came into view. The stands were full of people supporting our school colors. I saw people of all ages; there were even babies wearing blue or white earmuffs while their parents were holding them, also wearing supporting colors.
“I’m glad I wore white,” my dad said, looking down at his shirt.
I laughed and agreed, “me too.”
We walked by the section that was filled with students and my dad said, “Do you want to sit there instead?”
“Not a chance,” I said, butterflies filling my stomach at the thought of sitting in such a rowdy crowd of strangers without my family.
We kept walking toward the end of the bleachers. There were barely any open spots, but my dad noticed a few about halfway up one of the stands. We walked up the stairs, Jackson leading the way. He leaped up the stairs, heavy on his feet, causing the bleacher material to ring after each step. We moved toward the middle of the section, shimmying past a few fans.
“I know nothing about this sport,” I sighed as we sat down.
“I’ve failed as a father,” my dad said, grabbing at his heart as if he was just punctured.
“Dad,” Jackson spoke up, “we’re only here because P likes a boy.”
“That is not true!” I exclaimed.
Jackson and my dad looked at one another and simultaneously rolled their eyes, laughing. They both hummed the “mm hmm”, letting me know that they didn’t believe me in the slightest.
I turned away from them, looking at the field. The ground was turf, and the lines looked as if they were freshly painted for this game. The teams had just jogged out onto the field; that’s why the crowd was standing and screaming as we arrived. Both teams were at their respective benches, huddled up and chanting some sort of song to pump them up.
The clock on the board at the end of the field read 12:58. The game was about to start. As our school’s team exited the huddle, I noticed RJ in the middle of the circle. He must’ve been one of the players leading the ridiculous traditional chant. It made sense; he was typically the center of attention.
He held his helmet at his hip as he stood at the sideline. A few players from each team ran out to each side of the field. A player on the opposing team set the football down and backed up. The players stood on the field, bending their knees, looking as if they were getting ready to run. A whistle sounded, and the player that set the ball down ran up and kicked it into the air. All the players were now in motion as the ball spun up, and then began to fall. One of the players on our team waved his hands in the air before catching it. Players ran by him, avoiding any contact.
“Why wouldn’t he run?” I asked.
My dad laughed, “He called a fair catch.”
“You have to call every time you’re going to catch the stupid ball?” I asked, my voice rising as it typically did when I got confused.
“Only on the kick-off like that,” my dad replied. “I will not be answering all of your questions, Peanut. You’re going to have to just figure it out or sit back and enjoy the mystery.”
I rolled my eyes and turned back toward the field. I watched as RJ put his helmet on and jogged onto the field. He stood furthest to the right, closest to the fans. He put one foot in front of the other, bending his knees as he looked at one of the refs standing next to him and put his arm out, then pulled it back in.
I knew enough about football to know that the quarterback yells something ridiculous before he gets the ball in his hands. With the noise from the crowd, though, it was impossible to hear anything other than the screams, clapping, and the occasional cow bell. By this time, everyone in the crowd was standing up, which meant if we wanted to see the game, we were also standing.
The quarterback handed the ball to another player and as he started to run, he was immediately swallowed up by a couple of opposing players. The crowd still screamed, though I wasn’t sure why they would when someone on their team was just pummeled. The players lined back up as they did before, RJ lifting his hand to the ref again.
“Why do they do the same exact motions repeatedly? Isn’t that the definition of insanity?” I asked no one in particular.
“Yes, this is insane!” I heard someone yell from behind me. I didn’t turn around.
“But it just started,” I said quieter so only my dad could hear.
“Like RJ said,” he started, “it’s a big game. Though it isn’t a championship, it’s important to people. Beat the team and you’re in second place. That’s pretty sweet.”
Listening to my dad drag on about football should have been annoying, but I enjoyed seeing how interested he got into something other than the military. All he ever did was talk about the military and how important it was for his maturity and growth throughout life. He rarely ever wanted to discuss the times he played football, so listening to him get so into a game that barely mattered to him meant a lot to me.
At that moment, I decided I would try to give the game a chance. The next play, the quarterback threw the ball in the air in RJ’s direction. RJ had just run around another player, though he was right by him, trying to block him from getting the ball. RJ jumped up in the air, reaching his hands up high above him. He caught the ball and landed on his feet. The other player immediately tackled him, but I knew what he had just done was something great.
The crowd got even louder. Even more cow bells were ringing, causing my ears to ring along with them. I clapped loudly, smiling as RJ stood up off the ground. After the crowd lowered the noise level, I could distantly hear the announcer say: “RJ Davis, 15 yards, 1st down!” Everyone else heard this too, because the crowd raised its noise level again. There weren’t as many cow bells being rung, but there were plenty of woo-hoo’s and let’s go’s, along with expletives that Jackson should not have been hearing from random adults.
At the end of the game, my hands hurt from clapping so much. As the game went on, I understood more of what was happening. RJ was a fantastic football player, and I understood why it was a sport that consumed his life. The scoreboard read: 21-10. We won.
RJ
At the end of the game, in the mess of the crowd, I spotted Parker standing at the top of the bleachers. Her dad and Jackson were on either side of her, and she was smiling. I wondered if they were waiting for the crowd to clear out before walking down the stairs; smart.
Jackson was running back and forth on the bleachers. From m
y spot on the field I could hear the echo of his heavy feet hitting the metal. Parker moved her head side to side, watching Jackson release his energy. Aside from families and a few fans, the crowd had completely dispersed. I could still hear people from the parking lot screaming and shaking their cow bells, but there was barely anyone on the bleachers.
Leighton and Landon approached me, their hands stretched out. We gave one another a quick fist bump, and our parents trailed behind. Our father was wearing one of the biggest smiles I had ever seen.
“That play in the third quarter was nasty,” our father said while looking at me. He then looked at Leighton and Landon, “and your tackles were quite clean throughout the entire game.”
“Thanks, Dad,” we all said in unison. We were getting quite good at being in sync, especially while standing on a football field.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Parker and her family walking down the bleachers. Our dad was showing Leighton and Landon a video that he recorded on his phone during the second quarter.
“Leighton, look how low you get here,” Dad said as he pointed to the phone. “A little higher and they won’t slip out of your arms.”
As he was droning on about the clips he captured, I turned and ran toward Parker. Jackson spotted me as he was thumping down the stairs. “RJ!” he yelled, his voice echoing across the field.
“What’s up, bud?” I yelled back as I jogged toward them.
I reached the bottom of the bleachers and Jackson already had his arm outstretched toward me. I met his hand with mine.
“Nice game!” Jackson said, his voice still extending even though I was right next to him.
“Thanks, man,” I laughed.
Parker and her dad made it to the bottom of the bleachers and joined Jackson. I stared at Parker, smiling. She smiled back at me, showing me her perfectly aligned teeth. She was wearing reflecting sunglasses, so I could see myself smiling like an idiot at her. Her cheeks were pinker than they were before, possibly because of being in the sun for three hours. Her skin was pale, so it wouldn’t surprise me if she burned easily.
“RJ, what a game,” Parker’s dad said, reaching his hand out toward me. We shook hands, his grasp much less firm than the first time we met.
I relaxed, smiling, “Thank you.”
“It was great,” Parker pitched it.
“Even for someone who knows nothing about football?” I replied, raising one of my eyebrows.
“She was really annoying as the game started because she knew nothing about it,” Mr. Williams laughed. “After the first quarter though, she caught on at least a little bit. She understood that when you caught the ball, it meant to stand up and yell for you.”
Parker pushed her dad’s arm as he laughed out loud. “You’re so embarrassing,” she said, rolling her eyes and turning away.
Even when she was trying to act tough and angry, she was cute. I noticed that her nose wrinkled up when she got angry or annoyed with her dad.
“Your brothers are on the team too, right?” Parker’s dad said, breaking the silence that I created by looking at Parker.
“Yes,” I replied, “One is a linebacker and one is a defensive end. Number fifty-five and ninety.”
“Your father must be so proud,” Parker’s dad beamed. “I always wanted a few boys to create a mini football team with.”
“Jeez, Dad,” Parker said in a bitter tone, “should’ve just given me a sex change.”
“Oh, Peanut,” Mr. Williams laughed, “don’t be so dramatic. Just having you at this game has been my proudest moment.”
Parker opened her mouth, but I spoke before she could get another snarky comment out, “Speaking of my family, do you want to meet them?”
I looked from Parker to her father, unsure of who I asked the question to.
“Sure!” Mr. Williams said, not even looking at Parker for her input.
“Okay,” I replied. “Let me go change out of these sweaty pads, then I’ll meet you back here.”
I turned around on the field and jogged toward the school. I ran past my family before they could ask me about my conversation.
Was I really going to introduce Parker to my parents? I slowed down as I neared the locker room, beginning to worry about the introduction.
Would my father immediately disapprove, giving his “the NFL doesn’t care if you have a girlfriend” speech?
Would my mother pry too much to gather information about Parker and her family?
Would Leighton and Landon sexualize her as they seemed to do with every girl they saw?
I began to regret allowing her to meet my family so early. What would the meeting turn into?
Parker
RJ’s shoulders were even more broad with his football pads on. After they won, we stayed at the top of the bleachers until the crowd died down. Jackson had a habit of running ahead of us, so we didn’t want to run the risk of losing him.
I spotted RJ with his brothers, and then his mom and dad joined them. His mother hugged her three sons, while his father high fived them all, then pulled his phone out to show them something.
Once the crowd died down, we walked down the bleachers. Jackson ran ahead of us, causing his footsteps to echo more than ours. RJ turned away from his family and headed toward mine. I couldn’t help but smile as he jogged toward us, meeting Jackson at the bottom of the bleachers. My dad was overjoyed to talk to RJ, potentially too overjoyed because he agreed to meet the rest of the Davis family.
I was going to meet his brothers, his mom, and his dad at the same time. I felt my heart begin to race with anticipation as RJ jogged away from us and toward the school. My mouth dried out, and I felt like I was losing my ability to breath. I put my hand on my chest, feeling my heart beat faster as the moments passed.
We stood in silence, waiting for RJ to finish changing. I didn’t bother arguing with my dad over meeting RJ’s family, but I kept quiet, hoping he’d notice the nerves that were probably emanating from my body. Could nerves do that?
About ten minutes later, RJ joined his family by one of the benches at the other side of the field. He turned toward us and waved his hand, gesturing us to him. Jackson jumped down from the bleachers and ran toward RJ and his family. I didn’t want to run after him, and I could tell my dad didn’t either, so we walked instead.
Jackson jumped into RJ’s arms, and RJ caught him. They hugged, and RJ kept him there, holding him in the air. As we got closer, I heard Jackson say, “Wow, I’m so tall now.”
I laughed nervously, pulling the hair tie that was on my wrist a few times.
“Well, this is Jackson,” RJ laughed as he looked at his family.
“Why hello Jackson,” RJ’s mom said. “I’m Martha, Rayne’s mom.”
“Who?” Jackson asked, not knowing that RJ wasn’t his real name.
“RJ, you goof,” I laughed.
RJ looked at me and smiled, setting Jackson on the ground. He then turned toward his family and said, “This is Parker, the new girl I told you about.”
One of RJ’s brothers held his hand out to me. “I’m Leighton,” he said. His voice was deeper than RJ’s.
Another brother held his hand out after Leighton let go. “I’m Landon,” he said. His voice was similar to Leighton’s, which made sense since they were identical.
The twins were almost the same height, and they were both slightly taller than RJ was. RJ was the smallest brother, though the word “small” shouldn’t have necessarily been used to describe any of them. Their dad was about the same height as Landon. The only person in their family that was even close to my height was their mother. The rest of them towered over me.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, feeling my heart beat faster.
RJ’s dad looked at me and held his hand out. “It’s a pleasure,” he said. “I’m RJ’s father, Richard.”
I met his hand, feeling my sweat transfer to him. I pulled away slowly and wiped my hand on my shirt, hoping RJ’s dad wouldn’t do the same. I smiled
at him, not knowing what to say. My dad moved forward and held his hand out.
“I’m Kenton,” he said, “Parker’s father.”
They began to talk about who they were, what they did, and then began talking about football. I zoned out as RJ moved next to me, touching his hip to mine. I smiled, unsure of what to say.
RJ leaned down and whispered, “I think our dads like each other.”
His breath was warm, yet it sent a shiver down my spine.
“My dad is just excited he has someone to talk about football with,” I laughed quietly.
“I’m glad you showed up,” RJ said.
“Me too,” I agreed.
“Well, we should get home,” Richard’s voice boomed. “These boys have got to eat.”
We said goodbye to each other and went our separate ways. We got into my dad’s truck and drove home. As we neared our house, I felt my phone vibrate on my lap.
A text from RJ appeared on the screen. My mom said she already likes you, and she invited you over for dinner next Sunday night. Would you like to come?
I felt my heart rate rise as I was unsure of how to answer. His mom liked me after only meeting me for a few minutes? Why would she want me to come over for dinner? Was this some sort of test? I was not ready for any of this.
“What’s up, P?” my dad asked, somehow noticing the fear that was rising in my body.
“RJ’s mom invited me over for dinner next week,” I said, my voice shaking as I spoke.
“You don’t want to go?” my dad asked.
“We aren’t dating, you know that right?” I was making sure he knew my situation. My dad always assumed that any boy I was talking to automatically meant trouble.