I sat by myself after the game. The last play flashed through my mind again and again: the ball spinning toward me before bouncing off my fingertips. My hands had let me down, and I had let my team down. I didn’t think I would ever get over it.
Caleb and Nick and Dobie were talking to some of the guys from the other team.
“You won this one,” Nick shouted to the defender who had intercepted the final pass. “But we’ll get you back this fall. When it counts.”
“We’ll be ready,” the defender called back.
“You better be,” Dobie added. “Today was just practice. A warm-up.”
“We weren’t even playing hard,” said Caleb.
Suddenly my grief turned into red-hot anger. Not at myself for letting the ball go off my hands, but at Caleb and Dobie and Nick for acting like this was all a joke. How could Caleb say they hadn’t even been playing hard? Was he kidding? What kind of athlete didn’t go all out in a championship game—even if it was just flag football? With five words, everything I thought I saw in Caleb disappeared. He wasn’t a great competitor with an infectious confidence. He was a clown wasting his own talent—and mine.
Then it got worse.
I watched as a man wearing shorts, a gray shirt, and a green visor walked up to Caleb, Nick, and Dobie. The man smiled and shook the guys’ hands one at a time. He handed Caleb a piece of paper before jogging away.
After he left, the three of them danced around like they had just won the lottery. Then Caleb came over to me. Strutting. “Check it out!” he said, handing me the sheet of paper. “Football camp!”
“Who was that?” I asked, holding the piece of paper but not looking at it.
“He’s one of the coaches for the high school football team. The, uh, defensive backs coach, or something like that. I can’t remember.”
“What did he want?”
“He told us we looked good out there and said we should come to a football camp for ninth and tenth graders. It’s in July. He said it’s like a warm-up for tryouts. Awesome, right?”
“Did he say anything about me?” I didn’t know what I expected. There was no reason a high school football coach would be interested in me. My entire gender was ineligible for high school football, and I had just dropped the game-winning pass. Maybe I just wanted to punish Caleb with an awkward moment.
“U-um, no,” Caleb stuttered. “He didn’t. But I could ask him if girls can go. Or maybe there’s a…”
Caleb stopped midsentence.
“You say cheerleading camp, you die.”
“You’re not a cheerleader,” he said. “You’re a wide receiver.”
“Not anymore,” I replied.
There was no better way to explain it to Caleb. Losing one flag football game was not the end of the world. And maybe if we had gotten blown out, I wouldn’t have been so upset. But that wasn’t what had happened. I would forever be stuck with the image of those final seconds of the last football game I would ever play, unable to ever make up for it.
—
Now every time I thought about the play, I couldn’t help wondering about football camp. I read more online. The first thing I saw was that all the pictures were of boys. That wasn’t surprising. But I also noticed that the rules didn’t say anything about girls. I clicked on a link labeled eligibility. It said you had to be entering ninth or tenth grade, live in Pilchuck, and have permission from a legal guardian. That was all. I went back to Google, typed girls playing football, and learned there were more than sixteen hundred girls playing high school football across the country, and some of them lived not too far from me. Also, there were more injuries in cheerleading than in football.
I closed my laptop with a mixture of nerves and excitement. Knowing that nobody (except my legal guardians) could stop me from signing up for football camp was a bit thrilling and also a bit crazy-scary at the same time. If I wanted to be a football player, I had to take the next step. Assuming I could convince my parents. All I needed to do was figure out how this would make me the successful daughter they had always wanted.
Tessa took the loss pretty hard. Too hard, if you ask me. It was just a game, even if it was the last one she would ever play. I figured Tessa was mostly mad at herself for not catching that pass. The thing was that while none of the rest of us liked losing either, we didn’t care that much. We knew the score, but to us it was really about getting ready for fall football.
Later that night I started to text her just to see how she was doing.
“Don’t do it,” said Charlie, passing by me on his way to the refrigerator.
Charlie was dressed in track pants and a golf shirt from the Pilchuck Athletic Club, where he worked part-time as a personal trainer. If I wanted to get in shape lifting weights, I would listen to Charlie. Dude was ripped. He knew it too. I also listened to Charlie when it came to girls.
“Don’t do what?” I asked. “You don’t even know what I’m doing.”
“You’re sending a text to someone who wants to be left alone.”
“I just want to ask her if she’s feeling better.” I was looking down at the half-written message on my phone, when it suddenly buzzed in my hands. It was a message from Charlie—sent from across the room.
It said, She isn’t.
I turned around to see Charlie shaking his head. “Delete it. Trust me.”
“What’s the big deal?” I asked.
“You know how it is, man,” he said. “Doesn’t matter if it’s death or sports, you don’t mess with someone when they’re grieving. Your job is to shut up and stay away. When she’s over it, you’ll hear from her. But you have to let her grieve.”
“Really?” I asked.
Charlie nodded. “Really. Let her grieve.”
“Who’s grieving?” asked Luke, walking into the kitchen wearing pajama bottoms, headphones, and no shirt. He found a bag of ham in the refrigerator and began dangling slices into his mouth.
“You are,” said Charlie.
“Why am I grieving?” Luke asked.
“Because you have a giant bruise on your arm.”
Luke stopped inhaling ham long enough to glance at his arm. He barely had time to say “No, I don’t” before Charlie popped him right where he’d been looking. “Gaaa!” Luke wailed. “That did NOT hurt.”
“Hey, are we still camping next weekend?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” said Charlie. “Dad’s driving us to the trailhead, and we’re hiking up to Bear Lake. Two-thousand-feet gain in four miles.” Charlie held his hand at a steep angle. “You guys better be ready.”
“I’m not carrying the bricks again,” said Luke. “I don’t get why we even bring bricks on a hike.”
“To keep the tent from blowing away,” said Charlie, like it was obvious.
“Can’t we just use stakes?” Luke asked. “Or rocks?”
“Bricks are better,” I said. “Besides, it’s a family tradition.”
“Tradition is important,” Charlie added.
Luke left the kitchen mumbling about the unfairness of it all. When he was out of the room, Charlie and I cracked up. We’d both had to carry the bricks. We hadn’t been lying about it being a family tradition, but it had nothing to do with the tent. It was just mean. Funny mean, but mean.
FRIDAY, MAY 27
The end of the game invaded my brain. It took control of my mind. During study hall on Tuesday, I read a chapter about World War I. When I got to the end, the only thing I could recall was the memory of losing by three points. On Wednesday, I lay awake trying to think about anything else. I listed my friends in alphabetical order, counted the states I had been to, and played a game of Scrabble in my head. (I lost.) I went for a run on Thursday, and even that didn’t help. I actually made up words to the beat of my feet hitting the ground. You. Lost. The. Game. That’s it. For life.
At school on Friday, football wasn’t exactly a hot topic at the girls’ lunch table. Lexie and Marina were into sports, like me, but they weren’t v
ery sympathetic or actually really interested in spending time discussing it. They didn’t even pick up on the fact that something was wrong, until I sighed sadly.
“Something wrong? Are you and Caleb in a fight?” Marina asked, barely looking up from her chemistry textbook. She was studying for her final exam.
“I can’t stop thinking about the game,” I said, relieved to say it out loud.
“What game?” Lexie asked.
“Our last flag football game,” I replied. “We were so close to winning. It’s killing me. I would do anything for another chance.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen,” Marina said. “I mean, unless you found a way to play football again. And wasn’t that just something you did for fun on a few Saturdays? Not like a real legit thing, was it?”
“I’m not even sure anymore,” I mumbled. The loss had really messed with my head. I was completely revealing how much I enjoyed playing flag football with the boys, something I never talked about in front of my best friends. I barely told them I played at all. “I’m never playing with those boys again. Did I tell you what happened after the game?”
“I’m guessing something gross, illegal, or both,” Marina replied. “I mean, except for your boyfriend, Mr. Perfect.” She smiled devilishly.
“I never said he was perfect.”
“Well, then what did he do?” Lexie asked.
“A coach from the high school football team asked them to go to some stupid football camp this summer.”
Lexie and Marina barely reacted.
“Is that bad?” Lexie asked.
“Yes!” I said. “Now their egos are even bigger. But the worst part is, they weren’t even mad about losing. They were laughing and talking about how life goes on, which I guess it does. But now Caleb, who is supposed to, you know, care what I think, is totally ignoring me.” I didn’t go into any details about what that meant, since you could technically have said I was ignoring him too.
“Kind of sounds like this isn’t really about football, Tessa,” Marina said.
“Then what is it about?” I asked.
“I think you just want someone to feel sorry for you,” Lexie said.
Deep down, I knew they were right. I hated the way the game had ended, and I was jealous that the boys would get to play football again. But what really bothered me was that nobody seemed to understand my pain.
“Anyway,” said Marina, “enough about football. In case you forgot, we are runners. With bright futures.”
“Destined for greatness,” Lexie added.
“We’ll make varsity for sure,” said Marina, finally closing the chemistry book. “Half of the cross-country team last year was seniors. Am I right, Tess?”
“Tess?” Lexie asked. “You with us?”
“All the way,” I said. “Fast and furious.”
Marina and Lexie continued to talk at warp speed about how the three of us were going to rock the cross-country team together. We would steal the show from the football team and become overnight legends. We’d be three champions winning state, ribbons hanging from our necks and trophies in our hands. All courage and speed and heart. Three amigas.
Deep down, I really wanted to mean it. As my best friends kept talking, I truly wanted to run cross-country with them, but a part of me also wanted to play football with the boys. I was kidding myself to think both things were possible. They weren’t. I realized I was going to have to choose between what everyone expected me to do and what I in my heart wanted to do. This thought was something completely new. What if I didn’t do what was expected of me? What if I played football? Was that something I really wanted? Or was it something I wanted because everyone didn’t think I would do it?
When I got home from school, Mom and Dad were at the dining room table in plain view of the front door. In the front hall was a stack of campaign signs, the kind that people put in their front yards. All the signs said the same thing: JANE DOOLEY FOR MAYOR.
Mom was pecking on her laptop, muttering to herself. Dad was on his phone, holding it a few inches from his face with his mouth open, like he thought it would never be his turn to speak. Still, from the way his eyes lit up whenever he was able to talk about why Mom was running, I could see he was enjoying the campaign. Ever since he had quit his job fixing computers at an insurance company so he could help Mom work in the political sphere, there’d been a new sparkle in his eyes. I wished he’d have any kind of sparkle when I told him news about school, or my friends, or sports.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m home. School was okay, thanks for asking.” I dropped my keys onto the counter and looked over at them. Now Dad was typing and Mom was on her phone. “There was an earthquake today,” I said casually. “The school was destroyed. I was the only survivor. Aren’t you happy to see me?”
No answer.
My family was not interested in my problems either.
“Tessa, is that you?” Mom asked.
“No, it’s just a burglar with keys to your house,” I said. “Please keep doing whatever you’re doing while I rob you.”
“Thanks, sweetie,” Mom answered. “We’ll be done soon.”
“We’re setting up interviews for next week,” Dad explained. “Your mom’s going to be on the news,” he added.
“You mean like that dog that rides a skateboard?” I asked.
“Yup,” said Dad. But not to me. It was finally his turn to speak on the phone. “Still here.”
I laced up my running shoes a few minutes later, grabbed an energy bar from the cabinet, and headed for the door. Before I left the house, I looked at my phone one more time. No messages.
And then someone knocked.
On Friday, I made plans with Nick and Dobie to play two-on-one football in Boardman Park after school. But I had another mission to accomplish first. I was going to stop by Tessa’s house. I had to see her. I needed to know that she wasn’t mad at me. It had been a week since I’d talked to her, and I couldn’t stand the idea of anyone being mad at me. Especially her.
When the school bell rang, I darted for the door.
But Nick and Dobie caught up to me.
“Caleb, wait up,” Nick called. “You heading to the park? We’ll walk with you.”
The hallway was filling up with people pushing and jostling their way toward the exit. Dobie and I stood flat against the lockers, but Nick had nowhere to hide.
“I’ll meet you at the park,” I told Nick and Dobie. “I have something to do.”
“What?” Nick asked.
“Just something,” I answered.
Dobie glanced at Nick, who exhaled dramatically.
“You guys have a problem?”
“Why don’t you just admit you’re ditching us for your girlfriend?” Dobie asked.
“And don’t pretend she’s just a friend,” Nick added, putting friend in air quotes. “We know the truth. Roy saw you guys holding hands outside of Pilchuck Market.”
“All right,” I said. “I guess, yeah, it’s more than friends. I don’t know exactly what you call it, though.”
“Just say it,” Dobie demanded. “Say what she is.”
“You already know,” I told him.
“We want to hear it,” Nick answered.
“Fine. If it’ll shut you up. Tessa is my girlfriend.”
“Congratulations,” Dobie said sarcastically. “I hope you two are very happy together.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Can I go now?”
“Okay,” said Nick. “But make it quick. You turned in your permission slip, right?” he asked.
“For football camp? Yeah. We’re good. I’m in.”
I jogged all the way to Tessa’s street. When I could see her house, I slowed down until I was sure I wasn’t breathing hard. If her parents were home, I didn’t want to look like some crazy guy who had run all over town chasing their daughter. Plus, I had to think about what I was going to say. My gut told me to say I was sorry, but then I realized I didn’t know what I was sorry f
or. Telling her I missed her, which was true, sounded like something I would say to my grandmother. In the end, I decided to go with whatever came out of my mouth.
Tessa’s house was half brick and half wood. It was set back from the street and partially hidden by two big oak trees that shaded the whole front yard, where her dog, Oreo, was currently sleeping with one eye open. Oreo blinked at me, then rolled onto his back. After stopping to scratch his chest, I walked up to the door. I blew on my hands for good luck and knocked.
A minute later, I was looking at Tessa.
“Hi,” she said.
She had on her yellow running shorts and a blue tank top. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail like it always was when she was going for a run. Anyone could have easily seen that that was what she planned to do next.
“Um, going for a run?” I asked.
Tessa nodded. “With Marina and Lexie. In Boardman Park.”
“That’s where I’m going,” I said.
“But you came here,” Tessa pointed out.
“Well, I mean, that’s where I’m going next. I came to your house first.”
“That’s nice,” Tessa replied.
We didn’t say anything for a minute. Over on the grass, Oreo rolled over with a snort. We both looked at him.
“Well,” Tessa said. “I gotta run.”
“Are you mad at me?” I finally asked.
Caleb seemed so confused. He obviously knew something was wrong but had no idea what it was. There was suffering in his brown eyes, and I had the power to make it go away. It was the right thing to do. I hoped if I was ever in his position, someone would do the same for me. So I told him the truth.
“I was mad at you because you weren’t mad at me,” I said.
“Why would I be mad at you?” Caleb asked, inching closer. “Because of the way the game ended? I don’t care about that.”
I gave him a little shove. “That’s what I mean. I wanted you to care.”
The Football Girl Page 5
