The two of them glared at Jess scornfully. Why? She hadn’t done anything to them. Were they mad that she existed? They sure looked mad that she existed.
She wondered, not for the first time, if she’d done something to upset Coach Rex and that’s why he’d decided to make her co-captain for this game or if he actually considered this anything other than a subtle but potent form of punishment.
Hillcrest won the coin toss and decided to receive, which meant Jess would be the first person to touch the ball to start off. There was no mystery in what would happen when she did, but she still felt adrenaline surge through her extremities as she jogged onto the field with the rest of the special teams.
Meanwhile, Hillcrest seemed in no hurry to take its position on the other side of the field, which meant Jess was left with too much time on her hands to resist glancing into the crowd again. She couldn’t help it; her eyes fell on more homemade signs. Except these weren’t horrible.
Loud crowd for McCloud!
Kick ass like a girl!
The Mexicans Can!
Everyone she knew was counting on her. The smell of fresh-baked yeast rolls surfaced in her brain, and she had to push it aside. That life wasn’t in the cards for her. But it didn’t stop her from wanting it.
And just as she thought that, she spotted, toward the front of the stands, a sign with a big #7—her jersey number—and underneath it, “It’s good!” But more importantly, below the sign grinned a face Jess could’ve recognized from a mile away. Miranda. Her best friend hated football so much, but here she was.
A blend of gratitude and guilt clouded Jessica’s vision. Miranda would understand if Jessica just wanted a normal life, right? They could buy houses next door to each other and raise their kids together without anyone bothering them. Jessica’s life would never again accidentally overshadow her best friend’s, and they would finally have time for each other.
The ref blew the whistle.
Jess sighed and tried to push that desire from her mind.
It was game time.
“We can do this,” shouted Coach Rex at halftime, though it was clear even he was having a difficult time believing it. “Teams have come back from bigger deficits than thirty points down at half.”
“It would take a miracle,” grumbled Colton.
Then slowly heads began to turn Jess’s way.
Shit. “What?”
Though no one seemed eager to say it, she knew what they wanted from her. It was something she could give them, too, if only she could convince herself she wanted it.
Sacrifice is the worst.
DUH. IF IT WAS FUN, IT WOULDN’T BE SACRIFICE.
Everyone was still looking at her. Damn. The impulse to pass along the divine spoiler was immediately stomped upon by the fear that maybe she wouldn’t be able to change her own mind about what she wanted. Maybe they would end up losing. And it would be all her fault. “I can kick as many field goals as you need,” she said lamely. It was the one thing not even her own unfortunate reluctance could manage to derail.
Quentin’s wide-eyed expression made it clear that what he was about to say might cross a line. “But can you … you know.” He glanced up toward the ceiling.
She felt her face grow hot under all the attention, and she was about to respond—with what, she hadn’t decided yet—but Chris saved her the trouble.
“Guys, we can’t just rely on Jess. We’re a team. If we’re really going to ask Jess to call in a favor for our game, we don’t deserve to win.”
A few of the players looked away from her, down toward the floor, properly shamed. Chris had a point. But at the same time …
Shit. Maybe it’s time to grow up. Leap and the net will appear, but only because I put it there and have no reason to believe it will suddenly disappear. Did she have a net? Well, there was Chris, her mom, Miranda and Mrs. Thomas …
She looked around the locker room.
Quentin would be there for her too. And most likely Colton, Romeo, and Eddie, even after they headed off to college.
Probably not Jack Dungee. He was kind of a dick.
But Coach Rex and Coach Patterson and Coach Griffin would have her back as usual. All of that was clear enough.
So even if they won the game and the world erupted into a frenzy of chaos and animosity around her, she had no reason to believe that her net would suddenly disappear.
What am I thinking? The world is already in a frenzy of chaos and animosity around me.
She inhaled deeply and decided to leap and hope that she could pull it together in time to change the outcome in the second half. There were just too many people she didn’t want to let down.
“We’re going to win.” She said it plainly, without any flair or gusto, but she could immediately feel the mood shift in the circle of musty bodies. “I–I know we’re going to win.” Then she added dryly, “Oh, uh, spoiler alert.”
“All right,” Quentin said slowly, his eyes still glued to Jess. Then, more enthusiastically, “All right!” He clapped his hands together and that seemed to break the spell. Others began to slap their hands together and grunt excitedly, too.
YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE TOLD THEM.
What?!
THEY’RE GETTING COCKY. YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE TOLD THEM.
But … does this change things?
OH YEAH.
No! But why? Can’t you make it happen anyway?
DUH. BUT COCKINESS DOTH NOT PLEASETH ME.
What can I do?
GO BACK IN TIME AND UNDO SAYING IT.
Wait. Can I do that?
OF COURSE NOT.
He was being His unhelpful Self again. But she needed to fix this, and fast. So she blurted, “Actually, we might not win.”
The conversation had shifted back to strategy during the span of her conversation with God, and her announcement took a moment to land.
Chris was the first to respond. “Huh?”
“I just, um, got Word that we might not win.”
Chris was confused, and understandably so. “You got word … when?”
“Just now. He said don’t get cocky.”
Eddie tilted his head to the side. “He … ?”
“Dammit. God. God just told me that he doesn’t like it when people get cocky and you guys seemed to get cocky when I told you we’d win.”
“Shit, is He going to smite us all?” asked Romeo, ducking down and shielding the top of his head with his arms.
Jess closed her eyes and held out her hands to calm the room. “No, he’s not going to smite anyone. Just, um, just go out there and play your best and maybe we’ll win.”
“I’m so confused,” Eddie whimpered.
“So let me get this straight,” said Quentin, “we should just do what we were going to do in the first place?”
“Exactly!” Finally someone got it.
“O-kay,” said Coach Rex slowly. “Well, on that note, we better get back on the field.”
The crowd cheered deafeningly as the Mexicans headed out again after halftime, and Jessica was surprised by how much the support actually buoyed her dampened spirits. She had to find a way to make herself want to win. Was such a thing possible, consciously changing what you wanted?
Her eyes found Greg again in the crowd. He looked satisfied, no doubt because of the atrocious score. A Mooremont loss would only validate his own beliefs, or lack thereof.
It might actually be worth throwing the rest of my life into chaos if I can wipe that smug grin off his face, she thought.
She jogged over to the Mooremont bench, which was closest to the parking lot, and that’s when she noticed the small group of adults gathered outside the gate behind the end zone, wearing white and holding up signs as they chanted words that Jessica couldn’t make out from this distance through the crowd noise.
Jimmy, with his slender frame and distinctive swagger, was easy enough to pick out among the white blob. Even from this distance, he was handsome for his age and radiated charisma that
left her wishing she could still like him, that he hadn’t gone so far out of his way to leave her no choice but to be his enemy.
The parking lot’s automatic lights switched on above them as the sun finally dipped far enough below the horizon to trigger it, and Jess groaned as Jimmy paused in his pacing to extend his arms up to the heavens and declare who-knew-what. Jimmy was an opportunist, if nothing else, and the dramatic lighting punctuated his statement, whatever it was. Jess hoped it was something in Latin, so that only his followers might understand it.
If she convinced the world she was just a normal girl with a talent at kicking field goals, wouldn’t that completely ruin Jimmy’s claim to piety? Maybe not entirely, but she suspected it would cause him real problems, which was definitely a con for winning.
Chris stepped between her and the protestors, blocking out not only the sight of Jimmy and his posse, but also the light under which they all stood. Her eyes rapidly adjusted as she looked up at him, his face in shadows, silhouette backlit to create a fuzzy aura around him. “Fuck ’em,” he said.
“Yeah. Okay.”
He put his arm around her shoulder, and she didn’t even mind that it might raise questions. It felt amazing to be so near to him.
Fuck ’em.
Romeo was able to run the kick-off back to the thirty, which gave them decent field position to start the second half.
“Go get it,” she said to Chris as he pulled on his helmet and jogged out onto the field.
Please, God, don’t let this be an interception.
SINCE YOU ASKED NICELY.
Perhaps Jess’s halftime talk had done more than simply confuse everyone. Coach Rex, at least, seemed to feel confident enough in his play calling, because first down was a Hail Mary toward the end zone. The ball left Chris’s hand in a perfect spiral, and Jess could feel the air sucked from the stadium as the crowd held its breath.
Quentin caught the ball on the Hillcrest two, and his momentum carried him in for a touchdown.
The crowd exploded with shock and jubilation.
Jess wanted to celebrate, but she felt dirty.
You didn’t have to do that.
OBVIOUSLY.
But Chris can do it by himself. He doesn’t need your intervention.
AGREE TO DISAGREE.
Jess plastered a smile on her face so that no one would guess what she was actually feeling, which fell somewhere between crushing guilt and exhilaration.
Don’t you have better things to do?
SURPRISINGLY, NO.
Jess sighed and jogged over to Coach Rex just as the offense came off the field to make way for the kicking unit.
“Go for two,” she shouted to him above the roar of the crowd, holding up two fingers.
He looked at her like she’d just spoken in tongues. Then he nodded. “If you say so.”
He held up two fingers to Chris who appeared stunned but turned around and barked orders at the offense to line up.
Fine. Chris needs your help. I’m humbled by Your glory. Whatever. Please let this work.
IT ALMOST SEEMS LIKE YOU WANT TO WIN.
It almost feels that way, too.
When the ball was hiked to Chris, he handed it off to Romeo who easily ran it in for two.
Rex turned to Jessica and gave her a big thumbs up. She smiled back at him.
Yep, this felt like cheating.
Chris jogged off the field and headed straight to Jess.
“That was you.” Not a question. But not an accusation either, so that was good.
“What was me?” she asked, then she jogged onto the field to kick off before he had a chance to respond.
When she came back, Chris picked up the conversation where it’d left off. “It felt different. I was aiming for Jordan on that first pass, not Quentin. The ball came out of my hand the wrong way.”
She risked a glance up at him. “Are you mad?”
“What? Hell no. That was awesome.”
“Oh. Okay.” She returned her gaze to the field before turning back toward him. “Do you think I should keep asking for help?”
“Uh, we’re down twenty-two points. Yeah, you should keep asking for help.”
“It’s not … I don’t know, cheating?”
He opened his mouth, then shut it again before speaking.
Hillcrest ran the ball for twelve on their first down.
“No,” he said, “definitely not cheating. God makes the rules, so there’s no way He can break them, right?”
I LIKE THE WAY HE THINKS.
Hillcrest ran the ball again, but this time Marcus Mason, the biggest defensive lineman on the Mexicans, flattened the poor running back when he hit the line of scrimmage.
“Oh shit!” Quentin hollered from nearby.
Oh shit indeed.
The clock stopped as the ref blew the whistle and motioned for the trainers to come onto the field.
“He’s fine, right?” Chris asked hesitantly.
HE’LL SURVIVE.
“He’ll survive,” Jess replied.
Chris grimaced. “That’s not especially reassuring.”
“Nope. Not at all.”
Once the player was carted off the field, the Hillcrest Hilltoppers lined up for second down.
Jess was almost afraid to ask for more help.
But she didn’t need to, or rather, it likely wouldn’t have made a difference what she asked for, because He seemed to get it in His head that Hillcrest was going down.
When the Hilltopper quarterback released the ball for a long pass on second down, the football lurched forward two feet before dropping straight down to the ground like it’d hit an invisible brick wall.
Please, could you be a little less obvious? They’re going to think I’m doing this with my Antichrist powers.
DO YOU WANT TO WIN OR NOT?
Yes?
I AM NOT CONVINCED.
Once the refs were able to peel off the layers of defensive linemen from the Hillcrest running back on third down and the punt took a sharp left turn and shot out of bounds, the Mooremont defense and special teams pushed through their confusion to celebrate a good stop. Chris took one last look at Jessica, mumbled, “Here goes,” and headed out onto the field.
Jess made the mistake of looking over toward where the protestors were gathered and saw that they’d grown in numbers.
By the two-minute warning at the end of the fourth, through a series of ham-fisted divine interventions, the Mooremont Mexicans only trailed the Hillcrest Hilltoppers by two. The Mexicans had the ball with a first and ten from their own eight, only one timeout left, and Jess had a sinking feeling about where God was going with this …
Please help Chris throw for fifty-plus yards.
EH … I DON’T LIKE THAT AS MUCH.
I know what you’re trying to do.
AND THAT IS?
Test me. And test everyone else.
YOU GOT IT.
Why, though?
SORT OF MY THING.
Jess couldn’t win this argument. She never won these arguments. And she knew that would never change.
Could you just do this without injuring anyone else?
OF COURSE I CAN. I AM GOD.
Right. But will you?
He didn’t answer, and so she returned her attention to the field, where Chris shouted the count. The center, Jeremy Montgomery, hiked the ball and Chris shuffled back into the pocket, looking downfield. He released it in a single fluid movement, and it sailed beautifully downfield toward Quentin, whose route was perfectly timed. Quentin with his sure hands and laser focus …
The ball dropped right into his palms … just as he tripped over his own laces, lurching, the jolt launching the football right back out of his grasp and out of bounds before he could take a single step with it under his control.
The crowd groaned.
Jess supposed she should just be grateful that the failure looked natural, although no one would likely accuse her of sabotaging her own team.
>
Romeo’s run was stopped cold at the line of scrimmage on second down, and the clock continued to run as the Mexicans hurried to reset for third to avoid using their final timeout. But everyone seemed confused, and by the time they’d reset and the ball was snapped, the clock had run down to ten seconds.
Third down was at least a quick affair. Chris took three steps back and was immediately sacked on the seven.
Coach Rex managed to call a timeout with five seconds left on the clock. His arms were folded across his chest, and one hand gripped the clipboard while the other he pinched the bridge of his nose. He rotated his head slowly to look over at Jess with a desperation in his eyes that she knew was both an apology and a plea.
It wasn’t his fault she was put in this position, so she couldn’t be mad at him. He headed over to her and stopped only a couple feet in front, looking at her. “You don’t have to,” he said.
She sighed. “I know.” She paused as Coach Rex held his breath. Finally, she knew what she wanted, because it was what she wanted to want. She’d make sense of all of it later.
“I want Chris to hold for me.”
“Chris? But we never have the starting QB—”
Jessica groaned quickly as she held up a hand to stop him. “We’re about to win state. I want Chris on the field for it.”
It was clear from the way Rex narrowed his eyes at her that he worried she might be bullshitting him. But then he chuckled, uncrossed his arms, and his shoulders relaxed. “Goddamn.” He took a deep breath and his energy seemed to return. “Goddamn! Okay! Let’s do this!” He started waving his arms wildly as he gave directions for the field goal unit to take the field and for Chris to take Jack’s place holding for Jess.
The Hilltoppers, some of whom were already beginning their celebrations, didn’t seem sure what to make of the play call. And perhaps rightfully so, considering the Mexicans were lining up for a 111-yard field goal attempt.
While waiting for the defense to take the field, Chris turned to Jess. His face was red from exertion, his hands were in fists and braced on his hips, and he looked completely exhausted. “You really gonna do this?” he asked.
And It Was Good (Jessica Christ Book 2) Page 20
