by Paul Hoblin
He was clearly furious. I could hear it in his voice.
“No,” I said. “I mean, sort of. I mean—”
“In that case, I sort of forgive you. But I mostly think you’re a scumbag.”
“Look. Can we—”
That’s when a couple guys stood up from the table. One of them put his hand on my chest and pushed. “Haven’t you done enough, man?” he said.
“I just need to clear this up with Jeff,” I said.
“Time’s up,” said the other guy.
“This is stupid. If I just had a few minutes I could—What are you doing? Are you kidding me?”
What they were doing was picking me up. The two of them carried me out of the cafeteria like I was some little kid having a temper tantrum. They put me down in the middle of a hallway.
“It’s probably best that you stay clear of the cafeteria today,” Cordell said.
They both walked away.
“See you at the game tonight,” Mike said.
I couldn’t help thinking it sounded like a threat.
Chapter 43
Jeff
So that’s what happened.
That’s how Scooter ruined my life. He stole every part of it. Football—my starting spot and scholarship. And my escape from football—Morgyn.
And that brings us to right now.
Game time.
We get the ball first. We line up in the I formation, just as I agreed to do. More specifically, I line up as fullback. I agreed to do that too.
But that was before.
Before Coach filled me in on Scooter’s betrayal.
Before I witnessed his betrayal firsthand at Morgyn’s.
So you can understand if blocking for Scooter isn’t exactly high on my priority list right now. Since my teammates know what he did to me, I don’t think it’s high on their priority list either.
Chapter 44
Scooter
Joey hands me the ball, and I wait for Jeff to lead the way through the line.
The problem is that Jeff is waiting too.
He doesn’t wait for long—but it’s long enough.
Long enough to let the River Valley players cross the line of scrimmage.
I have no choice but to run to the sideline. Hopefully, Jerrod Lemon, our tackle, is able to hold his own against their defensive end. Otherwise, I have nowhere to go.
Jerrod hardly moves. He takes one step toward the end, but that’s it.
Just like that, the River Valley end is in the backfield—so close I can practically smell his breath.
I’m quick, but I’m not that quick. He collapses on top of me before I can make a single move.
No one helps me off the turf.
“Williams!” Coach yells. “Follow your blocks!”
What blocks? I wonder.
We line up again for another run play. River Valley blitzes a linebacker, and this time Jeff is there to block for me.
Sort of.
Jeff’s the strongest person I know, but the linebacker plows him over. I’m standing right behind Jeff. When he falls over, so do I.
Basically, I just got tackled by my own teammate.
One of the guys grabs Jeff’s arm and lifts him to his feet. Nobody does the same for me.
Coach Douglas calls for a pass play on third down. It’s incomplete, so we need to punt.
On the sidelines, Coach tries to encourage us: “Stick with the plan, boys,” he says to Jeff and me. “We’ll wear them down eventually.”
“Yes, Coach,” Jeff says.
And he’s not lying. I’m sure he is going to stick with the plan.
Just not the plan Coach is referring to.
Jeff’s plan isn’t to execute the I formation. It’s to let me get creamed by the other team.
***
Several minutes later we have the ball again. The game is still scoreless. And my teammates are still refusing to block for me.
I could try to scramble. To make something out of nothing.
But Coach was clear that he wants me to run into the teeth of the defense.
Besides, even if I beat four or five guys, there would still be six or seven others breathing down my neck. No one, not even Barry Sanders, can play one versus eleven.
Still, I’m nervous. I’m so anxious to get the ball and run away from the defense that I move before the ball is snapped.
The refs blow the whistle.
“False start!” one of them calls.
The others move the ball back five yards.
“C’mon, Williams!” Coach yells. “Get your head in the game!” I get the ball on the next play and run past Jeff’s non-existent block right into three River Valley players.
It’s not the hit itself that hurts. It’s the collective weight of their bodies.
Chapter 45
Jeff
I don’t know what to make of Scooter. Is he crazy?
Over and over, we let him get pummeled.
I don’t know what I want him to do. Apologize? Beg for forgiveness? For protection?
Maybe I just want him to quit.
Not just football but school too.
Maybe I want him to run off the field and keep on running—all the way back to where he came from.
If he quits, I think, everything could go back to normal.
But he doesn’t quit.
Small as he is, he keeps charging into the line. Keeps taking his punishment. Keeps getting back up.
The next time he’s left lying crumpled on the field, I stand over him.
“What’s wrong with you?” I yell. “Say something! Why won’t you ever say anything?!”
He hops to his feet.
“You want me to say something?” he yells. “Is that all you want? Fine! Here’s what I say to you. Let’s switch!”
“What?”
“You and me. Let’s switch places. You be the halfback, I’ll be the fullback. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
I’ve never heard him scream like this.
We’re all in a huddle now, but Scooter isn’t done talking. “Jeff and I are going to switch places,” he announces.
“No, we’re not,” I say.
“Seriously,” he says, “anyone else want me to take their position? Anyone want my position?” He looks around the huddle, daring someone to speak up. His head isn’t drooping now. “No? Great. Fullback it is.”
“You’ll get killed, man,” I say.
“I’m getting pretty beat up as it is,” he says. “Besides, I can do a heck of a lot better job than you are.”
“Fine,” I say. “You want to get clobbered, go ahead. Just don’t blame me, okay?”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Scooter says. “Why don’t you stop blaming me?”
We break the huddle.
Scooter steps in front of me, gets in a crouch. Out of the corner of my eye I see Coach putting his hands together to signal a time out. I hear him start to yell, “Time—”
But he’s too late. Joey yells, “Hut!” He takes the snap, pivots, gives me the ball. Scooter finds the guy who’s blitzing and launches himself at him.
He’s got courage—I’ll give him that.
Unfortunately, Scooter’s too small to make much of difference. The linebacker shrugs him off and then lowers his shoulder into me.
His shoulder pad connects full force with my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I stagger and fall.
Scooter and I lie next to each other on the field.
“He said he wouldn’t have offered you the scholarship,” Scooter says, in his usual soft voice.
“What?”
“The coach at Huntington.” Scooter continues, this time with more urgency. “He said if I didn’t take the scholarship he would find someone on a different team. He said he wasn’t considering you. I’m sorry, Jeff. I should have said something. But I didn’t know how to tell you. And I needed the scholarship. Without the money I won’t be able to go to college at all.”
&nbs
p; I’m stunned. Should Scooter have told me about the scholarship? Absolutely. He should have told me a lot of things. If I’d known that he needed that scholarship to go to college, well, that would have helped too. Why didn’t he tell me? Then again, why didn’t I tell him? He had no idea how desperate I was for that scholarship. I’ve been so focused on my game, my future, my relationship with Morgyn—mine, mine, mine.”
“Do you still blame me?” he finally asks.
“A little,” I admit. “Do you still think I’m a jerk?”
“A little,” he says.
“Then I guess we’re even,” I say.
We help each other up.
Chapter 46
Scooter
“What I don’t understand,” Morgyn says to Jeff, “is why everyone thought I was your girlfriend.”
The three of us are in her backyard, building a bonfire. All of Morgyn’s friends are coming over soon, and some of the guys from the team might even stop by.
“They came up with that a long time ago,” Jeff says. “At first it was a joke, and then I guess people started believing it.”
“And you never corrected them?” Morgyn shakes her head. “Real mature of you.”
Jeff looks embarrassed now. “Yeah, sorry—it’s not like I said you were my girlfriend. I just kind of let people draw their own conclusions. It was easier than telling them I was going to go hang out with some weird girl and skip rocks in the dark.”
“Weird girl?” she says.
“I mean that as a compliment,” he says. “I dig weird people.”
He’s kneeling, balancing some pieces of wood together.
“Take Scooter here. He’s either weirdly quiet or weirdly loud.” He laughs. “You should have seen him today on the field. The dude was freaking out.”
“Seems like it worked,” she says. “You guys were unstoppable in the second half.”
Jeff and I look at her, surprised.
“You were at the game?” I ask.
“I go to all of your games,” she says.
For a second Jeff looks stunned. “Wait, so you actually do care about football?”
She shrugs. “It’s fun to watch sometimes.”
“Did you ever consider telling us that?” Jeff asks.
“I don’t know. Did you ever consider telling people that I’m not actually your girlfriend?”
“Okay—you’re right. I’ll make sure I straighten that out. But seriously, you’re kind of blowing my mind. This is a whole side of you I didn’t know about.”
She raises her eyebrows. “I bet I have lots of sides you don’t know about.”
Jeff laughs again. “Well, like I said, you’re both weirdos. It’s a good thing I’m so normal. It keeps us balanced. Normal, abnormal. It’s a yin and yang thing.”
Or Thunder and Lightning, I think.
A few minutes later we have a nice fire going.
“Do you think the coaches at Huntington would let me walk on?” Jeff asks.
“Sure,” I say. “Why not?”
“Don’t look so happy about it,” he says. “I’m coming after your job, man.”
We’re both smiling.
“Seems fair to me,” I say.
About the Author
Paul Hoblin lives, teaches, and writes in Saint Paul, Minnesota.
