The Football Girl Read online

  I smiled to myself as I untied my cleats. Caleb had been saying those three words again and again since this season of flag football had begun two months before—way back in early March. We got it. He said it, and we believed it. Even when we lost, he made us think we had it. It was contagious. He was contagious. It was another reason I liked him so much.

  I had just finished lacing up my sneakers when Lexie and Marina appeared. We had plans to go on a trail run in Boardman Park. We were now training to be shoo-ins for the top seven on the high school cross-country team in the fall.

  “Nice game, Tess,” said Lexie.

  “You saw?” I asked.

  “Just the end,” Lexie replied.

  “So, what were you smiling about?” Marina asked.

  “I wasn’t smiling.”

  Lexie and Marina just stared at me.

  “Oh, that smile. Just thinking about the game.”

  Marina glanced over at Caleb, who was trying to juggle three footballs. “You know you want to tell us.”

  I glanced quickly over at Caleb to make sure he wasn’t paying attention. Then I leaned into Marina and Lexie and let it all out. “Okay, you’re right,” I said. “You guys are my best friends, so you should be the first to know. I think this is for real. We’re going—you know.” I wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence.

  Lexie looked at me impatiently. “Dancing?”

  “Bowling?” Marina asked.

  “Out!” I snapped. “We’re going out.” I lowered my voice. “Caleb is my boyfriend.”

  “That sounds official,” Marina said.

  “I want you to like him,” I said.

  Lexie gazed casually at the boys. “Well, I’ve never talked to him. But he looks all right from a distance.”

  Marina hugged me. “Just don’t forget about us.”

  Lexie still had her eyes on the boys. “Maybe I’ll get a closer look at all his friends.”

  “No,” Marina said, pulling her away. “We have to go.”

  “Okay. Wait one sec,” I said quickly.

  I walked over to Caleb, my now boyfriend, who had given up on juggling and was now doing something very unathletic with the palm of his hand and his armpit. I vowed to never hold his hand again.

  “You want to get some pizza?” he asked when he saw me.

  “Yes,” I said. “But I can’t. I have to train.”

  “For real?”

  “It’s important,” I said.

  “What’s more important than pizza with your team-mates?”

  “Running with my friends so we can be the best cross-country runners Pilchuck High School has ever seen,” I said with a smile.

  “Come on,” Caleb said. “You don’t need to go running. You just ran all over the field. You need pizza.”

  “When I get my mile down to seven minutes, I’ll eat pizza.”

  “Seven minutes…Is that good?

  “Good is not my goal,” I replied.

  “How come you’re now so serious?” he asked.

  “I’m not that serious.”

  “Compared to me you are,” he said shyly.

  “I really want to make the top spot on the team, and you want to win next week, don’t you?” I retorted.

  “Sure I do. I told you we got it.”

  “I know you think we can win. But do you want to win?” I said.

  Caleb held the football out in his right hand until it brushed against my left shoulder. “Trust me. I’m in it to win it. Whatever it takes.”

  “That’s better,” I said, too distracted by everything to make eye contact with Caleb. Behind him, I could see Lexie and Marina waving me over. “I gotta go. See you later.”

  “Bam,” he said.

  “Bam,” I said back, thinking we had the weirdest code ever for I like you.

  My mile that afternoon was 7:14, my best ever. I guess it was possible to turn raw emotion into speed. I didn’t even want to stop. I knew Lexie and Marina felt the same way. Except I wasn’t sure we were running toward the same thing. I was starting to think I needed more than a finish line for a goal. Maybe there was something bigger. I was a game away from being a part of the best flag football team in Pilchuck—and to me, that was pretty cool. After all, it wasn’t every day a girl had a chance to win a football championship.

  After the game, Nick, Dobie, and I headed to town for pizza. It was cool for mid-May. We walked along the river into a breeze that felt like winter when it hit the sweat on my T-shirt. Thick clouds rolled in front of the sun as we came within sight of the athletic fields behind Pilchuck High School. That fall, we would be starting there as ninth graders.

  Tessa would be there too. We had never been at the same school. I was pretty sure it was going to be great. We always had a lot to talk about. She made me laugh. I already knew she fit in with my friends. If we had class together, she might even let me copy her work. The bonus of having a smart girlfriend.

  “Look at that scoreboard,” said Nick. “Can you imagine our names on that screen? We’re going to be huge.”

  “You’re already huge,” said Dobie.

  Nick glared at Dobie through his glasses. “I was speaking metaphorically, stupid.” Nick wasn’t fat, but my brother Charlie said if Nick didn’t watch it, he would be, because all the muscle in his arms and chest would turn to flab.

  Dobie looked back at Nick. “Meta-what?”

  “It means I was exaggerating. They’ll explain it in summer school.”

  “Thanks for reminding me,” Dobie said, hurling a stone into the river. I’d been surprised when Dobie had said he wanted to play football in high school. He didn’t seem like the type to do an organized sport. Well, not until recently. But I was glad he still wanted to be a part of the team. My parents had told me, after Dobie had come to our house smelling like smoke, with his T-shirt down to his knees, that they would prefer it if I spent less time with him. But they were wrong. Dobie still had a good heart even if he now looked tough on the outside. My parents thought Nick was okay because his family went to our church.

  Nick went back to his daydream. “And starting at left tackle,” he said like he was the announcer introducing himself before a game, “the freshman…Nick Miller.” He finished with a fake cheer.

  “You are not going to start as left tackle as a freshman,” said Dobie.

  “In my dream, I am.”

  “I just want a spot on JV,” I said. “Anything is better than flag football.”

  “No sport that a girl can play should ever be called football,” Dobie said in agreement. “No offense, Caleb. I mean, Tessa is cool, but she wouldn’t last a second in a real game. Even though she’s got bigger biceps than most of the guys.”

  “She’s pretty fast too,” I said, replaying the image of Tessa bolting past the defense like they were standing still.

  “That’s why she’s a runner,” Dobie replied.

  The funny thing was, Tessa didn’t look like a runner. Runners were usually tall and lanky with incredibly long legs. Most people would think she was a soccer player. She had that low center of gravity. She never lost her balance. And Tessa’s speed didn’t come from stride. It came from horsepower. She just had an engine. Try to tackle her, and all you’d see was a head of long red hair racing by.

  I didn’t argue with Dobie about girls and football. There was no point arguing about something that would never happen. Besides, I mostly agreed with Dobie. Flag football was not real football. It was a fun way to get ready for tryouts this summer, but it wasn’t serious. I knew I’d told Tessa I was in it to win it, but winning the flag football championship game was like winning a fun water-gun fight.

  We were on the footbridge over the river when the sun broke through the clouds, lighting up the hillside on the other side of town. I knew Tessa was up there on the trails with Marina and Lexie. It was pretty cool that she could go all out in a football game and then crush a run like it was nothing. She just had a different gear. And she really liked to win. The firs
t time we ever hung out in a public setting, she went insane on the hoop shoot, just lit it up, crushing everyone who challenged her. How could I not like a girl like that?

  “Here comes summer,” said Nick, squinting into the sunshine.

  “So long, winter,” I added.

  “Goodbye to junior high,” said Dobie.

  —

  Aaron Parker was at Corner Pizza with Brian Braun. They were playing pool, and there were two girls watching them.

  Nick saw them first. “What should we do?” he asked as we walked up to the counter to order our slices.

  “Just be cool,” Dobie said to us, like we were about to do something embarrassing.

  “What does that mean?” Nick asked.

  “It means be quiet and don’t bother their game,” I said.

  “I can do that,” Nick replied.

  We sat down with our pizza and ate in silence. I felt like I was trying to behave in a fancy restaurant. I was afraid to make a weird noise or sip my soda or even move my chair. Not with Aaron, Brian, and two high school girls less than ten yards away. There was too much to lose.

  I had just stuffed the last of the crust into my mouth when Aaron came over to our table. He was chalking his cue stick. I thought he was going to ask us to leave, when suddenly a smile spread across his face. “What’s up, boys?” he asked, slapping our hands one at a time.

  When none of us answered Aaron, Brian jumped in. “You guys play some ball today?” he asked.

  “We had a football game,” Dobie explained.

  “We’re on a flag football team,” Nick added.

  Dobie glared at Nick, then said, “It’s no big deal. We don’t even take it seriously. I mean, if you can’t tackle, what’s the point, right?”

  “Actually, I learned more about playing quarterback in flag football than I did anywhere else,” Brian said. “The game moves fast. You gotta shift around in the pocket, find your receivers quickly. It’s no joke.”

  “For real,” Dobie agreed.

  “You on the team too?” Aaron asked me.

  “Yeah, I play a little of everything. I love QB, though.”

  “Good man,” Brian said approvingly.

  “You know Braun’s a senior this year,” Aaron said, pointing to Brian.

  “Think you’ll play in college?” I asked, imagining it was what Charlie would ask if he were here.

  “Hope so,” Brian answered.

  “The team’s going to need a new QB,” Aaron said. “You think you’re up for it?”

  “Definitely,” I said casually. I was doing everything I could do to stay cool. But it wasn’t easy. Not when two of the best football players in town were talking to me about being the next quarterback of Pilchuck High School. Maybe jumping off that bridge hadn’t been such a dumb idea after all.

  They went off to finish their pool game, but before they left the restaurant, Brian stopped as he got to our table. “Hit us up if you want to work out sometime. I’ve got some passing drills that are pretty good for accuracy. I can walk you through the playbook too.”

  “Later, fellas,” Aaron said to all of us.

  When they were gone, Dobie slapped the table. “Boys,” he said. “It’s official. WE. ARE. IN.”

  “In what?” Nick asked.

  “The circle, the club, the team, whatever,” Dobie answered. “Do you know how often varsity football players talk to eighth graders for no reason?” He threw his head back like he was going to howl, then jumped up. “This is so awesome. Caleb, we have to hit them up, soon, but not too soon.”

  “What about me?” Nick asked.

  “Yeah, yeah, all three of us,” Dobie corrected himself. “Cool?” he asked me.

  “Very cool,” I said.

  I sprinted home. I couldn’t wait to tell Charlie what had happened. He needed to confirm that this was for real—that Aaron and Brian had meant what they said.

  There was steak on the grill when I got home. Dad was brushing back smoke and flames as the meat sizzled, while Mom was boiling corn. I smelled biscuits in the oven.

  “How long until dinner?” I asked.

  Mom gestured to Dad. “Just waiting on the steaks.”

  I washed my hands and started setting the table. “Where’s Charlie?”

  “He had something to do,” Mom said.

  “What?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Was he at the shop today?”

  The “shop” was the aluminum siding company. My grandfather had started the business more than fifty years before. Over the years, the company had done the exteriors of half the houses in Pilchuck. Now they had seventeen employees and were still growing quickly. Mom reminded Dad of that whenever he complained about the sprawl that was eating up the open space around our house.

  “No,” Mom replied. “He hasn’t been coming in. Let’s not bring it up during dinner.”

  “Maybe he got a full-time job at the gym,” I said.

  “I don’t think so,” Mom answered.

  It was a drag that Charlie wasn’t home. He was never at the house much, even though he still lived here, but I had hoped he would be this time. I had to get this news off my chest. So I slipped back outside and sent a message to Tessa. My fingers trembled. It was a pretty killer feeling, having news like this to share with someone like her. I was on top of the world.

  —

  We sat down for dinner ten minutes later. My brother Luke led grace.

  “Tell me about football, Caleb,” Dad said.

  “We won,” I said. “On to the championship game.”

  “Ooooh,” said Luke. “The flag football championship. Do you get cupcakes if you win?”

  “Hey, a win’s a win,” Dad said. “I remember my freshman season. We lost our first ten games. I thought we’d never get one. Finally we ran into a team that was even worse than us, and we beat them. We didn’t care who they were. We were just happy to come out on top. Three years later we were playing for the state championship. But you know how that ended.”

  “Actually, I forgot from the other ten thousand times you’ve told us,” Luke replied.

  “They got pounded,” I said, smiling at Dad. “But they…”

  “Held their heads high because they knew they had left it all on the field,” Mom, Luke, and I said at the same time.

  “You can laugh,” Dad said, “but that’s a life lesson from a game.” He pointed his fork at me and Luke. “You’ll both find that out.”

  “Did you play quarterback today, Caleb?” Mom asked.

  “A little bit of everything,” I said.

  Mom smiled at me from across the table. “Was Tessa there?”

  “Well, yeah, she’s on the team.”

  Dad shook his head. “What next?” he asked.

  “Actually, she’s pretty good,” I said. “She caught the winning touchdown.”

  “Must have been some defense,” Dad said.

  “We wish we could be at your games,” Mom said apologetically. “If it wasn’t so busy at work, we’d be there.”

  “We’ll be there in the fall,” Dad said. “Fifty-yard line.”

  “You think they’ll build that new stadium?” I asked.

  “Not with my money,” Dad answered.

  “But you love football,” Luke said.

  “I like my money more.”

  “Well, congratulations, Caleb,” Mom said, bringing the conversation back to the game. “We’re very proud of you. I know you’re going to win next week too.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “It’s really not a big deal, though. We’re just having fun.”

  I meant it too. I never would have thought the outcome of a flag football game would matter. Boy, was I wrong.

  SATURDAY, MAY 21

  It was a QB scramble. Caleb was on the move, ducking and dodging tacklers, kicking up dirt and dust, breaking into a full sprint as the clock ticked down to thirty seconds…twenty-nine…I had done my part, throwing a block that had laid out a linebacker
. Now I was watching Caleb weave his way toward the end zone. If he had cut back inside on the ten, he would have scored easily. But for some reason he was running straight down the sideline, and he got his flag pulled from behind—three yards short of the end zone.

  We had twenty-eight seconds to move the ball nine feet. We should have been in the huddle, drawing up the next play. But Caleb was celebrating the previous play with Dobie and Nick. It was like they thought we had already won.

  “Hey!” I yelled. “We’re still behind. We haven’t scored yet.”

  Caleb smiled. “Relax, Tessa,” he said as we formed a circle. “We got this.”

  “Not yet,” I replied.

  Caleb was playing quarterback. Nick was blocking. He used his big body like a wall to protect Caleb while Caleb waited for me or for Dobie to get open. It would have to be a pass. There was no time to run the ball.

  “Forty-four eagle on two,” Caleb said with a steady voice that made me believe he was sure we were going to win the game. “Don’t look back until you’re in the end zone.”

  We clapped and broke the huddle.

  Forty-four eagle on two meant that after the snap count, I was supposed to run a slant pattern across the field. It was a timing route. By the time I looked for the ball, it would be in the air, so I had to turn my head at exactly the right moment. We had practiced the play a thousand times. All for this.

  I lined up in the slot. When the center snapped the ball, I darted through the defense and broke free as my feet crossed the thick white line in the grass. I was in the end zone with a defender chasing me. He would never catch me now. I whipped my body in the other direction, eyes searching for the ball, hands up at the ready to feel the smack of leather against my palms and the grip of my fingers. There it was, spinning toward me like a big, brown bullet. I was a heartbeat away from being a champion.

  And then.

  A heartbeat away was long enough for a perfectly thrown ball to bounce off a receiver’s hands and into the arms of a safety waiting two yards in front of them. Long enough for a game-winning touchdown to become a game-saving interception. Long enough to smash the dreams of a girl who had had one chance to be a football champion and had blown it. Victory would have been even sweeter than coming in first in the Pilchuck Scramble, because nobody had expected the winning catch to come from a girl. It would have been something special.