Mr. Sportsball

by K. P. Haigh

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Only Fools Jump

  Copyright © 2016 K.P. Haigh

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without prior express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations used in critical reviews or articles.

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, names, organizations, places, and incidents are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover by Najla Qamber Designs

  Cover photo by Lindee Robinson Photography

  Cover models are Andrew Kruczyriski and Alyse Madej

  Developmental editing by Judy, Write Techniques

  Copy editing by Caitlin, Editing by C. Marie

  Proofreading by Wendy, The Passionate Proofreader

  To every girl who has ever watched a football game and thought,

  “Damn, I wish I was reading.”

  Nine Years Ago

  The faster you want time to move, the slower it goes.

  Sitting in seventh period English Lit was the epitome of time crawling. Why did we have to study all the depressing books? Of Mice and Men. Death of a Salesman. Ugh, The Grapes of Wrath. Seriously, where were my happy endings? Where was my unruly adventure that would take me to faraway exciting places? Clearly it wasn’t sitting at the end of a book that was listed as required reading for this class.

  At least I had my best friend. Our last names put us next to each other in class: Montgomery Bell and Andie Bertelli. Andie and I had been sitting together in every single class we'd ever had since she’d moved to town from New York in sixth grade.

  At first glance, our similarities stopped at our long brown hair and green eyes. I was already almost a foot taller than her; my growth spurt had shot me close to six feet, and Andie was left waiting for hers to kick in.

  But at the core, we were like sisters. She was the strong to my silent and the nerdy to my bookworm.

  We'd both already finished the assigned reading for class and had moved on to a rousing game of Kill, Marry, Screw. Andie had just passed back a note with her latest choices: Jesse McCartney, Jason Segel, and Ryan Reynolds.

  I nearly snorted while reading her list. She was ready to destroy all the radios on the face of the earth; that Jesse McCartney song was driving her crazy. She had me at Jason Segel—that dude was funny, and that was always Andie's style. She'd take the hilarious over the blatantly hot any day of the week. As if she was reading my mind, she turned around and waggled her eyebrows dramatically. I loved my best friend and her ridiculous sense of humor—something that was hard to come by in high school. Hormones and social anxiety trumped being funny.

  I tapped my pencil against my lower lip. I knew who mine were, but I was nervous to put it down on paper. I hadn't even told Andie about him yet; I was too embarrassed to say it out loud.

  Cody Maxwell.

  I had been developing a slow burn crush for the past few months, ever since he had said hi with a slow, easy smile when I’d accidentally bumped into him in the hallway during a rushed passing period.

  I should have known better than to form a crush on a guy with two first names—let alone the star quarterback of our mediocre but much admired varsity football team.

  But, my teenage brain had found a target and latched on and wouldn’t let go until you pried it from its cold, dead hands.

  I idolized a boy I had only mumbled a tangled apology to. He didn't even know my name. He was two grades above me, and I was sure he had smiled because I was a fumbling idiot, not actual dating material.

  No one knew about my infatuation. That was the great part about being invisible in high school: no one paid attention to who you were staring at, even if it was them.

  I blushed just thinking about drawing the first letter of his name. I tapped my pencil against my lip again, gathering up my courage.

  Andie jabbed the heel of her black boot into my outstretched toes, and I cringed at the sharp sting where her sole connected with my big toe.

  Fine. I scribbled down my answers and refolded the creased paper, passing it up around the side of the desk to the top of Andie's backpack. She quickly snatched it up and spread out the lined paper underneath her open book decoy.

  She giggled under her breath. My stomach did a somersault. I knew this meant I would be explaining my secret crush in piercing detail on the phone with her later that night, but the ache of telling the secret was washed away by the overwhelming relief of letting my best friend help bear its weight.

  Ms. Phillips turned her hawk eyes on us. "Girls, this is reading time. It is not do-whatever-you-please time."

  "Yes, Ms. Phillips." I would have done anything to get the spotlight off of me right then.

  Andie crinkled our note up and reached down for her backpack.

  I shoved my foot out in front of me to kick her, but my toe connected with the hard metal of the chair post instead. I bit back a scream.

  Ms. Phillips was not impressed with what was going on in our little corner. She stood up from her desk and started to walk over to us. "And what is it that's so funny over here?"

  Ohmygod, please hide that note. Please hide that note. Andie's left hand connected with the zipper of her bag, but without leaning over to use her other hand to give it resistance, she couldn't slide the zipper back to open the top.

  I stopped breathing, my eyes stuck on our teacher, who was rapidly approaching. Come on, passing period bell, please ring.

  Ms. Phillips's eyes narrowed on the piece of paper Andie was desperately trying to stuff into the tiny opening of her bag. She walked over, reached down, and plucked it right out of Andie's fingers.

  I tried to sink as low as I could in my chair, but my 5'11" body didn't exactly give me many options outside of sinkholes randomly appearing and devouring me and my desk whole.

  Ms. Phillips's red talons peeled the note open. She studied it for a moment, and I silently prayed to every god I'd ever heard of that she would read it and then drop it in the trash. Athena, do me a solid on this one, pretty please?

  "Miss Bell, would you do me the honor of explaining why you have listed Sabrina Lang, Cody Maxwell, and Cody Maxwell under the labels kill, marry, and screw?"

  I would have dug my own sinkhole with a spork to escape the situation with any trace of social dignity intact, but apparently Ms. Phillips was unaware of how much it sucked to be a teenager.

  I swore I could see a smile tucked behind the thick lines that bracketed her pursed lips. I wanted to tell her where she could shove her authority, but I was too scared of expulsion, t
he threat every teacher hung over our heads like a rusty old guillotine.

  Andie spoke up for me. "It's just a game."

  I appreciated her words, since mine were stuck somewhere between my stomach and the ball in my throat.

  "Well, these are not the words you should be studying during class, and I certainly do not like the implication of killing anyone, game or not. Miss Sabrina Lang is a very fine young lady."

  Fuck Sabrina Lang. Fuck her and her perfectly blow-dried, honey blonde hair. I couldn't have managed a round brush and a hair dryer if I’d had four hands and eyes on the back of my head, but Sabrina walked in every day like she was starring in a goddamn hair commercial. Everyone ate it up—including Cody.

  They were the quarterback and star cheerleader, the top of the high school social food chain. So, no matter how many times the rumor mill spun with the news that their relationship was on the rocks, they always ended up back together, the king and queen of our high school.

  I could hear the whispers in the class as everyone pieced my list together: kill Sabrina Lang, marry and screw Cody Maxwell.

  Awesome. I figured I should just head home on the bus, climb into bed, and die under the covers.

  The bell rang, and everyone scrambled up and out, anxious to get to the last period of the day. I stood up, my head bowed down, as if not seeing my classmates would mean they hadn't just heard the most embarrassing unintentional confession of my life.

  Ms. Phillips retreated back to her desk, dropping the note in the trash on her way there. I vowed to look up voodoo doll torture when I got home.

  Andie fell in step with me as we walked out the classroom door into the crowded hallway. "Ms. Phillips is an evil hag."

  I pinched my eyes closed to hold back the overwhelming despair that threatened to break free. I could hate my English teacher all I wanted; it wouldn't stop my secret from spreading person to person like a line of ants marching back to the hill with a trail of breadcrumbs.

  Andie's next class was at the opposite end of the school. She reached out and squeezed my hand.

  "It's gonna be okay. No one is going to remember this tomorrow. Hell, if you need me to go flash everybody before school ends today, just say the words."

  I smiled at the thought. I knew she would if I asked her to; that's what best friends do for each other.

  "It's okay. This is going to blow over." I didn't believe it for a second, but I thought maybe if I said the words out loud, it would make them true.

  I tried to pretend I was invisible all the way through my next class, even though it felt as if there was a magnifying glass held right above my head, directing the brutal force of a spotlight straight on me.

  When the final bell rang at the end of the period, I raced out to my locker, anxious to get on the bus. I grabbed my coat and shut my locker. When I turned around, my body slammed into a tiny rock of muscle behind me.

  I looked down to see one of the younger members of the cheerleading team looking up at me. I couldn't remember her name, but I knew she was in my grade. We’d had second period geometry together the year before.

  "Um, hi," she chirped. "I heard about the whole Cody Maxwell thing, and I wanted to come talk to you."

  I closed my eyes in defeat. Why did time have to move so slow but information traveled at the speed of light? I started walking toward the line of buses outside to escape, but the little cheerleader followed me.

  "I just wanted to let you know that Sabrina and Cody broke up. It was, like, kind of under the radar. But, he heard about whole note thing, and he's interested."

  What. The. Hell. My universe felt like a piñata of confetti had just burst open, covering the whole thing in tiny flecks of bright color.

  Little cheerleader didn't seem the least bit phased by my open-mouthed, stunned expression. "So yeah, you should come to the game this Friday. I think he'd really like it."

  I nodded.

  "Um, thanks."

  Part of me wanted to hug this tiny messenger, but I was too discombobulated to do anything else besides put one foot in front of the other.

  I might not have known how to blow dry my long, wavy auburn hair, but I was pretty sure that was my homework assignment for the next three days—that, and learning how to apply something more than mascara and lip gloss.

  When I got home, I thanked my lucky stars Mom was stuck in a work meeting until the early evening. I had the house to myself, but I raced up to my bedroom and locked the door anyway. I didn't want to tempt fate into sending any more embarrassment my way.

  It only took two rings for Andie to pick up.

  "Okay. Start at the beginning and tell me everything."

  Like any good teenager would, I went through every painstaking detail: Cody's first smile at me, every single nanosecond of the encounter thereafter, my thoughts on how he seemed really nice because I had seen him help unjam a freshman's locker door one time, and so on.

  Even hashing out all of those details, I only managed to fill up fifteen minutes worth of conversation. It was a teenage-sized crush; the sugar content was high, but the nutritional content was shamefully low.

  But I wasn’t even at the good part yet.

  "Remember that cheerleader who was in our geometry class last year? The really short one with blonde hair."

  "Yeah, Gwen, right?"

  "I think so?" The name still didn't ring any bells, but our conversation was on a constant loop in my brain. "Anyway, she found me at the end of the day and told me Sabrina and Cody are on a break."

  "They take more breaks than a Kit-Kat bar." I could hear the smirk in Andie's voice.

  My palms started to sweat, and I rubbed them back and forth against my jeans while I held the phone wedged between my ear and my shoulder. "Gwen said he heard about our note and wants me to come to Friday's game."

  "Are you serious?"

  "Yeah. Dead serious."

  "What are you going to do?"

  I paused and took a deep breath. "I have no freaking clue."

  The line went silent for a moment, and I couldn't decide if I wanted Andie to tell me to go or to forget the whole thing ever happened. The idea of showing up to the game was terrifying, but I also knew I wanted my Rachel Lee Cook moment where I turned from underwhelming nerd in an art smock into oh-my-gosh-she's-a-knockout-in-that-red-dress. I didn’t know where to get a red dress that would actually go more than two inches below my butt—thank you, absurdly long waist—but that didn't mean I wasn't holding out for my fairy godmother to show up, Freddie Prince Jr. or otherwise.

  "I think you should go," Andie finally replied.

  "Really?" I had my reservations. It seemed too easy—a major embarrassment turned into a social triumph.

  "Yeah. I mean, Gwen's really nice, and Sabrina and Cody are always taking breaks."

  "She wasn't just messing with me?"

  "There's only one way to find out."

  I figured she was right, and I mean, I would have always wondered.

  "You'll go with me right?"

  "I'll be the Clyde to your Bonnie, and we'll go steal some hearts." I heard her wide grin through the phone.

  At least I had my best friend, even though I couldn't shake the idea that we were better off staying in with Friday Night Lights than we were trying to chase them in real life.

  Friday night arrived. I begged my parents to drive me to the school stadium, and even though they gave me serious side eye, they didn't question me—their book-loving child who only knew the rules to a fictional sport that used brooms and wands.

  I sat through the entire game, too nervous to focus on anything except the brightly lit countdown clock on the board. I couldn't figure out why it kept stopping, and whether it was just time being a bitch or if the rules of the game meant sometimes the timer ran and sometimes it didn't.

  I nearly cut off all circulation to Andie's hand from squeezing it like it was my life raft in the middle of a freaking hurricane, but she didn't complain for a second.

&n
bsp; Five minutes before the end of the game, her cell phone rang.

  She pushed it to her ear and cupped her hand around her mouth and the bottom of the phone. "Yeah…um, can't I stay for another half hour? … Well, can I get a ride home with… Seriously? … That's so lame. Fine…okay, yeah, fine. Bye."

  I already knew what she was going to say. Andie had four siblings and parents that worked 24/7. They weren't always around, but when they were, they always seemed to try to make up for it with extra parenting. I guessed on this night that meant Andie going home early.

  "You gotta go?" I tried to keep the disappointment from coloring my voice; there wasn't any use making Andie feel bad about a situation she couldn't change.

  "Yeah. My brother has the car and he's on his way home from some band thing. He's going to be here any minute." Her shoulders slumped forward.

  I pulled her in for a hug.

  "It's okay. I'm just going to go get my heart crushed." I was trying to defuse her frustration, but the words hit a little too close to home. My nerves started to shake like a warning of impending seismic activity.

  "You're going to be great. Call me when you get home and tell me everything, okay?"

  I gave her a weak smile. Why did I decide to do this again?

  We snuck out of our spot on the bleachers, and Andie walked with me to the back exit of the field house.

  "Maybe I should just go home with you," I whispered.

  Andie stopped and turned to face me. She grabbed my shoulders and squeezed.

  "Love is worth the risk."

  Her words were so sincere, even though it sounded like something they would say in a made-for-TV movie.

  I closed my eyes. I can do this. Gwen is really nice, and Cody totally likes me.

  Andie's phone started to ring again, and she gave me one last hug before she raced toward the parking lot. I turned back to the field house. I swore I stood there for an hour. It was probably more like twenty minutes, but each and every second was like a shot of adrenaline to my soul. I was jittery and excited and one hundred percent terrified.