by Tim Green
Troy’s stomach was rumbling by the time Seth appeared, giving them both a thumbs-up.
“You looked great. Honestly? We are gonna beat these guys!”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
TATE WASN’T GOING TO get to see Summit’s opening game.
This upset Troy, but he certainly understood. Tate’s mom had purchased a ticket for her to fly out to San Diego so that she could visit her father in the hospital over the weekend.
After school on Friday, Chuku’s dad picked him up from school to have a special pregame meal of grits, eggs, and collard greens doused in hot sauce, something his father did before his own games. Troy waved good-bye, then got into his mom’s car to help drop Tate off at the airport.
Troy’s mom checked Tate’s bag for her and got her ticket at the curbside check-in. Troy stood with Tate, watching, nervous about the first game of the season.
“You sure you’re ready?” Tate asked him in a low voice.
“Of course.” Troy grinned and hugged her. “Good luck with your dad.”
“He’ll be okay. He has to be.”
After Tate was safely with the JetBlue representative who would help her get to the gate, Troy and his mom got into the car and pulled away. His mom kept both hands on the wheel and she sighed heavily. “You sure have to be thankful for what you’ve got.”
“Is her dad going to be okay?” Troy asked. “Tate thinks so.”
His mom glanced at him. “They really don’t know, Troy. Say a prayer, though.”
Troy did that, then turned his mind to the night ahead. As much as he tried to put football into perspective with something like Tate’s father and the accident, he just couldn’t make himself feel as if the game they were going to play was any less important. He had so much hope riding on Summit’s football season that it felt like a life-or-death situation.
His mom left him outside the locker room and disappeared into the stands. Troy saw Chuku coming and waited so they could go in together.
They bumped fists. “How were the eggs and grits?”
“Dawg, you don’t know what you’re missing. My mouth’s on fire and I’m about to do the same thing to that football field.” Chuku pointed toward the field. “Watch out, I’ll be burning it up.”
“Nothing like a little confidence,” Troy said.
“Nothing like a lot.”
Together, they changed and came out with the team. A warm breeze blew across the field. The sun nestled down into the treetops, promising night and mosquitoes. Fans started to fill the bleachers and two different television crews spilled out of their trucks and down onto the sidelines. People wanted to see if Seth Halloway and Troy White were for real.
Troy was surprised when he saw Ty and Thane up in the stands. Part of him was proud that his All-Pro cousin would come to the opening game, but Troy still resented Thane. He knew if they lost tonight, it could be—in part—because of Thane. But when Troy saw them looking his way, he could only wave and smile because he sure wasn’t going to let them know how much it bothered him. It made him even hungrier to do well, to show them both that Troy and Seth didn’t even need them to win.
They waved back, and that’s when Troy saw Mr. Bryant talking to the tall man Troy had seen on the field the day he arrived. The man wore a suit, which was a strange way to dress for a Friday night football game, but Troy didn’t give it a second thought. His mind was churning with all the excitement of the game.
Troy was warming up with the rest of the team when the Lawton bus arrived. The Lawton players marched like a small army down onto the field in their white uniforms. Lawton circled the field, then ran in two columns straight through the Summit team as they were stretching their hamstrings.
Seth called Summit into a big huddle after the warm-ups. His red face twitched and twisted with rage. “Did you guys see that? They ran right through your warm-up? That’s like spitting in your face.”
One of the older players in the back spoke up. “They always do that, Coach.”
“Not anymore they don’t,” Seth snarled. “Not after tonight. They run through our warm-up? We are gonna run through their world. We are gonna stomp them so hard they’ll be wearing their butts for hats. Now get in here and give me three wins because that’s what we are going to do. It’s a new day and it starts here, tonight.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
THE TEAM PUT THEIR fists in. Troy looked over at Chuku’s face. His eyes were crazed and his mouth a sneer.
Seth shouted, “One, two, three . . .”
“WIN! WIN! WIN!”
They broke off and finished their pregame routine, throwing, catching, blocking, form tackling, and finally running through a couple of practice plays. Troy could barely catch his breath. He’d played in big games before, but that was with a bunch of kids. Surrounding him now were monster-sized players, some who could bench-press three hundred pounds, some with breath and body odor like ogres. Nothing felt like this. On the other end of the field, the Lawton team chanted in perfect time. They not only looked like an army, they sounded like one.
While Reed ran a couple of plays with the second-team offense, Troy studied the opposition. Someone brushed up alongside him.
“They sure make a lot of noise.” It was Chuku, also staring at their opponents.
“Big, too.” Troy couldn’t help marveling at the size of the Lawton defensive line.
“I got a little noise for them.” Chuku turned his backside toward the other team and let one rip.
Troy giggled, but with his nerves jangled as they were it didn’t make him feel any better. After the national anthem, Chance Bryant and Reed went out for the coin toss. Summit won. Troy’s heart rammed up into his throat and struggled like a rat caught in a trap to spring free. They’d be on offense to start the game. Troy looked over at Coach Sindoni, who gave him a thumbs-up. The kickoff team surrounded Seth. They held their hands up high and chanted: “WIN! WIN! WIN!” With a single cry, the cluster broke apart and they flooded the field.
Chuku returned the kickoff, but got only ten yards before a group of Lawton players buried him. Chuku bounced up out of the pile and swung a fist in the air. Troy and the offense swarmed onto the field. Galbato and Bryant flanked him like two towers and they huddled up.
Chuku wedged into the huddle and hooted at them all. “Come on! Let’s get these bums!”
Troy felt a strange calm wash over him. He called the play, a rollout pass, deep to Chuku. For an instant, he wished for Ty, knowing that with two speedy receivers, the choice of where to throw would be so easy. He pushed that from his mind, broke the huddle, and approached the line. The noseguard looked up at Troy with a red sweaty face, growled, and spit. He made Big Nick Lee look not so big. Troy glanced out at the defensive ends. They were massive, and he knew they’d be gunning for him, one on one side, one on the other.
“Hey!” The shout came from one of the Lawton linebackers. Troy couldn’t even be sure which one. “You guys got an eighth grader playing quarterback! You stink, Summit!”
Troy took the snap and started to roll. His line crumbled in front of him. Chuku shot down the field. The safety rolled over the top, double-teaming Chuku, so Troy had to wait. Ty flashed through his mind—he could be running free if only he were on the other side. A whisper of sickness passed through Troy at the image of his speedy cousin just sitting in the stands, watching. Useless.
Before Troy could launch the ball, the right defensive end pummeled him into the turf. As the pile cleared, Galbato reached down with a giant mitt and helped him to his feet. The big man clapped Troy on the back. “We’ll get them. That one was on us, Troy. That was on us.”
Galbato pounded his own chest with a fist.
Before Troy could even catch his breath, Coach Sindoni signaled the next play from the sideline. It was a mirror image of the first play, only running it to the other side so that Levi was running deep. If Coach Sindoni was right, then the safety would roll over the top of Levi, and Chuku would be open on the
back side of the play.
“Look for Chuku!” Coach Sindoni shouted through cupped hands.
Troy gave a nod and dipped into the huddle, knelt, and looked up at Chuku. “You’re gonna be open on the post.”
“Watch me walk in backward.” Chuku showed off his brilliant smile. “Killer Kombo.”
“Okay, same play, going left this time.” Troy glared at Chance, his left tackle, not a boy but a young man four years his senior and nearly a hundred pounds bigger. “You get that guy, you hear me? Don’t miss him, Chance. I need four seconds, that’s it. Can you give me four?”
Troy surprised himself with the tone of his voice, and he could tell by the looks on his linemen’s faces that he had surprised them as well.
Chance grunted. “I got him.”
Troy broke the huddle and approached the line. The defenders were pointing at him and jeering.
“Someone change that kid’s diapers, will you?” The noseguard chortled.
“Coming for you again!” the Lawton defender who’d pummeled him shouted from his spot on the end.
“Not if I get him first!” the other end shouted. “Gonna send that little boy home to his momma!”
Troy ignored them. He checked the secondary. He saw cover three and knew it meant something. It didn’t matter. It was a simple play—Levi up the sideline to draw off the free safety, Chuku cutting into the post from the back side. Simple. He wished it were Ty—that would make the play so much more certain—but Levi would have to do.
Troy shouted out the cadence and took the snap. He spun and rolled left. The line bent but didn’t break. No one in his face, but the left end had Chance Bryant on his heels, lifting him and running him back into the backfield. Troy head-faked outside, then ducked back inside his tackle. Chance ran the end past him. Troy kept going toward the sideline. He stopped suddenly, set his feet, pump-faked to Levi, then launched the ball into the post, trusting Chuku to be there.
As the ball left his hand, the end grabbed him from behind and swung him into the air.
The world spun.
In that fraction of a moment, Troy knew something bad was about to happen, and he thought of Ty again.
Just sitting there.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
THE CROWD ROARED.
Troy hit the turf and bounced like a toy. Pain shot through his shoulder.
Big Nick Lee lifted Troy to his feet. Troy winced, but bottled up a gasp.
“You good?” Big Nick Lee grinned and sweat glazed his swollen cheeks.
“Good,” Troy said. It was his left shoulder. He didn’t need it to throw. He only had to stand the pain.
The other linemen swarmed him, pounding his back so that they propelled him down the field toward where Chuku stood in the end zone with his arms outstretched. The excitement helped Troy push the pain to the back of his mind. It was his first varsity touchdown.
“You got lucky on that one, punk!” a Lawton defender shouted.
The right defensive end tried to get in front of Troy. “You’re going down, junior. You won’t make it through this game.”
Big Nick Lee shoved the defender, who shoved him back until a referee stepped between them both. Troy soaked up the cheers. Chuku hugged him and they both jogged off to the sideline. Seth wrapped his arms around Troy and lifted him off his feet. Troy winced.
“You okay?” Seth wore a look of concern.
Troy nodded. “Banged my shoulder. I’m fine.”
“Maybe have Emily Lou look at it. Ms. McLean!” Seth waved the trainer over, then turned away to focus on the field.
Ms. McLean asked Troy what happened.
“When they threw me down.” Troy pointed to his shoulder.
Ms. McLean felt up under his shoulder pad.
“Ah!” Troy flinched.
The trainer nodded and put him through a series of tests in which she asked him to hold out his arm and resist her pushing it one way or another. Sometimes he could hold strong. Other things made his arm flop like a dead fish and he growled in pain.
“I think it’s a slight shoulder strain,” the trainer said.
“Slight?” Panic chocked Troy. It didn’t feel slight. “What does that mean?”
She shrugged. “It’s your AC joint. There’s nothing you can do. If you can take the pain, you can play. It’s not a separation or anything. It won’t get any worse.”
Troy heaved a sigh of relief.
“It’s gonna hurt, though.”
“I’m okay,” he said.
“It’s probably gonna get worse before it gets better.”
Troy nodded that he understood. He was playing with the big kids now, the men. He knew what he had to do. He thanked the trainer and walked away.
The Summit kicking team missed the extra point and the crowd went flat. Troy grabbed a cup of Gatorade and found himself standing next to Seth on the sideline. It was time to play defense. Summit kicked off. The ball landed short. A Lawton player returned it, and ended up close to the fifty. Troy watched the Lawton offense take the field. He knew Seth would love it if he could read the offense and tell him the plays.
He watched Lawton and tried to absorb the personnel grouping they sent onto the field. It looked like two tight ends and two backs. He watched as they ran the ball off-tackle for seven yards.
“You gotta fill that, Reed!” Seth shouted at the top of his lungs.
Troy felt only the smallest of pleasures, even though Reed got yelled at good. The Summit defense needed to hold. If they did, it would take some pressure off him and the rest of the offense.
Down the field Lawton drove the ball, running left, right, and center. They threw one pass, a short crossing route that Reed broke up and could have intercepted.
“His hands stink.” Troy meant to say it to himself, but Seth heard.
“That was a tough catch,” Seth said. “Hey, I see that look in your eye. You got anything for me?”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
TROY LOOKED OUT AT the field. His shoulder throbbed with pain.
He willed his football genius to kick in so he could figure out what Lawton would do next. They came to the line and ran a sweep to the weak side.
Nothing. Troy saw nothing. He probed his shoulder, wondering how it would hold up in the game, then realized that Seth was looking at him.
Troy huffed. “It takes time sometimes. I’ll let you know.”
Part of him was annoyed with Seth for pestering him. He was the quarterback. He just threw a touchdown pass. Wasn’t that enough? Why should he have to read the other team’s offense for them to win? Let Reed and Tomkins earn their keep.
And still, he tried.
But nothing happened. Whether it was the pain in his shoulder or the frustration, Troy just didn’t feel it. He didn’t see it. Nothing happened, and after a couple of series, he shut it down, refusing to waste his energy and focus on that. He was a player. He needed to play, and that’s what he did. He threw. He ran. He ducked and dodged and made things happen like an All-American.
The problem was that for every score Troy engineered, Lawton returned the favor. It was a back-and-forth game, with both offenses having a field day.
The one thing Troy’s team did better at was extra points. After Summit missed the first kick, Seth chose to go for two after every touchdown that followed. Troy completed passes on five of the next six extra-point tries, earning two points instead of the one they’d get for a kick. Late in the fourth quarter, Summit had a 52–48 lead. But with seventeen seconds left, Lawton scored a touchdown to make it 54–52. Instead of kicking the extra point, Lawton went for their own two-point conversion. Lawton’s big fullback carried the ball up the middle, plowing right over the top of Grant Reed and giving Lawton a four-point lead, so that a Summit field goal wouldn’t be enough. Troy would need a touchdown to win.
Seth grabbed Troy’s face mask and pulled him close. “You got to do this. This is it. It all starts here, Troy. We can win this thing. You can win it.”
“Stick it in your pants,” Coach Sindoni said. “Three plays. Use them all. We’re not going for the end zone right away. They won’t expect us to work our way down the field. They’ll leave the underneath stuff open, and if we execute it right, we can do it. Tell Levi to get out of bounds, then use our last time-out after the Y seam.”
Troy took the card, looked at the plays, and stuffed it into the waistband of his pants. He bumped fists with his coaches and jogged out onto the field. In the huddle, he told Levi to make sure he got out of bounds at the end of the play to stop the clock so they could huddle before the second play.
“You don’t get out of bounds, we lose.” Troy held Levi in his gaze before he called out the play to the others.
At the line of scrimmage, the Lawton noseguard snarled up at him. “You’re dead meat, little boy. Totally dead.”
“You’re the meat,” Nick Lee growled as he gripped the football. “Hamburger brains.”
Troy barked out the cadence, took the snap, dropped three steps, and fired. Levi did a quick out, caught the ball, and surged up the sideline for seventeen more yards before getting out of bounds. The crowd loved it. Troy didn’t have time to celebrate. He gathered his guys in the huddle and called the second play. During the game, Summit’s only running back, Jentry Hood, had scored two touchdowns, but Troy had thrown for the other five and he could see in his teammates’ eyes that they believed in him.
“Spencer, we got one time-out,” Troy said. “I’m going to hit you right away, then you get up that seam as far as you can. We’ll call time-out and still have time for two more plays. Green Ghost Twenty-Two Y Seam, on two. Ready . . .”
“BREAK!”
Troy took the snap, fired the pass, and Spencer got them twenty yards. Troy called a quick time-out. They were on Lawton’s twenty-seven-yard line. Two seconds remained on the clock.
