Secret Catch (23 page)

“Can you grab my phone? I think I got a text,” I ask Paige.

She reaches over and grabs it while I blow on a nail that she just painted. When she looks at the screen, she starts bouncing on my bed.

“What are you doing?” I scramble to get the nail polish before I have a gigantic pink blob all over my covers. “Stop before you spill it.”

“Ohmygosh.” Paige grabs my shoulders and starts shaking me.

“What the heck is your problem?”

“This.” She holds my phone out to me so I can see Tyler’s name across the screen.

My heart takes off in a superfast rhythm, and I have to take some deep breaths so I don’t hyperventilate.

He texted me.

“What does it say?” I say, flapping my hands in the air.

“I need you at the game. Please come?”

He wants me to come to the game. He wants me there. Of course I’m gonna be there, it’s the biggest game of the year. I’ll be helping Brad, too. He said talking before would help him keep his cool out there.

Maybe I shouldn’t go. It will be so hard to see Tyler, and then have to run over to the Skyhawk side.

But it will be so hard not to see him.

“So… we’re going right?” Paige says after she looks at the message.

“Hell yeah!” I shout at her, the urge to see Tyler beating out every other excuse not to see him. She jolts back with a laugh.

“Do you have a plan?”

I babble off idea after idea, and finally one sparks.

“What’s that going to do?” Paige asks.

“It’ll show him that I don’t give a shit about what anyone thinks!”

“But this is a little drastic don’t you think? I mean, you already gave the teams a lecture. You want to do this in front of basically the whole town?”

“Absolutely.”

Her eyebrows squish together. “If you’re sure this is what you want to do, then I have your back.”

***

“This is crazy!” I yell to Paige as we try to make our way through the packed crowd of people.

It’s a sea of yellow and red, all tangled and twisted together until you get to the stands, then it’s solid yellow or solid red.

“I know I don’t think I’ve seen it this packed before!” she yells back to me.

Paige walks in front, and I hold tight to her hand. If we get separated I’ll never find her. It took me long enough to locate her after talking with Brad. He’s starting tonight, and of course he’ll be tackling Tyler since that’s the game, but he promised me he’ll keep it under control. I told him that he’s a good player, and to think about the game and nothing else. Hopefully that helps.

“Sam! Sam!” Someone from behind me yells and tugs on my hand. My lips turn up when I see Parker. Her face lights up and she jumps up in my arms, giving me a huge hug.

“I’ve missed you. Tyler’s grumpy without you.” She gets a big frown on her face.

“I’ve been a little grumpy without him too.” I smile.

“Parker, I told you not to run off. There are way too many people here. Who’s this?” A woman, who I have to guess is Tyler’s mom because he looks like her, says.

“Mom, this is Sam. Tyler’s girlfriend.”

My cheeks burn, and I wish that the crowd could swallow me up. Sure, I wanted to meet his mom, but not like this. Not without him by my side. And definitely not after we’ve broken up.

I shake my head. “Not anymore, Parker.” My smile’s gone. “It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Koontz.”

I’m not sure what the protocol here is so I hold out my hand. She ignores it and promptly pulls me in for a hug.

“Ah, so you’re the reason he’s been miserable,” she says in my ear.

My eyes widen and my mouth falls open. I don’t know what to say to that. I’d like to say something like I’m miserable too, but I just close my mouth and bite my lip.

I clear my throat and then force myself to ask, “Is Tyler going to be playing tonight?”

His mom nods. “They’re going to let him play two quarters.”

“I bet he’s happy.” I pause, furrowing my forehead. “He’s better enough to play?”

“The doctor cleared him.”

“Good.”

We just stand there, and awkward silence with chaos surrounds us. A couple guys come up behind his mom and Paige grabs onto my arm and squeezes hard.

“Paige,” an older version of Tyler says.

“Hunter.” A little smile crosses her lips.

And then Mrs. Koontz is giving Paige hugs and thanking her for helping Tyler and calling Hunter, and Paige is telling them that I called her and had her go there.

A loud roar comes over the crowd as the Skyhawks take the field. I want to be in my seat so I can stare at Tyler the whole time he’s out there.

“We better get to our seats. It was nice meeting you,” I say to his mom.

I give Parker another hug and tell her I miss her too, and then we’re getting swallowed up by the crowd.

“You okay?” Paige holds on to my arm.

“Yep and hopefully soon I’ll be even better.” The corners of my mouth turn up just a little.

We find our seats right in the middle of the sea of red.

“You sure you want to do this?” Paige asks me one last time.

“Yep. I’m sure.” I take a deep breath.

Then I take Tyler’s yellow Trojan hoodie out of my bag and put it on.

The sweet smell of the field wafts through the air when I ease down on the bench after the first quarter. I ran two touchdowns, and Nolan only took me down to my knees during three plays. I slide my helmet off and squirt water at my face before taking a long drink.

It’s been a great game actually. Sort of civilized which none of us are used to against the Skyhawks. Nolan even helped me up after what I have to admit was a great tackle. And the ref hasn’t given any misconduct warnings—also unusual for a rivalry game.

I twist my shoulder a bit where I hit the ground during the last play. When I was a kid, my brothers never took it too easy on me when it came to the field. We all play the game. We all love it. And they all knew if I wanted to play for as long as I could, I needed to be made of tough stuff. I’ve had dislocated shoulders, broken bones, pulled muscles. The variety of every minor injury I could ever imagine.

Despite knowing how painful it is to play football, it’s more painful to think of never playing again.

“Ty! Ty!” Parker yells from the middle section of golden yellow. I turn on the bench and give her a wave, ignoring the knot in my gut. Coach is reserving me for fourth quarter, so I don’t have the distraction of the game to help with my nerves. I’m sweaty, dirty, and my ass feels like it got bulldozed.

A whistle blows, and the red part of the bleachers stand, holler, cheer, and stomp against the metal, vibrating the seats as the scoreboard flashes
14
to
13
. After the field goal, it’s tied.

I’m not sure if it’s because I know what I know about the district lines, or because the Skyhawks aren’t pulling any weird shit on the field tonight, but something has shifted in the way I view those guys. Take away the red… pretend we’re all in practice jerseys. They’re just like me.

Second quarter goes by in a blur of gold and red, light rain, and the best sound in the world—the
crowd
. We’re still tied when the ref calls half time. My stomach is officially up in my throat when I stand, clutching my helmet between my sweaty fingers. I gaze at the red section of the bleachers, breathing through my mouth, a sudden itch running over the back of my neck.

“You okay, Koontz?” Gunderson asks, nudging me toward the locker room.

A loud, high-pitched squeal from Parker in the stands behind me distracts me from answering him. She grins and waves a shirt out. Even though I’m scared as hell, Coach is now bugging me to move my ass from the field, and the dance team has already started the half time show, I’m doing this.

I break out of the line heading to the locker room and jog to my sister. My fingers scrape against the railing as she pushes the shirt through the hole.

“She’s here?” I ask her.

“Hurry!”

I’m a fast runner. Wide receivers have to be. But I can
not
get my damn legs to move fast enough. I bolt through the middle of the field, breaking up the dancers, and then interrupting the Skyhawks who haven’t moved to the locker room yet.

My legs suddenly feel like rubber, my head spins, and my heart beats through my ears. They look at me like I’m an asshole. Like the color of my shirt defines who I am. But I don’t strip it off. I don’t unmark myself to make things more comfortable or to get people to stop watching me.

I clear my throat and grip the shirt in my hand, praying she hears me over the noise.

“Sam!”

My eyes weave over what looks like every face, searching and searching for her red hair, her brown eyes, her perfect nose, her round cheeks, but I’m so petrified even just standing this close to hundreds of people who hate me already that I can’t focus.

“Sam!” I try again and worry she left before the game was done—if I’ve screwed up so much that she’s not ready to forgive me in front of all these people. Or at all.

I jog the little ways to the edge of the field where the turf meets the bleachers. I knock my helmet against the railing separating us from the spectators, trying to gulp, but my throat is dry.

Just when my shoulders slouch in defeat, I see her. And I blink a few times because I don’t know how I missed her before. Through the sea of red, the few people who don’t wear the colors but refuse to wear Trojan yellow, is my golden hoodie. It’s drowning her, hanging low enough to cover her butt, and her big eyes connect with mine as she tugs on the drawstrings.

The whole section around her has moved at least eight feet from where she stands—minus one person smiling and whispering in Sam’s ear. I jog to my right, getting as close as I can in front of her, hoping she takes the hint and meets me by the railing. Her lips look like they want to smile, but they aren’t sure if they should yet as she makes her way through the crowd, heading down down down till she’s leaning over the top of the railing, looking down at me on the field.

Because I can’t help it, I reach up and tug her sleeve, just to touch her again.

“I don’t know how to do it,” I say, or more like shout. She crouches down, so her face is level with mine.

“Do what?”

“I lost you.” My finger reaches through the bars and taps her chin. “So I don’t know how to live.”

Her beautiful lips part slightly, still looking as if they aren’t sure if it’s time to smile or not. So I give her one.

“You’re a Skyhawk,” I say, and her expression falls like I’m going to break her heart all over again. I latch onto her hand against the railing, linking our fingers through the metal. “But you aren’t
just
a Skyhawk. You get me. You get this.” I gesture over my shoulder to the field.

“You get me, too.”

I pull the shirt from my shoulder. “As much as I love seeing you in Trojan yellow, I fell in love with an evil bird.” Finally a laugh seeps through her cherry lips as I press the Skyhawk jersey against her hands. “I want everyone to know it.”

Without a single breath of hesitation, she stretches up on her long legs, pulls the hoodie over her head and sets it on the railing. I reach up and help her wiggle into the red jersey, then grab her face and plant my lips against hers.

We can’t kiss for long, which is a damn shame, because she’s too far up, and when we break away, I figured she’d move to one of the slats in the railing. But instead, she hoists herself over, and I get tackled for the third time tonight, but I’ll take this Nolan tackle over number forty-three Nolan’s any day.

I’m flat on my ass, and she’s just ruined whatever pants she’s got on with grass stains, but neither of us gives a shit. We kiss, and that’s the whole point. The only people allowed to care about whose side we belong to are us, and we don’t.

There’s chaos everywhere. Up in the bleachers, down on the field, and when Sam and I turn to the noise we see it’s coming from the locker rooms too as Trojans and Skyhawks flood the field. I give Sam one more peck before we both get to our feet, and we walk—hand-in-hand—to the battle going on near the thirty yard line.

Spectators have reached the field, arguing with the coaches saying some shit about how I can’t be on the team anymore. Nolan is trying to break out of a couple guys’ hold, and my eyebrows raise when I see they’re Skyhawks. Daniels and Jacoby have their helmets on, trying to calm down the Trojans looking for a fight. All eyes turn to Sam and me when she says, “What the hell? Stop it!”

She shoves her way into the center of everyone, in front of Nolan, in front of Daniels, and I follow.

“You don’t get to talk, girl.”

“Traitor.”

“You’re not a real Skyhawk.”

Several more things get pushed out in Sam’s direction, and I want to stand in front of her protect her from it, but I equally love that she has the strength to take it. Her hand stays in mine, and she turns to her cousin, who’s yelling at the guys holding him back.

“Let me go. I’m okay. I’m not gonna do anything.”

They ease their hold on him, and instead of charging right toward me and laying a fist in my face like I expect, he marches right up to Coach Bean and says, “We forfeit.”

The refs have to push back some of the Skyhawk parents. One of the players shoves Nolan in the shoulder and he turns and says something no one can hear. Most of us Trojans are confused as hell, and I look to Sam for answers but she shrugs.

Coach Bean’s eyebrows lift, and he says to Nolan, “Sorry…?”

“We forfeit. Trojans win.” Then he turns to our team. “But… if it’s all right with you guys, we’d like to scrimmage the second half.” He points his helmet at Jacoby. “You pick teammates first, I’ll pick second?”

He stuns the entire stadium into silence. Sam’s smiling next to me, and I kiss her temple before letting go of her hand and stepping up to Nolan. He looks at the stitches on the side of my face, a slight frown on his lips.

“You pick first,” I tell him.

He slaps a hand on my shoulder pad with a grin. “I got Koontz.”

Jacoby starts laughing, breaking through the quieted field. All the players line up, and he takes his first pick… the Skyhawk quarterback.

The coaches and refs quiet down the spectators, grabbing security to escort people back to their seats if needed. We keep picking our teams, mixing it up. Daniels high-fives and shoulder bumps me when he steps on our side. Nolan leans over and apologizes about the word he put on Daniels jersey, and things feel good. We’re all pumped and ready to play without any extra shit.

A hand wraps around mine, pulling me from the lineup. Sam bites her cherry lip before swinging her arms around my neck and kissing me in the middle of the field again.

“I have no idea what just happened,” she says. I laugh, unable to get it myself.

“I think…” I say as I turn to Nolan talking to Jacoby and the refs. “I’m pretty sure your cousin is calling a truce.” I turn back and kiss her knuckles. “The boundary lines are being redrawn. Jacoby’s joining the Skyhawks next year.”

Her eyebrows raise, and she looks out at the field. Both teams are talking to each other. I quirk a smile and look back to Sam.

“He’s a good guy, right?” she says. “Like, we’re not gaining a complete douche?”

“He’s one of the best guys. I’m ready to let him move into my basement so we can keep him for another year.”

“Does that mean you’re staying a Trojan next year?”

“Does it matter?”

Her fist gently connects with my shoulder pad. “No, but I can’t say that it wouldn’t be a plus if I saw you in a few of my classes or walking the halls.”

“Likewise.” I lean in, give her a kiss, lingering now that we can. “You’ll be stuck with me whether I’m a condom or an evil bird.”

“Good.” She kisses me again, fingers curling into the bottom of my jersey. “But you have some major making up to do for being such an idiot.”

“Yeah, I know.” I laugh. “Man, I love you.”

“I love you.”

She kisses me lightly, then gently pushes me toward the field. “Better go be part of your new team.”

“Okay.” I jog a few steps then turn back around. “And Sam… I am sorry. About breaking my promise. About everything.”

A wide smile covers her lips. “You will just owe me a private football practice.”

I laugh again, letting it fill my gut because it’s been a while since I could do this, and then I run to my newly formed team, ready to tear down the proverbial Berlin wall.