Sacked: A Novel (A Gridiron Novel Book 1)

by Jen Frederick

  Once he takes his seat, I give all the guys an apology. “I’m sorry for last week.”

  “No, man. That wasn’t you.” Jessie shakes his head vigorously, making his tight corn rows bounce. “You had that chick in your head. If it’s any one’s fault it’s—”

  I cut him off before he says anything too stupid, because Jessie’s a good linebacker and his replacement…not so good.

  “Was Ellie—” Fuck, it hurts to even say her name. “Was she on the field yesterday? Did she wear number fifty-five while my ass sat on a bench?” Jessie mouths no as I say it. “No. I stunk it up in the first quarter. I stumbled over my own feet like a newborn colt. That was me. I didn’t shed blocks. I let a weaker guy push me off the line. And I’m sorry for my play.” It’s important for my team to see me take responsibility, so when we go back to practice on Monday, they are as focused as ever.

  “When we go out on the football field, everyone there has practiced as much as we have. We win because we want it more than they do. We care less about the pain in our shins, our swollen fingers, and our bruised bones than we do about victory. Yesterday I let the vision of our success slip away and the win went with it. So I’m sorry, and I’m here to tell you it won’t happen again. From now on, from the first whistle to the last, I will not take a play off. I’ll focus on nothing but winning. I make that pledge to you now.”

  Hammer thuds his hand on the table, slowly, like a war drum.

  “Nothing but football from here on out,” he concurs.

  One by one each player makes their own pledges, and with each word and passing moment, we begin to reknit the spirit of the team. The heaviness that wore me down all last night and this morning begins to subside a little.

  “Now you guys need to accept my apology so I don’t have to keep running down all the shit things I did yesterday. There’s no reason to blame the girl I—” Love. I clear my throat, but the word I can’t say hangs out there like my fly is open and my dick’s flopping in the wind.

  Matty jumps in like a fucking superhero.

  “How early is too early for a dick pic?” He waves his phone.

  “No dick pics before ten.” Hammer scowls.

  “Is that what the donut blowjob site says?” I ask, a reluctant smile curving across my face. I sense another epic Hammer and Matty disagreement coming on, and damn if we don’t need it.

  Hammer nods. “I think I should write for that site. I read other articles and some of them are written by dudes.” He spits out the last word with disgust.

  “Why’s that bad?”

  “Because these guys aren’t using their power for good. They’re passing out advice to a bunch of horny women, but it’s all about sappy movies and what kind of noises girls should make in bed.”

  “What’s your suggested topics?”

  Hammer’s face lights up. “I’m thinking things like ‘Top ten reasons why swallowing is good for your health’ and ‘It’s okay to watch ESPN and have sex at the same time’ and ‘A threesome makes for better roommate relationships.’ Shit like that.”

  Heads nod in agreement around the table. “You got scientific proof of that?” I ask with a full-fledged grin. We all know he doesn’t.

  “Fuck, man, this site talks about using fruit and baked goods during oral. They don’t need scientific proof.”

  I stifle a laugh.

  “You’re not the hero we asked for, but the one we deserve,” Matty pronounces and the two exchange high fives.

  The team will be all right. Now I have to fix Ellie and me.

  •••

  Ace comes up to the apartment after I take a short run to work off the carbs and fat from breakfast.

  “Hey, man. I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to apologize for busting your chops earlier in the season. Obviously I have no place to talk.” I get him a beer which he takes gratefully. Matty’s watching television in the living room.

  “It’s no big deal. I shouldn’t sleep with Stella anyway.” He takes a couple long gulps of the beer.

  “Hey, if she’s the one for you, then I’ve got no quarrel.” If anyone told me that Ellie and I were a bad fit, I’d punch them in the mouth.

  He tilts his head back and I wait for him to spill whatever he’s here to talk about. We don’t mingle a lot—Ace and I—but he’s a decent guy, and I think he’ll make a good locker room leader when I’m gone. Matty will helm the defense and Ace the offense.

  “I’m here about Ellie.”

  His bald statement catches me off guard. I pause in the middle of reaching for a bottle of Gatorade. “What about her?”

  The door of the refrigerator swings shut. Ace rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not supposed to talk about this, but we both know I do a hell of a lot of shit I’m not supposed to do. Coach put a ban on her. Said if he saw her with any member of the Warriors team, her brother would get kicked off. He made some noise about kicking us off too, but I doubt he’s serious about that.”

  We’re five games away from possibly getting to the playoffs. No, he’s not benching either Ace or me. I rub my chin. “This is about Jack, isn’t it?”

  Jack didn’t play yesterday. Coach said he was inactive at the beginning of the game, and nothing more.

  “You know?” Ace leans against the sink. The sounds of the game come from the living room, punctuated by cheers or groans from Matty.

  “I suspected he had problems academically. I should've talked to him about it. I meant to, but Ellie asked me not to. So what happened, and how do you know about it, but I don’t?” I ask impatiently.

  “Jack and Ellie showed up on Tuesday. I was getting my arm iced.” Ace had taken a hard hit a week ago. “Ellie cheated for him. Using his access code to sign in and do some worksheets and midterm answers. The only good thing about it is that none of the work was graded.”

  “For that goddamn poli sci class,” I curse. Ellie had always acted evasive about Jack’s progress, and I chalked it up to protectiveness. She didn’t want me to know he struggled. As if I cared about that. But why freeze me out? “Why did Coach question you? He saw me put Jack on my list.”

  “Maybe he didn't see what name we'd traded. He only knew we had traded a name. Or, I think he wanted to see if I’d take responsibility for the team.”

  Ace had stepped up big time.

  “Holy shit.” I let loose a bitter laugh and squeeze my neck tight in one hand, hoping to relieve the tension that took root there. “Ellie and I talked last week about me declaring early. I fucking bragged to her that I didn't have anything to worry about because I didn't have any skeletons in my closet.”

  He presses his lips together. “She broke up with you so your statement would stay accurate.”

  “And I wouldn’t let it go. I hounded her, so she had to prove it to me. That’s what the business with Ty meant.” It’s a good thing the glass bottle is in Ace’s hand and not mine, because I would’ve have thrown it at the wall in frustration. Getting angry won’t solve anything. Information will. “What else did Coach say?” I demand. “I want to know everything.”

  Ace outlines Coach’s ban, word for word.

  “He said immediate family is outside the ban?”

  “Yes.”

  “In front of you and Brian Newsome?”

  “What are you thinking?” he asks suspiciously.

  I tell him exactly what I'm thinking.

  His eyes go wide in shock. “That's crazy, man.”

  I jut my chin out. "If someone said you could play ten years as an elite NFL quarterback if you would only jump across a cliff as wide as your wing span, would you take that chance even if you could fall and get broken from the attempt?"

  "Of course.” He scowls.

  "Then what I propose to do is the least crazy thing in the world."

  He leaves, shaking his head in skepticism. He must not love Stella, because if he did, he’d get it. Completely.

  •••

  Monday

  My first target is Matty.
If I get him on board, the rest of the defense will follow. Ace will work on the offense. He doesn’t understand, but he wants to win.

  Matty shoves away from the brick wall of Carter Hall. We’ve watched Ellie walk to all her classes today in between practice and our own classes. She’s got a lighter load now that she’s not taking two extra courses for her brother. How’d I miss that before?

  Matty digs his hands deeper into the pockets of his winter coat. I can tell by the tenseness of his shoulders he’s unhappy. “I don't like seeing you like this, man. You're like a fucking boomerang. She tosses you away, but you keep running back to her.”

  A captain’s relationship with his teammates is an emotional bond. I'd sawed a notch in it by letting my emotions affect my mental sharpness. We'd repaired it, but I have to step lightly or run the risk of damaging it again. Like Ellie said the day we first met, winning is about the head and the heart. Not so much the body.

  So I’m careful with my response. “When have I ever gotten discouraged by a setback? If you don’t sack the quarterback the first time, do you give up?” He shakes his head slowly. “Right, you keep going. It doesn’t matter if the guy on the line weighs a hundred pounds more than you and plays like the second coming of Gene Upshaw, that quarterback is yours. You dictate the play at the line of scrimmage even if it takes you the entire game. The whistle hasn’t blown for me. This thing between Ellie and me isn’t over.”

  “When will it be over?”

  “We will never be over.” I don’t raise my voice. I don’t say the words with any force, but there’s nothing I’ve ever said with more conviction. Matty recognizes that.

  He blows out a stream of air that turns white in the November chill. “I don't want to fall for any chick then, if that’s what it’s like.”

  It's my turn to look astonished. “You'll endure non-stop training and excruciating post game pain. You don’t mind cracked ribs, joint pain, or the bone deep bruises you have to treat with a motherfucking ice bath that’s so cold that your balls try to climb inside your asshole. You’re okay with all of that for one moment of triumph, but you won't suffer a few weeks of heartache to gain a lifetime of real happiness?”

  He looks uncertain. “I don't feel that way about anything but football.”

  I clap him on the shoulder. “That's because you haven't found the right one.” I shove his beanie over his eyes and walk toward my own class. Behind me I hear Matty’s footsteps.

  “You think there is a right one? For me?” His voice sounds halfway between hope and fear.

  I grin evilly. “Yeah, and I bet she wrings your balls, Iverson.”

  He drops his hand to cover his groin, but his face still shows interest. He’s on board, which means the rest of the guys will fall in line…except for possibly Jack.

  I nab him after film on Tuesday.

  “Hey, Campbell. Got a minute?”

  He pauses in the hallway outside the film room. The other offensive players brush by us. “Sure.” He doesn’t sound enthused.

  I get straight to the point. “Your sister’s number is disconnected. I need her new one.”

  “No, you don’t.” He turns to leave.

  I grab his arm and lower my voice. “Ace told me about your meeting. I don’t want to jeopardize your playing time. I just want to talk to her.”

  He jerks out of my grasp. “You think I fucking care about playing football more than I care about my sister’s wellbeing? Fuck you, Masters.”

  As he stomps away, I rub a hand through my hair. That didn’t go as I had planned. Jack might be someone I need to address later, after all the pieces are in place.

  I stake out the apartment and follow Riley to class on Wednesday morning instead of Ellie. “Riles, Ellie’s phone is disconnected.”

  “Are you following me? Because stalking is deemed a violation of the honor code. An honor code violation would mean you can’t play on Saturday, and gosh, wouldn’t that be terrible?” The expression on her face says that me being suspended would make her day.

  “I just want to talk to Ellie,” I coax.

  “Has your number changed?” she asks.

  Confused, I reply, “No.”

  “Then if she wants to talk to you, she can call you, can’t she?”

  Perhaps Riley doesn’t know about the ban, but before I can clarify things for her, she slips into her class.

  What had I said to Matty about not getting down in the face of defeat? Once again my words come back to slap me in the face. On Thursday I go back to Jack who ignores me as much as possible. Given that we play on opposite sides of the ball, watch different film, have different specialty coaches, it’s actually pretty easy for him to pretend I don’t exist.

  That is, it would be easy if I wasn’t constantly up in his business.

  “What do you want Masters?” he finally relents on Friday when I sit on the porch of his house and refuse to leave. Ace probably made him come out.

  “I want you to give me a chance to explain.”

  “Fine,” he says curtly. He jerks his chin upright to indicate I should start talking.

  “I screwed up, both on the field and off of it. I love her. I want to make this right with her.” Even after I confess this, he remains grim-faced and unforgiving. I don’t need his forgiveness, only his cooperation. I continue, “Ellie’s an adult. She needs to be given the chance to make her own decisions. You know she’d be pissed as hell if she thought you were making them for her.”

  Annoyance flickers in his face when I register that hit. “If she wanted to call you, she would.” He repeats the same excuse he gave me earlier that week.

  “We both know she isn’t going to do anything that jeopardizes your position or mine. She’s making a sacrifice for all of us, but she doesn’t have to do it alone. Give me a chance,” I plead.

  He looks in the direction of Ellie’s apartment and then back at me, weighing my words against her response. “I’ll give you one chance.”

  I jump up and pound him on the back. “Thanks, man. You won’t regret it.”

  “Don’t fuck it up.”

  “Can I do worse than I already have?” I half joke.

  This admission tugs a grin from him. “Probably not.”

  With Jack on board, Riley follows. We win on Saturday and then the next week and the week after, giving us a record of 10 and 1. Despite creeping up the polls, the wins don’t give me the same high.

  I spend the rest of my time skulking around campus, watching Ellie as covertly as possible, between lifting, practice, and games. I stay as careful as possible, because if I get her brother kicked off the team, she’d never forgive me.

  Watching her is painful and not the good kind of pain that precedes a wave of endorphins as you break into the next level. It’s a sharp, constant pain as if someone took a cleat and peeled back the skin over my chest. Now the wind keeps whipping past all my exposed nerves.

  Every time I see her it’s a reminder of everything I'm missing. Yes I missed fucking her crazy in her tiny bed. Or making out with her in all the stairwells and hollows on campus. I missed the warm feeling of her body next to mine. The little gasps she makes when I slide my dick in just the right spot. I was getting good at it too. But more than that I just miss her.

  I miss the sight of her bent head as she studies. The way she so precisely copies her notes from her notebook into her computer. How when she laughs all of her teeth show. How her eyes light up when we argue over players and teams. I miss her sharp insight into the game.

  It’s not easy to watch her without someone noticing me. Even with my winter coat and beanie, there’s always another student who calls out my name and wants to congratulate me on how well the Warriors are doing.

  But I can’t stay away from her. If I see her, I think, then she’s still mine. What I told Matty has become the anthem of my life now. Ellie and I will never be done. Our story is a forever one.

  I just need to get everyone on that same page with me, including
her.

  35

  Ellie

  Week 13: Warriors 10-1

  “Broomball, Ellie?” Jack asks with disapproval when he picks me up from the ice rink where I practice with my new intramural squad. It’s mostly the Horny Toad softball team with a few others.

  “I played eight weeks of softball and came away with only a skinned knee,” I remind him. He’s still worried I’ll get hurt, but nothing could be more painful than losing Knox. I didn’t realize I’d feel this way, like a hollowed out tube of a person. I’m skin and bones, but underneath it’s one big tumbleweed blowing around an empty wasteland.

  He grunts his disagreement, but doesn’t say another word about it. Smart, because I’m not changing my mind.

  It’s been three weeks since the loss. Three more games and three more wins. Their record stands now at ten and one, with one regular season game left. As long as they win on Saturday, they’ll play for the conference championship. The Warriors have moved up the charts to number six. Is it bad to hope for the other teams to lose? Maybe, but I cheer for it anyway.

  Things worked out okay. Jack is back playing. I’ve barely seen him because he’s spent so much time re-doing the worksheet answers. The professor let him do an oral presentation, but the university is making him take a course over winter break and then during the summer. He’s not thrilled about it.

  I got a job waiting tables at Buster’s, and they all love me because I volunteered to work double shifts over Thanksgiving. I have no plans to go home. I’m not even sure I’m welcome at home.

  I’m not making much money beyond rent, and I can see that if I want to finish my degree, I will need a second job. But having money of my own makes me feel independent in a way I hadn’t realized I needed.

  I miss Knox every day. Sometimes I imagine I see him out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn it’s another student. It’s hard to watch the Warriors, but I can’t keep away. Riley refuses to watch with me. She uses her business as an excuse, but I think she’s mad at Knox and Jack.