Cinderella in Cleats

I. Prologue

The wind picked up, blowing red and gold autumn leaves off of the tall maple trees. They seemed to swirl and fall around Jason Victorino and Whitney

Berringer. Jason had an old football with faded laces cradled in his athletic arms and he ran straight at her. Whitney stood firm, ready to make the stop and she did,

tackling him to the ground. She landed on top of his athletic body with a thud. At the opposite end of the park, their fathers didn’t notice as their lips met for the first

time.

Yeah. Sure. In what universe? Whitney thought to herself. She’d been imagining those old afternoons a lot lately, but she’d been picturing things that never

happened. Jason had never kissed her and she knew now that he never wanted to.

Looking back, she figured she was lucky to have had any relationship with him at all. It wasn’t like they were close anymore. Even before Jason had met Elisabeth

Turner at the beginning of their freshman year, things had long since changed between the formerly inseparable best friends.

Whitney wasn’t exactly sure why Jason had stopped hanging out with her, but she had her fair share of guesses. She knew it didn’t have anything to do with how she

looked, her friends, or his. If she had to choose only one explanation, she’d guess that it had everything to do with their past.

Jason and Whitney had grown up together, sharing everything from green Play-Doh to dripping vanilla ice cream cones. They had lived just a few houses apart on

Gorham Street, their mothers sat on the PTA together, and their fathers played golf on Saturday afternoons in the spring.

And in between, Jason and Mr. Victorino and Whitney and Mr. Berringer had played football every fall Sunday morning in the park.

Whitney remembered every last detail of that day. She didn’t know how anyone could ever forget. It was August 24th and the Victorinos and Berringers were at the

park, getting ready for the start of the NFL season. It was a typical summer morning; there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the temperature promised to climb well into the

nineties.

Jason and Whitney had been teasing each other all morning like they usually did, each putting their most impressive moves on display trying to outdo the other. They

didn’t notice when Mr. Berringer collapsed.

He died of a heart attack on the field.

At the time, Whitney hadn’t known that her friendship with Jason would die along with her dad. She’d always thought he would be there forever, but nothing could

have been farther from the truth and now the two most important men in her life had vanished, though they both certainly left their traces.

Jason and Whitney hadn’t spoken in over two years. On that first Sunday of the NFL season just two weeks after her dad’s death, Whitney had hoped beyond all

hope that Jason would call early that morning, asking what time they should make their traditional run for greasy cheeseburgers and crinkly fries before they settled in

front of the television to watch their beloved Philadelphia Eagles open the season against the division rival New York Giants.

But the call never came.

August 24th marked the end of everything Whitney had ever known. That day meant the end of almost eleven years of Sundays in the park, the end of an eleven-year

friendship, and the end of Whitney’s love for football.

Things weren’t the same between Whitney and Jason’s parents anymore. While they were still kind in passing, it never went beyond pleasantries. Her relationship

with the Victorinos didn’t feel right anymore. Nothing that reminded her of Jason really felt right, not even their memories.

Jason no longer looked at her when their paths crossed and she tried to return the favor. His lack of acknowledgment wasn’t okay, but Whitney did her best not to

dwell on it.

Her life had changed, yes, but things weren’t as bad as they could be, as they had been. She had friends who wouldn’t leave her the second things got tough. The

constant sound of tears coming from her mother’s bedroom at midnight had stopped. Mrs. Berringer was dating again; their lives were finally falling back into place in

ways neither of them ever imagined.

If you had told Whitney two years ago that Jason Victorino would eventually become one of those jocks who treated guys who weren’t on the football team like they

didn’t matter, she would have laughed in your face and walked away. That was how things were now. Jason had become the conceited football jock, the typical star

athlete. He epitomized the very definition of the stereotype.

The Jason Victorino who walked the halls of Ash Valley High School wasn’t the same Jason Victorino who used to play football on Sunday mornings in Ash Valley

Community Park two years ago.

And that was something Whitney was finally learning to live with.

I.

A large banner hung from the arch over the school entrance announcing that football tryouts would take place later that Monday afternoon. It was the first thing that

met my eyes when I arrived that morning and the only thing I found myself thinking about for the rest of the day.

I had always planned on playing high school ball. I knew I was good enough; my dad had always talked with Mr. Victorino about it and everyone agreed I was a

shoo-in for the starting spot.

Of course, that was before Jason decided to switch from running back to quarterback--to my position--before our freshman year.

When tryouts had rolled around the past two years, I couldn’t find it in me to go out for the team, to get back on the field, to play the sport my dad loved, the sport

he had died playing, the sport that held so much more emotional meaning than a competition ever should.

Maybe it was a sign of weakness or maybe it just meant that I wasn’t ready to face Jason again, but either way, I’d stood by idly as Ash Valley climbed the rankings

in high school football with Jason in shotgun. The glory belonged to him, and I hated it.

Now...two years later...maybe...

“I could kill you for not calling me this weekend.” Sophie Schofield fell into step beside me, interrupting my thoughts. “But maybe if you tell me everything, I’ll

reconsider.”

I managed a weak smile, startled by the intrusion. “Sorry,” I offered lamely. “It was, um...okay.”

Sophie raised her eyebrows. “Okay? Christopher Timberly was supposed to be your dream date. How was it just okay?”

“Fine,” I conceded with a thoughtful nod. “When you put it like that, it was much worse.”

“Yikes.” Sophie grimaced. “Sorry, Whit. What happened? Him asking you out was the highlight of your year!”

I shrugged. “Luckily it’s still September. He has a personal stockbroker. Buy low, sell high. Strike while the iron is hot. Invest in Anderson Homewares pronto, but

sell any automobile stock I have unless I want financial problems well into my twenties and possibly beyond.”

Sophie snorted. “Really? Huh. Christopher Timberly doesn’t look like he’d be such a dweeb. Maybe it’s those baby blues.”

I just shrugged again. “I don’t know what it is. But it’s okay. I’m over it.”

“Good.” Sophie paused. “Okay. So you know I have to ask. What are you going to do about tryouts?”

“Tryouts?”

“Yes,” she replied firmly, leveling me with a no-nonsense stare. “You’ve blown them off for the past two years. You’re good, Whit. Even I know that and I can’t tell

you the difference between a first down and a field goal.”

“Look, even if I was John Elway in his prime, I don’t think there’s much of a point in trying out,” I protested. Sophie raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. “I’m a

girl, Soph, and Jason isn’t. Even if I really am better than him, who do you really think Coach Harrington would play?”

“Um, I don’t know. Jason, I guess.”

“Yeah, because he’s a guy. So why bother?”

“I don’t know. Because you’re good. Just do it. Oh! Dirk!” Sophie reached out, grabbing Dirk Salvetta by the sleeve of his frayed plaid shirt.

He looked up, startled. “Oh, hey,” he said. He pulled his headphones out of his ears. “I didn’t see you.”

“I’m trying to convince Whitney to go out for the football team.”

“Oh! Yeah! Do it,” Dirk said, turning to face me.

I sighed. “Look, it doesn’t matter what the two of you think. I won’t get the starting spot over Jason, no matter what I do or how talented I may or may not be. It just

won’t happen.”

“But then you could bring about a lawsuit!” Dirk exclaimed, the dormant lawyer in him clearly aroused. “I can see the headlines now! ‘Coach of Elite High School

Football Program Practices Sexism! Title IX Violated!’” He paused. “Or something like that.”

Sophie laughed. “Come on, Whitney. Just do it.”

“Yeah,” Dirk chimed in. “If you won’t do it for yourself, at least do it for your dad. You know it’s what he would want.”

The end of the school day came much faster than I wanted it to. All day, I hadn’t been able to think of anything but the rapidly approaching football tryouts. I had no

idea what to do about them, but I couldn’t get Dirk’s words to stop echoing in my head.

When the final bell rang, I knew I had no choice but to call my mom. “There are some tryouts happening this afternoon that I’d like to check out,” I told her

voicemail. “I’ll be home later tonight. I can get a ride from someone.”

There was an unusual number of people heading towards the athletic building that afternoon and I had a strong suspicion that most of them weren’t interested in

earning a varsity letter with the cup-stacking team, the only other sport left to hold tryouts that day.

“Whitney.” Elisabeth Turner, Jason Victornio’s uber-popular, uber-pretty girlfriend, fell into step beside me as I walked. I frowned; Elisabeth didn’t exactly make a

point to talk to me often. When she did, I never enjoyed it much. “Please tell me you aren’t coming back to the volleyball team. We really haven’t missed your errant

serves.”

“Don’t worry,” I said, hoping to end the conversation as quickly and painlessly as possible.

Things with Elisabeth and I had never been friendly. I wasn’t sure why, exactly, she felt the need to be so rude to me all of the time. It wasn’t like I posed any kind of

threat to her relationship with Jason. He hadn’t spoken to me once since long before he even met her.

“I never do,” Elisabeth replied without missing a beat. “So, then, tell me. If not volleyball, what sport will you fail at this time? Soccer? Tennis?” She gave a snide little

laugh and smirked. “Football?”

“I’m not going to fail at football.” The words left my mouth without me even thinking about it, but I realized then just how much I meant it. I wouldn’t fail at this. I

couldn’t. I’d given it up once before; now it was time to go back. And I could do it.

Elisabeth’s mouth dropped, but she recovered quickly. “I was...kidding, you know. But, hey, if you’re really going to try out, I might as well warn you now. It seems

to me that you’ve got as much of a chance at making the team as Rob Hughes over there.”

I glanced up just in time to see Rob, the founder and president of Ash Valley’s first-ever Micro-Organism Appreciation Society, hurrying into the boys’ locker room,

carrying a gym bag big enough to tackle him.

I shook my head. Elisabeth had no idea that sometimes the underdog had a weird way of surprising everyone around him. To most people, I was the underdog

without a chance, but in my mind, I knew I was the most likely candidate to come up with a Cinderella story.

“Elisabeth,” I said with as much fake sweetness as I could muster. “I hope you don’t mind if I excuse myself.” I pushed open the door to the girls’ locker room and

stared into the black Nike gym bag I’d packed the night before for my physical education class. Suddenly, I wished the extra shirt I’d brought wasn’t the mustard

yellow Ron Allitz Football Clinic T-shirt I’d grabbed as I rushed out the door.

Okay, so I wasn’t the one who’d participated in Ron’s clinic, but my dad’s old shirt always seemed to bring me a little bit of luck. Maybe it was exactly what I

needed.

Besides, I’d almost always worn that shirt every Sunday in the park with Jason. I was curious if he’d recognize the distinct mustard color he’d spent so many hours

making fun of. Slipping the shirt on over my head with renewed confidence, my mind focused in on the questions I’d been trying to ignore all day.

What would it be like to be back in Jason’s world for the first time in more than two years? But more importantly, what would he say when he realized that I was his

main competition for the starting quarterback job, not Lee Engall? Jason and his dad were the only people outside of my own family to ever see me pick up the ball.

While my skills on the field wouldn’t come as much of a shock to him, I knew the rest of Ash Valley was in for one heck of a surprise.

“We always get one.” Coach Harrington looked up at me as I approached the cluster of guys gathered at the 50-yard line. Twenty or so male heads swung in my

direction and every last guy smirked. I knew what they were thinking; I was just one less person they had to worry about stealing their spot that afternoon.

“Cheerleading tryouts were yesterday, dear. So sorry.” The coach returned his attention to his infamous clipboard .

“That’s why I’m here today.”

“I was only trying to save you the embarrassment.” He didn’t look up.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“That’s a nice shirt you’ve got on there.”

“Yeah, that’s why I wore it.”

Coach Harrington stopped writing and looked up at me. “You’re not afraid of me.”

“Is there a reason to be?”

The coach smiled. “I like you. Very cheeky. Name?”

“Whitney Berringer.”

“Berringer, eh? Your brother played for me.”

I nodded. “Yeah. Gregory.”

“Fine boy. Fine athlete, too. And now that I know about Gregory, I have to ask. Is that T-shirt from a time you went to Ron’s clinic or is it just one of your brother’s

hand-me-downs?”

I hesitated for just a second before answering. “I’ve been to the clinic.”

It wasn’t really a lie. I mean, I had gone to the clinic with my mom to pick Greg up from practice at Ron’s plenty of times. Although his purple Allitz shirt was folded

neatly in my dresser back home, it just didn’t seem to have quite the effect on me as the mustard yellow did.

Coach Harrington nodded as if he was considering being impressed before he returned to jotting notes on his clipboard.

“I never would have expected this from you, WB.”

I sucked in my breath and tried to steady my legs, which had suddenly gone weak. There was only one person in the world who had ever called me WB.

“Expected what from me?”

“This,” he said. “You, trying out for the football team like it’s where you’re supposed to be or something. It isn’t like you.”

“Right, because you know what is like me, Jason.”

“I’ve known you since you were three. Of course I know what’s like you.”

“People change.”

Jason merely grinned. “Is that your way of calling me out for not being around lately?”

I raised my eyebrows. I had, of course, been implying just that, but I hadn’t expected him to realize it. “Take it however you want.”

Jason looked over at Coach Harrington, scribbling furiously on his clipboard and shook his head. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell you to get out. Girls shouldn’t be

allowed to play,” he muttered under his breath. “Football is a man’s sport.”

“What did you just say to me?” I demanded, stunned by the person standing in front of me. I’d known that Jason had changed, but this went beyond anything I could

ever have imagined.

He looked up at me with wide, innocent, familiar eyes. “Absolutely nothing,” he replied. “Under normal circumstances, I’d wish you good luck, but these are

definitely not normal circumstances.” He turned to leave, then glanced back over his shoulder. “Nice shirt, by the way.”

I glared at his back. That was what had kept me from football for two years? A three-minute, ridiculously immature conversation with Jason during which he told me

that girls shouldn’t be allowed to play football because it was a man’s sport?

Come on.

Suddenly, I couldn’t understand why I’d lost so much sleep over this.

“Alright.” Coach Harrington blew his whistle and tucked his clipboard under his left arm. He cast a quick glance in my direction before he said anything else. “Let’s

see what you can do.”

“Tell me one thing,” Dirk said when he greeted me as I headed off the field after tryouts. “Why didn’t you do this sooner?”

I smiled. I knew it had gone well, knew that I had played as best as I could have, especially with two years off from the game. Maybe I was even impressive. Coming

back to football was nothing like I’d expected. No, it was much easier and a lot more fun. Most of the guys had been nothing but great to me, but a couple of them, not

unlike the new Jason, seemed to have a sexist opinion when it came to girls and football. More specifically, they seemed to believe the only time I should be on the field

was if I wore a pleated skirt and jumped around waving pom-poms, cheering their name.

“You know,” I replied, my face breaking out into a grin that I couldn’t suppress. “I was asking myself the same question. It’s great to pick up the ball again.”

“I’m so glad you did this!”

“Me, too. Thanks, Dirk.”

“Hey! I meant to tell you! Brenden Clemson and Scott Marino just walked by and they were talking about how much they’d rather see you in shotgun this season.”

Dirk paused, then frowned. “I’m sure that makes plenty of sense to you.” A panicked expression cast a shadow across his face. “Um...that is a good thing, right?”

I laughed and nodded. “Yeah, Dirk. It’s good.”

“Whitney, Whitney, Whitney. You never cease to amaze me.”

I looked up to see Jason’s older brother, Matt, standing in front of me. While Matt and I had never been close, he was the only member of the Victorino family that I

felt even slightly comfortable around anymore.

“You were incredible,” he went on. “Trust me when I say that Jason will be doing a lot of worrying about his starting spot tonight.”

“I don’t think I’d go that far,” I said, and I really believed it. “I don’t think I impressed Coach Harrington enough to start or anything like that.”

“I do. I saw the look on my brother’s face when you completed that one ridiculous pass to Tommy Wolnecky,” Matt said. “You were amazing out there, Whit.

Really.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Jason Victorino feeling threatened by me, by a girl in a man’s sport. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t love the idea.

“I just don’t get it,” Matt continued. “I mean, I know you and my brother don’t talk anymore, but that can’t be your only reason for not doing this sooner.”

I looked down at the grass, suddenly developing a huge interest in how well maintained it was. Matt was right, of course. Jason deserting me wasn’t my only reason

for leaving the game, but I didn’t want to explain it to him, not here, not now, probably not ever. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to put into words what emotions

football held for me.

Realizing that he’d struck a nerve, Matt hurried to recover. “Um. Do you need a ride home?”

I hesitated. On one hand, I’d told my mother I’d hitch a ride with someone, and Matt lived just down the street, but could I really handle the tension of being cooped

up in his small Honda with Jason for the next twenty minutes?

Sensing my reluctance, Matt came up with the selling line. “Jason isn’t coming home with me. He’s going to Elisabeth’s.”

Though the idea of Jason going off with Elisabeth tugged faintly at my heartstrings, I was more relieved that he wouldn’t be with us. “Okay,” I agreed. “Meet you in

ten.”

II.

I waved to Matt from the front porch as he pulled away from the curb and headed down the street towards his house. I smiled as I jammed my key into the dead

bolt.

“Whitney, sit down.” My mom met me as soon as the door swung open. “We need to talk.”

My eyes widened as I tried to think of something I may have done wrong recently, but I couldn’t come up with anything. Frowning, I sat down nervously on the edge

of the couch.

“What’s up, Mom?” I tried to keep my tone as light as possible.

“I called your school this afternoon,” she began. “Right after I received your message. I was curious about what kind of tryouts you could possibly be interested in.

But the school secretary told me the strangest thing. Every team has already held its tryouts except for football and cup stacking. You don’t empty the dishwasher after

dinner when I ask, let alone stack cups for sport. So what interest could you possibly have in the football tryouts? Certainly Dirk didn’t decide to play. That boy has

two left feet if I’ve ever seen--”

“Mom, Mom. Stop,” I cut in, knowing this was like ripping off a stubborn Band-Aid and I had to get it over with quickly. “Dirk didn’t decide to play. I did.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You?”

I only nodded, afraid to say anything else.

My mother sighed loudly and rested her forehead in her hands. “Exactly what I knew you’d say and what I didn’t want to hear. Whitney, I thought we had finally

gotten this football bug out of your system. I cannot believe you would go behind my back like this. I’m sure you’re going to make the team and then what? What am I

supposed to do then?”

“Mom, nothing’s been decided yet. All I did was try out! And this has nothing to do with you. It’s about me.”

“It doesn’t matter, Whitney. You aren’t playing football, whether it is for Ash Valley or the Philadelphia Eagles. No daughter of mine will engage in such an awful

American pastime. Leave football to the boys. They’re the ones who belong on the field, not you.”

Though my heart sank with every word she uttered, I kept my voice strong. I knew I wasn’t making a mistake. “You can’t stop me from playing.”

“I can.” My mom leveled me with her patented stare of steel. “And if I have to, I will.”

I could hardly believe anything I’d just heard. My heart began to pound as I grew angrier and angrier, thinking about what she was saying. I’d finally figured this thing

out. I’d finally tried to find my old love for football again, find a huge part of who I’d been a long time ago—a part of me that had made me so happy--and now my

mother was telling me I couldn’t. There was no way I wasn’t going to play if I made the team. Pretending there was no such thing as football was no longer an option for

me.

Unsure that I could maintain my cool much longer, I ran up the stairs to my bedroom and frantically punched at the buttons on my cell phone.

“Yeah?” the voice on the other end answered.

“Mitch, hey. It’s Whitney.”

“Well, hey there, Miss Berringer. How’s it hangin’?”

I liked Mitch, my brother’s roommate at the University of Texas, from the moment I first met him, but I was in no mood to make small talk with him tonight.

“It’s fine. Can you get Greg, please? It’s important. Thanks.”

I could all but see the hurt expression on Mitch’s face two thousand miles away, but this couldn’t wait. At first, I’d been stunned that my brother had decided to leave

and go to college in Austin, Texas. I’d felt like he was deserting me when I needed him most. Dad had only been gone for a year then and our family was still strewn

about in a maze of broken pieces. But after living alone with my mother for just a few months, Greg’s reasons for leaving home had become crystal clear.

“Whit? What’s wrong? Mitch said you sounded sad about something,” Greg said by way of greeting.

“Yeah. I, uh...I did something today that-”

Greg interrupted me with a groan. “What? Steal something? Smoke pot? Kiss Dirk?”

I grinned. “Greg, you know me better than--kiss Dirk?” I broke off. “Oh, please. I still think he’s gay.”

Greg laughed. “You might be right about that. Has he had his first kiss yet?”

“Nope, not yet.”

“Okay, so then tell me. What terrible thing did you do?”

“Mom got really mad when she found out, but I--”

My brother sighed angrily. “I told you to leave Mom alone when I left. If you tell me you said something to hear about Dad, Whitney, I swear I’ll--”

“Greg, please! Let me finish. I tried out for the football team today.”

“Oh! Whit, that’s great. I never thought you’d get back into it again. How’d it go?”

“Really well. Matt Victorino thinks I should start instead of Jason.”

“That’s incredible. If you make the team, I’m definitely coming to see your first game.”

“Texas isn’t exactly close, you know.”

“Well, maybe Mr. Victorino will tape the game for me.”

“Not if I’m playing.”

“You know, I’m still not entirely sure how you managed to upset Mom in all of this.”

“Talk about football is to be avoided at all costs in this house.”

“Is that all? Don’t worry about it,” Greg replied. “She’ll come around. I bet it all just reminds her of Dad and watching him play when they were together in school.

I’m sure she’ll be fine.” He paused for a second. “You didn’t wear Dad’s old Allitz shirt, did you?”

“Yep.”

“I wore that shirt when I tried out, too. Did Harrington knock you for it? He told me that my attire wouldn’t make me not suck.”

I laughed, surprised I hadn’t gotten the same remark from the infamously haughty coach. “Actually, he seemed kind of impressed.”

“You told him you went.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I didn’t tell him I participated or anything. But, hey, I’ve been to the clinic with Mom to pick you up, haven’t I?”

“Sneak.” Greg paused. “Harrington’ll like that if he ever finds out. Anyway, I have to finish up some work and then there’s this thing over at the frat house. I’ll talk to

you later, okay? Call me when you hear about the team.”

“Sure. Love you, Greg.”

I disconnected the call and sighed. My father had been a football legacy in Connecticut and maybe, just maybe, I’d have a shot at walking in his footsteps in New

Jersey.

“Nervous?”

Sophie and Dirk met me at my locker the next morning. I somehow managed to give them a weak smile without throwing up. I hadn’t slept well last night; I’d laid

there, frozen in place for hours, thinking about a moment that was now just a few minutes away. All I could think about was Coach Harrington’s list, suddenly sure my

name wouldn’t be on his powerful piece of paper.

“No,” I lied, the butterflies in my stomach fluttering rapidly. “I’m okay.”

“Dirk told me you had a great tryout,” Sophie said.

“Yeah, it was fine. I just hope Coach Harrington was as impressed with me as everyone else seems to be.”

“Good luck today, Whit!”

I looked up to see Matt Victorino walking down the hallway, smiling and flashing me a thumbs-up.

“I’m surprised Matt wants to see you do well, given everything that happened with Jason,” Sophie remarked.

“Speak of the devil,” Dirk cut in. “I saw you talking to him before tryouts yesterday. I meant to ask you what that was all about.”

“You talked to Jason and you didn’t tell me?” Sophie’s eyes grew wide.

I just shrugged. To be honest, I’d almost forgotten about my encounter with Jason yesterday. “It was no big deal. He told me that it was uncharacteristic of me to

tryout for a man’s sport in which I clearly don’t belong.”

Dirk snorted. “That boy is so full of himself. I, for one, am glad that I’m nothing like him.”

I exchanged a glance with Sophie, then burst out laughing at Dirk’s indignant expression.

“Trust me, you have nothing to worry about,” she told him. “You don’t have one single thing in common with Jason Victorino.”

Dirk narrowed his eyes; the playful, teasing charm in them suddenly disappearing. “Isn’t it about time to head over to the athletic building?” he asked, focusing all of

his attention on me.

I glanced down at the pink Barbie watch my dad had given me for my sixth birthday. Despite accidentally sending it through the wash cycle once or twice, it still

loyally ticked on. But even if it broke, I couldn’t imagine a time when it wouldn’t sit on its rightful place on my left wrist.

“Unfortunately,” I said, the butterflies fluttering faster and faster. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been this nervous.”

“Good luck,” Sophie said, picking up her bag and turning to walk in the other direction.

“You’re not coming?”

“No,” she said. “No, I don’t think so. You’ll tell me what happens in English later.” With a dismissive wave of her hand, Sophie turned and disappeared around the

corner.

“Well, what the heck was that?” Dirk said as soon as she was gone. “Just where does that girl get off, encouraging you to play and then telling you she has no interest

in what happens? And the way she said I have nothing in common with Jason Victorino. Like that’s a bad thing! Like I should really strive to be just like him.”

“It isn’t important,” I said. “We both know that it’s a good thing that you’re not like Jason.”

He shrugged, but didn’t appear convinced. I didn’t have the energy or the patience to deal with Dirk’s insecurities at the moment.

“Look at all these guys who think they have a shot.” He laughed as Robert Hughes and one of his buddies from the Micro-Organism Appreciation Society hurried

by.

I wasn’t happy to see Elisabeth Turner and Lee Engall’s girlfriend hanging around Coach Harrington’s office. I’d been praying that the list would be up by the time I

got here, but luck wasn’t on my side. I hoped that wasn’t a sign of things to come.

“I guess Harrington had more trouble with the decisions than he expected,” Dirk said. “We might as well wait.”

“Of course.” I couldn’t think about leaving until I saw that list.

As I stood leaning against the wall, heart racing, palms sweating, foot tapping uncontrollably, Brenden Clemson and Scott Marino, two guys who had already made

the team last year, walked up to me.

Scott had dated Sophie for a long time and they’d been everything you’d expect high school sweethearts to be. When their relationship ended about a year ago, neither

of them had revealed what had gone wrong. To this day, Dirk and I still had no real clue why Scott and Sophie hadn’t made it.

Scott, however, was looking more gorgeous than I had ever remembered and I had to tear my eyes from his chiseled calves and try to focus instead on his bright

green eyes.

“Whitney, hey,” Brenden said. I forced myself to look at him instead of Scott. “We just wanted to wish you luck before the list goes up. You played great yesterday.”

I smiled at him, happy to have some support. I knew I had played well at my tryout, but having someone who had actual experience playing for Ash Valley

compliment me made it feel true, made me think this was something I could do for real and not just in the deepest corner of my fantasies.

“Thanks,” I said. “I really appreciate that.” My eyes drifted back to Scott.

“I never knew you loved football like this,” Scott said. “You never really talked about it when I was with Sophie. Why didn’t you play before now?”

Was this now the inevitable question? Would my past follow me around forever like a ghost whose soul was doomed to roam the Earth until the end of time? I didn’t

think I could handle it if every person I’d meet would ask me why I hadn’t picked up the ball until now.

“I...uh...I just never thought I was any good,” was all I could manage to say.

“You’re very good,” Scott said, and I beamed, feeling my cheeks flush pink. “I’m glad you decided to go out for the team this year.”

He was glad I decided to go out for the team this year. Well...so was I, if this was the kind of guy I would get to see everyday.

“Me, too,” Brenden added, reminding me that he was there. “It’d be cool to have a girl as our quarterback. Maybe the other team’s defense would be nervous to hit

you really hard and that’ll make our offensive line better and then that will get you more time in the pocket. I’m sure that’ll make you more accurate and reflect well on

our receivers and then we’ll win more!” His excitement grew with each word. “I don’t see how we can lose with you!”

Dirk frowned. “A pocket? You have to stand in a pocket, Whit? You didn’t do that yesterday, did you?”

Brenden and Scott gave him strange looks, but I just smiled, used to Dirk’s silly questions about sports.

“The quarterback is standing in the pocket when the ball is snapped,” I explained. “It’s generally where we like to throw from.”

Dirk nodded his head vigorously. “Oh, yes, yes. Of course. That pocket, yes, of course. In football. I was thinking of something entirely different.”

I tried to hide my smile and turned my attention back to Scott. “So where’s Coach Harrington with this list? I’m feel like I’m going to pass out over here.”

Brenden shrugged. “There were a lot of guys this year. Probably it took him longer to make the decisions than he thought.”

“Yeah, but shouldn’t some of them be obvious cuts, like, I don’t know, Robert Hughes and friends?”

I glanced over at the Micro-Organism Appreciation Society and shook my head when I saw that they had opened their AP Biology textbooks and were quizzing one

another on definitions and Phylums as they waited. Football clearly was not their priority.

Scott shrugged. “Sometimes guys like that will surprise you. But...most times they don’t. Robert shouldn’t have bothered coming today, but we’ve had the occasional

Cinderella story around here.”

I bit my lip at the mention of a Cinderella story; I wanted to wear that glass slipper--or cleat--more than I’d ever wanted anything else.

The door to the football coach’s office opened and the man of the hour stepped into the doorframe with two pieces of lined yellow paper in his hand.

“Take a step or two back, come on now, a step or two back,” he ordered those who immediately crowded around the bulletin board. “I just want to thank all of you

who came to tryout yesterday. We always get a high number of recruits, but many of you just don’t have the talent or skill to partake in our football legacy here. We are

Ash Valley and we are better than most of you. So congratulations to the fifty of you who are now part of the story we’re continuing to write here. I expect to see all of

you at practice this afternoon.”

Coach Harrington tacked the list to the bulletin board before retreating into his office with the slam of his door. Almost instantly, a group of people attacked the

board, mostly those who would only leave disappointed.

“Aren’t you going to go see if you’re our new quarterback?” Brenden asked me, surprised I wasn’t one of the first to rush to the board in anticipation.

But my legs wouldn’t let me move. I stood rooted to my spot, not wanting to step forward, not wanting to see the list, to see reality, to wake up from the life I had

been living for the past two days. I had found football again and now that it was back in my life, I couldn’t let it go. It was apart of me the way my legs, arms, heart,

mind, and soul all were; football was in my blood, my tears, my sweat, my heart. It meant everything; it simply couldn’t be taken from me now.

“No point,” I replied, trying to steady my voice. “I’ll know what happened based on Jason’s reaction.”

“He’s hanging back, too,” Scott said. “He’s nervous. I’ve never seen him act like this before. But come on, don’t think about him. This is about you...and it’s now or

never. Here, I’ll come with you.”

“Check for me, would you?” Brenden called out.

Dirk was amazed at how cavalier and self-assured the two football players were about this whole process. Then again, you did have to be pretty good to play for

Coach Harrington as underclassmen. Besides, who was he to judge, anyway? His resume wasn’t exactly bursting with his numerous athletic accomplishments.

Scott and I walked towards the list, my footsteps felt heavy, echoing loudly, as if each movement of my leg brought me closer and closer to a shattered dream, as if I

wouldn’t be myself after this moment passed.

I took a deep, steadying breath and forced myself to look at the list.

And there it was.

Quarterbacks

Victorino, Jason

Engall, Lee

Kierely, Aaron

Berringer, Whitney

Before I had a minute to process what this meant, the door to the football office opened again and Coach Harrington stepped out.

“Whitney, wonderful. I trust that you’ve seen the list.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I thought you could only have three quarterbacks on your roster.”

The coach nodded, and I glanced at Scott in confusion. He furrowed his brow, looking just as unsure of where Coach Harrington was going with this as I felt.

“Yes,” he said. “That’s correct. However, I felt that the four of you all displayed both the necessary talent and skill level to bring Ash Valley to the national

championship game for a second consecutive season. You can consider yourselves on probation for the remainder of the week’s practices. None of you have secured a

spot on the roster just yet. My final decision will come after Friday’s practice. If any of you miss a practice, you’re immediately out of the running. Understood?”

I just nodded dumbly, trying to process his decision.

“And, Scott,” the coach added. “I’m sure you’ve seen your name?”

“Yes, sir.”

Coach Harrington nodded, apparently satisfied, and retreated back into his office without another word.

Scott turned to me and gave me a huge hug. “You did it!” he exclaimed happily.

My skin burned from his touch and I hugged him back, wondering why I still felt a huge pit in my stomach. I knew I should be happier about the decision; I still had

football. But I couldn’t smile. I was still just trying out. I hadn’t achieved anything when I really thought about it.

Jason, Lee, Aaron, and I were the only people who had tried out for the quarterback position with the exception of Robert Hughes and beating Robert Hughes was

neither satisfying nor surprising.

There was still a very real chance that I wouldn’t play football. And I couldn’t let that happen.

“What’s wrong?” Scott asked, holding me at arm’s length.

“I didn’t make the team.”

“Well...no,” he said. “Not officially. Not yet! But you have a great chance to play this season. I hope you know that.” He gave my shoulders a light squeeze and my

heart jumped.

“Maybe.”

“Whitney, come on. To be called back by Coach Harrington is a huge accomplishment itself! And for you more so. I know you’re going to hear this a lot and it’s

obvious and all that, but you are a girl and you just got asked to compete to play quarterback on the football team that won the national championship last year. Not

state. Not regionals. Nationals. The best team in high school football.”

Scott stared at me, his green eyes full of concern as though he was hoping I would start believing him and finally act like someone who had just been invited to try out

for the most prestigious high school football team in the country.

The extent to which he seemed to care was enough to lift my falling spirits. By that time, most of the hopefuls had angrily left the athletic building. I didn’t think I’d

ever heard a door slammed so many times in one place before.

“Congrats,” I said to Scott.

“Thanks,” he replied. “No big deal.”

Brenden’s eyes were trained on me and Dirk glared at me, looking as if he was about to burst a few blood vessels in anticipation of my news.

“I have to tryout again,” I said.

Brenden’s expression turned to one of confusion and I saw the outrage in Dirk’s eyes. I told them what Coach Harrington had told me moments ago. Brenden

nodded, as if this made sense to him, but Dirk’s eyes continued to flash.

“You mean you’re not starting?” he demanded.

“No.”

“Not yet,” Scott corrected me.

I couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to finally have people on my side.

III.

Throughout the rest of that day--and more than once--I caught Jason Victorino staring at me. In Precalculus, he practically burned a hole through the back of my

neck, and at lunch, he looked as though he was going to explode when he saw me sharing a table with Dirk, Brenden Clemson, and Scott Marino.

And as much as I wanted to deny it, as much as I wanted to be able to say that Jason Victorino meant absolutely nothing to me, I couldn’t. Despite everything that

had happened between us, I kind of liked having him paying attention to me again.

I didn’t know what, exactly, that meant, but I had a feeling I was about to find out.

“Whitney!” I looked up from my locker later that afternoon. “Whit!” I was just about ready to head over to the athletic building for my first-ever practice with the Ash

Valley football team, but I wanted to stop by Sophie’s locker to tell her everything that had happened.

“Scott, hey.” I looked up into his gorgeous green eyes and smiled.

“Ready to go? Your locker is sort of on my way to the field so I figured I’d see if you wanted to walk over with me.”

“Sure,” I said. “Let’s go.” Thoughts of talking to Sophie forgotten, I shut my locker and grabbed my bag.

As I turned around to head off with Scott, I noticed Elisabeth Turner and one of her friends staring at me from across the hall. Ash Valley was like most high schools

in America; it thrived on gossip, true or false. I had no doubt that the amount of time I’d been spending with Scott today would fuel the rumor mill and news that we

were more than just potential teammates would fly before tomorrow morning’s first bell.

“Why is Brenden talking to Sophie Schofield?” Scott asked me as we walked down the hall.

I frowned and scanned the area. Sure enough, Brenden stood in front of Sophie’s locker, grinning down at her as she laughed like whatever he had just said was the

funniest thing she’d ever heard.

I knew that Scott’s history with Sophie was rocky at best, but that was all I really knew. The two of them had gone on their first date in eighth grade and despite

what everyone had expected, they’d actually managed to maintain a relationship that lasted throughout the summer and into our sophomore year.

Sophie had never exactly told me what went wrong between them and nobody knew for sure. Of course, we speculated and guessed and wondered what could have

happened to drive such a seemingly perfect pair apart. One day we had all been down the Jersey shore together and the next, it was over. They weren’t talking and they

wouldn’t say why.

My heart sped up when I saw her talking to Brenden. I knew that if she saw me with Scott, it would bring everything rushing back and would only upset her, leaving

me with an infinite amount of groveling to do. Scott wasn’t a topic you mentioned with Sophie and hanging out with him was about as taboo as you could get.

From the tense expression masking his face, I guessed that Scott wasn’t exactly happy with the situation either.

“What are the chances we get by them unnoticed?” he asked me, knowing I understand the situation.

“Slim to none,” I replied with a frown. “But we’ve gotta go for it.”

He nodded and we attempted to hurry past them, heads ducked, bodies angled, but for the second time that day, luck wasn’t on my side.

“Whitney!” Sophie called out at the same time Brenden said, “Scott!”

“Bust-ed,” I whispered, and Scott grinned.

“Going to practice?” Brenden asked, oblivious to the instant tension that erupted the second we approached.

Scott nodded, skillfully avoiding Sophie’s eye. He didn’t have to worry about that, though; Sophie was too busy glaring daggers at me.

“Let’s go,” I said, choosing to ignore her stare.

“Oh, tryouts are over,” Brenden said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Harrington won’t cut us if we’re a little late.”

“Tryouts might be over for you,” I replied, trying to keep the ice out of my voice. “But I’m pretty sure he’d use it as a reason to cut me.”

Brenden’s carefree smile disappeared and he reached down to pick up his gym bag. “Let’s go. See you later, Sophie.”

Great. Brenden had just given Sophie one more reason to be mad at me, as if she really needed it.

I looked at her before we left, but she’d already returned her attention to her locker.

“We’ll see you on the field,” Scott said as we reached the athletic building.

I nodded and pushed the door to the girls’ locker room open. The tennis and soccer teams were already there, getting dressed for their own practices.

“I heard about the football thing, Whitney,” Lauren Vaccano, a girl that I sort of knew from middle school, said as she slipped her shin guards on over her sneakers.

“It worked out for you?”

“Um, kind of,” I said, unzipping my bag, glad that Elisabeth Turner was nowhere in sight. The last thing I needed was more snide remarks from Jason Victorino’s

girlfriend, which I was sure would be even worse today now that I was up against her boyfriend for a spot on the team.

Lauren raised her eyebrows, so I filled her in on the current situation.

“Oh,” she said when I finished. “Well, hey, that’s pretty awesome. Just don’t forget about us when you’re starting for the Philadelphia Eagles.”

I smiled. “Yeah, well. I’ve got to avoid getting cut this week before I check the NFL off my list.”

“Nice practice, Whit.”

I looked up, expecting to see Scott or Brenden. They were really the only guys I spent any time with on the team. Most of the players didn’t seem to care one way or

another that I was there, but the friends of Jason, Aaron, and Lee were nothing but rude to me.

“Thanks,” I replied, unable to keep the malice out of my voice.

“So, hey, I’ve kind of been meaning to ask you something. What are you doing Friday night? Um, after practice, I mean.” Jason Victorino shoved his hands into the

pockets of his red-and-white Wisconsin Badgers gym shorts.

My heart dropped and I was almost certain that my jaw went with it. This was, without a doubt, the last thing that I had ever expected to hear from Jason Victorino. I

didn’t know what it meant, I didn’t know how to process it, and I didn’t know why he was asking me this. And I couldn’t, for the life of me, understand why he’d

chosen now, of all the possible times.

My first instinct told me to say no, I wasn’t busy, and hope that he’d ask me to do something with him. Ask me on a date. Luckily, I had more common sense than

that.

“I can’t see why it would matter to you,” I replied, refusing to give him an inch. He didn’t deserve it.

This was Jason Victorino.

Jason, who’d been my friend for so many years. Jason, who I’d shared so much with for so long. Jason, who’d ditched me the minute that things were less than

perfect, the minute things got hard. And what--now that I was back in his world, doing the things that he loved, did he think all was forgiven? Just like that? Just forgive

and forget? Was that what I was supposed to do?

“WB, come on. Get a burger with me. You know where.”

I froze, my mouth running dry, knees forgetting how to hold me up. This was what I had spent so many nights dreaming about. Jason, coming back into my life,

making things right, making me feel like the last two years had been nothing but a nightmare, that it was over now, that things could go back to the way they were, and

my dad would be perched at the kitchen table reading the sports section over a steaming mug of decaf coffee when I woke up in the morning.

I wanted more than anything else to go back to a time when everything was as it had been, when I still had my dad and my best friend and now...maybe this meant I

could finally have one of them back.

I looked at Jason, standing there eagerly, looking nervous as he gnawed at his bottom lip. I saw something in his eyes, like he was almost willing to earn my

forgiveness.

But I didn’t want to kid myself again.

As I quickly thought back to my dad and football in the park and Jason, I remembered an afternoon almost nine summers ago, when I’d been horrified to learn that

some of my friends had gone to the local amusement park without inviting me. I’d refused to talk to them for weeks and didn’t tell them the next time I went ice skating

with some other girls from my class.

My dad had set me down on his favorite worn couch in the basement and told me that he believed in second chances, that everyone deserved one, no matter what

they did to you or what you wanted give them in hopes of achieving some kind of vengeful satisfaction.

And so here was Jason, standing in front of me now, today, holding out his only get-out-of-jail-free card. The only second chance he’d ever get from me.

“We’ll go after practice,” I replied and hurried off the field before I could change my mind.

In the locker room, the gravity of what I’d just done hit me so hard that my knees started to shake and I sank down to the floor, hand over my mouth. Jason was

back in my life. He’d asked me out. And I’d said yes.

Jason Victorino.

All of a sudden, I felt sick to my stomach.

If it had been anyone else asking me out, anyone at all, I would have been excited, happy, and nervous in that wonderful, anticipatory way when you know what

you’re about to do has the potential to be something amazing.

Just give Jason his second chance, I told myself. Everyone deserves a second chance. Don’t forget Dad.

And more than anything else, I wanted things to go back to how they were. This was my second chance at a life that resembled everything I used to know, what I

used to have.

I sighed and got to my feet. I couldn’t really say that I was surprised that, even from his grave, my dad played the central role in bringing Jason back to me.

IV.

I found Sophie first thing Wednesday morning when I arrived at school.

“I have to talk to you,” I said.

“Why?” Sophie asked, refusing to turn to look at me.

“Because you’re my best friend,” I replied. “And I want to talk to you about something.”

“Wouldn’t you rather tell Scott?” she asked, finally lifting her head out of her locker and facing me.

Okay. I deserved that.

“Soph, come on, it’s not like that. I know how you feel about him. I’m not dating him. He just...really wants me to play. And, I don’t know, it’s kind of nice to have

people supporting me.”

She shook her head. “Anybody else, Whitney. Anybody but him.”

“What do you want me to do? Tell him not to hang out with me anymore?”

“Yes!” Sophie cried, her brown eyes welling up with tears. “I can’t believe you would do this to me.”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing!” I shot back. “I know things ended between you two but you never ever told me what happened. How can I know that what

I’m doing is wrong if you won’t tell me why? For all I know, you could have crushed him, Soph.”

She looked at me for a full five seconds before shaking her head. “I don’t want to talk about this with you,” she finally said. “I’ve told you that before and I’ll tell you

it every day until I die if I have to. It’s between me and Scott.”

“Then I’m sorry, but I can’t not hang out with him if I don’t know. You don’t want to tell me what happened and that’s fine, but this is the consequence and that’s

your choice, not mine.”

Silence again.

“Fine,” Sophie said. “Whatever. Do what you want with Scott. Just leave me out of it. I can’t hang out with him anymore. He can’t be around me.”

“I didn’t ask you to see him.”

“Look,” she said with a loud sigh. “What was it that you wanted to tell me?”

It was my turn to stare at her; I was pretty sure I didn’t want to tell her anything important ever again. And why should I? She didn’t want to clue me in on one of the

biggest secrets in her life; why should she get to hear about mine?

“Oh,” I said. “Just what we said already, really. I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I was just really caught up in the football thing. But don’t worry. I’ll try to keep

Scott away from you.”

She nodded. “How was practice?”

“Pretty good. I don’t think I would’ve been cut if he chose yesterday.”

“So...Jason’s still Jason then?”

I hoped I didn’t blush at the mention of his name. “Yeah. Still...Jason.”

“Right.” Sophie paused. “So...you really aren’t going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“Well, I thought you’d tell me that Jason Victorino asked you out yesterday,” she said flatly. “But I guess you don’t trust me enough to help you figure out what to

do.”

My stomach hit the floor in the few seconds it took Sophie to tell me what she already knew. Everyone had already heard about me and Jason? How could that be?

He’d only asked me, what, thirteen hours ago after practice when most students had gone home for the day? And I definitely hadn’t told anyone.

“Oh. Yeah. That.” I tried to play it off like it was no big deal, like it wasn’t consuming just about every single thought I’d had since it happened. “I was just, uh,

thinking things through myself first. You know, figured I’d call Greg and see what he thinks. Then I was going to ask you.”

Sophie just rolled her eyes in disgust. “Why don’t you try the truth this time? I know you said yes. I can’t believe you! What’s the matter with you, Whitney? Do you

even remember everything he put you through? How he ditched you when your dad died? How he threw away your friendship for the jocks and Elisabeth Turner?”

“I remember all of it,” I said quietly. “Probably a little bit better than you do. But my dad used to tell me that everyone deserves a second chance. And that has to

include Jason.” I paused. “He’d want it to include Jason.”

“No. Not everyone, Whitney. Not him. Not someone who abandons you when you need them the most. Do you really think your dad would want this if he could

have seen what Jason did to you after he died?” Sophie shook her head. “You’re so naive. Jason doesn’t like you.”

“Well, obviously he likes me enough to ask me out!” I shot back.

Sophie laughed bitterly. “Guess again. Didn’t you stop and think about this for a second? Jason is still dating Elisabeth Turner.”

I froze. I’d had the perfect comeback ready for whatever Sophie tried to throw at me.

Except that.

Because it was true.

Sophie was right. Of course she was. Jason was still dating Elisabeth.

Why? That was the only word running through my mind. Why would he do this to me? How could he do this to me? Again? Wasn’t hurting me once enough for him?

Did he really need to do it all over again?

It didn’t make any sense until I caught sight of Brenden Clemson walking down the hall.

Football.

I remembered another one of my father’s favorite phrases. Be careful, Whitney, he used to tell me. Almost everyone out there has a second agenda. Most people

are only out for themselves and themselves alone. They’ll do whatever it takes to get ahead, no matter who they hurt along the way. Never forget that.

Sorry, Dad.

I’d forgotten.

“God, could I have been so stupid?” I wondered.

“You know, I probably would have said yes to him, too,” Sophie said, offering me a small smile, a small beacon of hope that perhaps not all was lost between us.

“He must have asked me out so that I’d be distracted from football,” I said, the pieces falling together.

“Which just goes to show you that he thinks you’re a major threat on the field.”

I smiled. “I think I have an idea.”

“Pretend like you have no clue he has an ulterior motive? Let him think football is the last thing on your mind so he lowers his game? Go for it. But a word of advice?”

Sophie paused and swallowed. “Let Scott know what you’re doing, okay? I saw the way he looked at you yesterday. You don’t want to hurt him.”

Sophie looked at me, knowing she had to ask the question she didn’t want the answer to. And I knew what was coming next. “Do you like him?”

“I don’t know,” I replied truthfully. “I mean, yesterday I’m pretty sure I thought I did, but today...I don’t know. I have no idea where I stand with him and if he’s

heard the rumors about me and Jason, I’m betting I’m not one of his favorite people right now.”

“Don’t worry about that. Just talk to him. Look, I know I don’t want to talk about what happened with him, but that doesn’t mean I’m still in love with him, either.

I’m over Scott,” Sophie declared in a voice that betrayed her. “If you like him, I don’t want you to sacrifice something good because of me. What we had ended a long

time ago, and I’m not foolish enough to still have feelings for him. I know what he thinks about me.”

I hesitated. “Okay.” I knew that was what Sophie wanted me to say. “If you’re sure. Thanks. I’m going to try and find him. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“WB!” Jason ran up to me in the middle of Wednesday afternoon’s practice. I swallowed some water as I talked to Scott on the sideline during a rare break in the

action. He’d loved my plan once I’d finally gotten a chance to explain the entire situation.

I glanced over at Jason and gave him what I hoped looked like an adoring smile. “Oh! Jason, hi!” I did my best to look worried. “We’re still on for Friday, right?

You’re not canceling on me?”

“That’s kind of what I want to talk to you about. I know some rumors went around today that I asked you out, but I made sure to tell everyone that was ridiculous. I

hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind?” I repeated, batting my eyelashes. “Why would I mind?”

“Good,” he said with a satisfied smile. “Maybe you know that I’m dating Elisabeth Turner. I don’t really want to break up with her right now. I know that sounds

bad, but it’s complicated. I don’t think you’d understand. Elisabeth is just so possessive and she wouldn’t be happy if I broke up with her to go out with you. But I do

like you, WB, don’t get me wrong. So, I guess what I’m trying to ask is, do you think you could keep our plans for Friday on the down low?”

I beamed up at him. “Oh, of course I can! I wouldn’t want anything to mess up our date! I don’t want to make things hard for you.”

Jason grinned and I knew he figured he had his main competition wrapped tightly around his athletic-taped fingers.

“I’m so glad you see it my way, WB,” he replied before he jogged off to join his friends on the opposite side of the field.

I looked over to see Scott staring back at me.

“Wow,” he said. “You sure football is the way you want to go? A few more performances like that and you could add an Academy Award to your resume.”

I laughed. “Just doing what I gotta do.”

Scott grinned and looked over at Jason and his friends running a few plays on their own time. “Well,” he said thoughtfully. “He thinks you’re smitten for sure. I don’t

see how you can lose. You know, you can cancel on him after Harrington’s announcement Friday. But why don’t we go out for some celebratory pizza instead?”

“Sure. Sounds great to me.”

I smiled as Scott grinned and jogged off. Maybe it was possible to have everything you wanted, after all.

For the rest of the week, convincing Jason that I was into him was much easier than I’d expected. With Scott, Brenden, and Dirk helping me around every turn,

Friday’s practice went horribly wrong for last season’s star quarterback.

He missed his wide open receivers, dropped snaps, threw four interceptions, and didn’t get the ball into the end zone once. I couldn’t stop smiling and after I

connected with Tommy Wolnecky for my third touchdown of the day, Scott and Brenden kept telling me that I had a roster spot in the bag.

Of course I did. How couldn’t I? Anyone could see who the best quarterback on the field was.

Hint: It wasn’t a boy.

The stands were somewhat full when practice ended and Coach Harrington gathered his team at the 50-yard line to announce his big decision. Word about the

quarterback drama had apparently spread around campus.

“Good luck, Whitney!” I heard a few people in the stands call out.

I turned around, along with the rest of the team. Matt Victorino, Sophie, and Dirk smiled at me and I heard a few other cries of encouragement from people I didn’t

recognize.

“Some brother,” I overheard Jason mutter behind me.

“All right, all right. Settle down now, that’s enough, come on, that’s enough,” Coach Harrington said. “I know you all want to hear who will be leading the team this

season. I’m not really a wordy kind of guy, so here goes. Third string is Lee Engall and our back-up will be Aaron Kierley.”

Scott patted me on the shoulder. This had to mean that Jason didn’t even make the team. My plan had worked so much better than I ever thought it could.

“And our starting quarterback,” Coach Harrington continued. “will be Jason Victorino. Congratulations to all.”

And our starting quarterback will be Jason Victorino.

The words reverberated throughout my entire body. No one on the team moved or offered Aaron, Lee, and Jason any congratulations. Apparently, I wasn’t the only

one who felt cheated by Harrington’s announcement, but that wasn’t of any comfort to me.

The crowd in the bleachers sat in stunned silence as Elisabeth Turner hurried onto the field to greet Jason.

“WB, about tonight--” Jason began before Elisabeth reached him.

“Save it,” I snapped. “I never wanted to go out with you. I knew what you were doing this whole time, Jason, and I’m going out with Scott Marino tonight.”

He looked like I’d slapped him, his cheeks grew red and his brow furrowed. I faltered for only a second.

“What? Whitney, I...I really did want to go out with you.”

“Then you would have broken up with your girlfriend first,” I shot back. “Oh, look, here she comes now.”

“Whitney, I’m so sorry.” Scott pulled me away from Jason’s stunned stare. “You deserve that spot more than any one of the guys who made the roster at any

position. If you don’t want to go out tonight, it’s okay. I understand.”

“The last thing I want to do is go home and sit around alone and feel sorry for myself.”

He smiled. “Okay, good. I’ll still come get you at eight then.”

I nodded.

“Look, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go ask Coach why you didn’t make the team.”

“Don’t bother.” I shook my head. “I can tell you why. I didn’t get cut the first time because I’m a girl and that would have made Coach Harrington look bad. But I

also didn’t make the team because I’m a girl. Now he can say he gave me a chance but he just didn’t think I could do it.”

“So what? You can. And that doesn’t mean it’s right. Or okay. You’re better than Jason. End of story.”

“You’re only going off of today’s practice and he had a bad day. But Jason’s dependable and he’s good. He’s only put up one loss in two seasons and he won

Harrington a national title. He won it all. You can’t argue with those results.”

“No, but that doesn’t mean you’re not even better than that. Everyone knows you are. And you know how I can tell? Because the only person out there

congratulating Jason right now is his girlfriend. The team feels just as cheated as you do.”

I shrugged. “It’s over.”

“But--”

Before he could say anything else, I turned and ran off the field, trying to hide my tears. I didn’t want anyone to know how much losing this hurt.

V.

It made no sense to Scott Marino. Not only was Whitney the coolest person on the entire damn football team, but she was also one of the best. He made his

way back to the group of players that had assembled around his coach, no doubt asking why Whitney had been the one to get the axe.

Truth be told, Coach Harrington knew that Whitney Berringer deserved a spot on his roster. She had talent you didn’t find everyday, but he had waited too long

for this sorry bunch of players to get some real recognition in high school football. And to potentially throw his reputation away to play a girl? He wouldn’t--couldn’t---

allow that to happen. Not on his watch.

He had done his part by allowing her to contend for a roster spot, but offering her one of the positions was simply out of the question. It would, he knew, cause

countless coaches across the nation to question his judgment. Ash Valley would become a joke.

As his father had always said, almost everyone has a second agenda and Coach Harrington’s just so happened to be keeping himself ahead of the game. There was

always the possibility that he’d be offered a college coaching position and allowing a girl to play for him would surely be the end of that opportunity.

“I’m sorry,” Coach Harrington said as Scott approached. “There is nothing more that I will do. My decision is final and you will all start behind Victorino this

season.”

Brenden Clemson shook his head. “I won’t start behind him. No way.”

The coach snorted back a laugh. “And just where will you go, Clemson? You’re not exactly in high demand. We can do it without you. You’re lucky to even make

this team. What do you plan on doing instead? Gonna leave Ash Valley? You’d be throwing it all away just because I’m not playing Whitney Berringer.”

“Whitney is my friend, Coach, but it’s more than that. She’s the best quarterback at this school, maybe in the state, and I know you know that. I’m not proud to say

that I used to play for a man who’s willing to sacrifice talent to protect some jock’s overinflated and undeserving ego and his own reputation.”

Coach Harrington’s eyes flashed with momentary panic, but he quickly regained his composure. “Okay, so Clemson quit. Big deal. He isn’t the only reason we’ve

done so well in the past.”

“Well, actually, Coach, he was kind of crucial,” Tommy Wolnecky pointed out. “Without him, we couldn’t have stopped Richard Williams last season. Brenden is the

only reason we beat McCobiak, which brought us to state, which sent us to--”

“Enough!”

For just a minute, Scott considered quitting himself, but it wasn’t as easy for him. Brenden had so much else going for him: he was an honors student, a National

Merit scholar, junior class Vice President and would likely go to college pre-med.

Scott was a football player. Mr. Marino respected him solely because of his performance on the field and if he quit, well, Scott couldn’t be entirely sure his old man

would look him in the eye ever again.

As the crowd dispersed, convinced that there was nothing else they could do to change Coach Harrington’s mind, Scott sighed and looked out over the field. He

finally understood what they meant when they said life wasn’t fair.

V.

“You can stop ignoring me now, Mom,” I said as I waved to Matt Victorino from the front porch. “I didn’t make the team.”

My mom looked up from the magazine she’d been casually flipping through on the living room sofa. I was startled to see anger flash in her eyes.

“You what?”

“I got cut this afternoon. Guess I’m not even good enough to play third string.”

She stared at me for what felt like a full minute before tossing her magazine aside and standing up.

“Whitney,” she began. “I’m sorry I was so unsupportive at first. Your brother called me last night and made me realize how much going back to football means to

you. But you didn’t make it?”

“No. Jason Victorino is starting. Big surprise.”

“That boy again? Your father always used to say that Jason would peak at sixteen, wash out by eighteen.”

I smiled despite myself. “Well, he’s definitely still peaking.”

“I don’t understand this. Those three boys your coach kept around, not all of them can be better than you.”

I shrugged. “Coach Harrington just doesn’t want to risk his reputation by playing me.”

My mom shook her head and opened her mouth to say something else when the phone rang. “I’ll get that,” she said, disappearing into the kitchen. “Whit, it’s for

you.”

“I don’t want to talk to anybody.”

“I don’t think you want to miss this call. It’s from a boy.”

I shrugged. That meant it was either Dirk, who probably would have called my cell phone, or someone from the team and I didn’t really want to talk to either.

“It isn’t Dirk,” my mom added, staring at me for a few seconds. “Whitney, I already told him you’re home. Now go and take this call.”

I sighed, pulling myself to my feet.

“Hello,” I said flatly, earning a disapproving glare from my mother.

“Whitney? Hi, it’s Brenden. Um, Brenden Clemson.”

“Hi.” I frowned, wondering why he hadn’t called my cell phone.

“Hey. Look, I’m calling for a reason. I just wanted to let you know that I quit the team this afternoon before you heard it from someone else.”

I almost dropped the phone. “What? Brenden, why would you do that?”

“Because of what Coach said after practice. He all but admitted that even though you’re better than Jason, the fact that you’re a girl is the only reason you’re not on

the team right now.”

“So you quit because of me?”

“No. I quit because I can’t play behind someone who isn’t the best and I won’t play for a coach who’s only looking out for himself. That’s not what it’s supposed to

be.”

“Wow, Brenden, that’s--that’s so...I don’t know. No one has ever done anything like this for me before. I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything,” he said. “You don’t have to. I just wanted to let you know myself.”

“But I feel like I should! Well, I mean...thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I just hope you know that there are people who are behind you no matter what.”

“I appreciate that,” I said. “A lot.”

“Okay. Well, see you Monday, Whitney.”

I put the phone back in its cradle and stood there for a minute, stunned. I hadn’t even spent that much time with Brenden and here he was, quitting the team on my

behalf.

Maybe, just maybe, I really was better than Jason Victorino.

The way things were going these days, I had no way to tell.

“So,” Scott Marino said as he picked up a piece of pepperoni pizza and swatted at the dangling strings of cheese. “I’m sure you heard that Brenden quit today.”

“Yeah. He called before you came over.”

“You know I’d love to do something like that for you. You know, really show Coach Harrington the mistake he made. But I can’t. Football is the only reason my

dad even talks to me. I’m afraid that quitting will ruin whatever screwed up relationship I have with him.”

I put down my slice of pizza and stared at him. “What, do you think I want you to quit?”

“Well...I don’t know,” he admitted. “I mean, it seems so...so, I don’t know...noble of Brenden to quit for you and here I am, out with you tonight, and I didn’t do a

thing.”

“Don’t quit.” I shook my head.

“Wasn’t gonna,” he replied with a grin. “Not even for you, Whit.”

“Good. And if I get my way, Brenden will be back on the team by Monday.”

Scott just snorted. “Not likely. Harrington’s not happy about this. Brenden quit, that’s it, he’s done. We don’t get second chances at Ash Valley. He should probably

try to play for Clinton Central or something.”

“Kind of like me, huh?”

“Come on, stop it. You know you’re better than Jason, no matter what Coach wants to think about that. Any team would be really lucky to have you.”

“Except Ash Valley.”

“No. Especially Ash Valley.” Scott shook his head. “Do you realize how bad the team will be now? No one wants to play behind Jason except for his friends, a

couple of guys on special teams. The offense and the defense is behind you and no one wants to play for someone who is only second best. There’s no way things are

going to be good this year.”

“That’s just dumb,” I protested. “I don’t get why you guys would throw anything away here. For what? For me? That’s ridiculous. So many of the guys, they have

these amazing opportunities to play college ball. For powerhouse programs! D1 schools, Scott. To give that up because of some stupid coaching decision? Why?”

“People like you,” he said with a shrug. “And they like how you play. A lot of them think you’re worth it.”

I shook my head. “I wish they didn’t.”

“Be glad they do.”

“Well,” I said, letting a small sigh escape my lips. “There’s not much I can do about it now, I guess. I’ll try not to worry about it. But hey, there’s a big game Tuesday

night, isn’t there?”

He nodded and smiled. “Season opener. You coming?”

“Of course. I’ll just be in the stands, not on the field. It’ll be fine.”

“You never know what’ll happen next,” Scott said, stuffing the last piece of crust into his mouth. “Ready to go?” He wiped his hands on a cheap paper napkin and

slid out of his end of the red vinyl booth.

I glanced down at the half-eaten piece of pepperoni pizza lying on my grease-stained paper plate. Apparently, I didn’t have a choice. Scott was ready to leave now

and who was I to make him wait when he’d been nothing but supportive of me for the last week?

Our car ride home was silent save for the soft sounds of Jason Mraz singing over the radio speakers. I sat buckled into the passenger seat, not quite wanting to

believe that tonight had really happened. Scott had been perfectly willing to talk football with me, but when it came time to discuss anything else, he’d shut down and

been ready to end the night. How could this be the same guy who I could toss a ball around with and tease during practice to someone who didn’t have anything to say

to me at all?

“That was fun, Whit,” he finally said as he steered his black Volvo into my driveway. “Almost as much fun as chilling with you during practice.”

I smiled, but felt a lump rising in my throat. It hit me for the first time that practices with Brenden and Scott were over for good. I wouldn’t get to run drills and take

water breaks with them anymore. There would be no more making fun of Jason when he threw a particularly ugly pass or doing my best to outshine him. There would

be no more walking to the athletic building together after Chem class.

It ended so abruptly that I hadn’t even had a chance to prepare for it, a chance to think about what it would be like to go back to being the old version of me that

didn’t have football in my life. I’d been so sure that I had a spot on the team locked up, even if it was just third string, that I had never bothered to consider what it

would be like if everything just...stopped.

“Yeah,” I said. “Too bad it’s over.”

“It doesn’t mean we won’t be friends, Whitney.”

I nodded even though my heart sank at his words. Friends. Was that all this had been to Scott? A casual outing between friends? Between almost-teammates? That

wasn’t exactly what I had thought he had in mind. I hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself, but in the last week, I’d grown kind of...attached to Scott. I’d begun to think of

him as someone I could see myself with, as someone that would always be there.

But maybe this was really all for the best. Scott had what I wanted. He was a star at Ash Valley; he got to suit up for games and walk onto the field under the lights to

the cheers of the crowd and play the sport I loved. Eventually, I’d begin to resent him for that. So it was better to stay away...wasn’t it?

“Yeah,” I said. “I know we’ll still be friends.”

“I’ll see you Monday, okay, Whit?” he asked as I opened the passenger side door and stepped out of his car.

I nodded again, startled that he hadn’t even bothered to walk me to the front door.

Yeah, this has definitely been nothing more than a trip for pizza between friends.

I sighed and unlocked the front door. My luck had finally turned sour.

VI.

That Saturday afternoon, I climbed the steps to the top of the bleachers at Ash Valley’s football stadium. On the muddied field below, fifty of the school’s supposed

finest ran over drills and plays in preparation for Tuesday’s season opener.

I sighed and sat down, staring up at the clouded gray sky, waiting for the rain to fall.

As I watched the team practice, it started to make less and less sense to me. Why wasn’t I being given the same chance as the rest of the guys?

Yes, I knew Coach Harrington’s reasons. I even understood them, when I really thought about it, but that didn’t mean it was right. I was just as good as the guys in

uniform and we all knew it.

Playing football had been all I’d ever wanted to do for eleven long years. I’d lost my love of the game when I’d lost my dad, but now I was back, ready to play

again, and I couldn’t.

What would my dad say if he knew about all of this?

I paused, then realized I knew exactly what he’d tell me.

He’d want to know why I was sitting around, feeling sorry for myself, watching others do what I knew I could do, trying to put on a brave face, wishing for

something I would never, ever get. He’d asked me why I wasn’t trying something else to make my dream a reality.

Not that there was a whole lot I could do. I knew Coach Harrington would never let me play. But...hadn’t Scott mentioned something last night? About Clinton

Central’s football team? I hadn’t thought twice about it then, but now.....

Well, why not? It seemed a little far-fetched, maybe, but I’d already come this far. Would it kill me to look into it a little?

Clinton Central High School. If I did manage to make the team there, what sweet, sweet revenge that would be. The Panthers were, without a doubt, Ash Valley’s

biggest rival and playing for them...well, Coach Harrington would have to realize what a huge mistake he’d made by cutting me.

And what if I even managed to start for Clinton Central?

My fantasy began to spiral out of control now. Starting against Ash Valley in a rivalry game, maybe even in the state championship! There was nothing I wanted more

and I could practically taste the deliciousness of my new plan.

And then it hit me and the weight of its meaning almost bowled me over. Not only would I be going up against Ash Valley, but I’d also be thrown into a head-on

collision of the quarterbacks with Jason Victorino.

Maybe that idea would have scared me before, but it didn’t now. Nothing appealed to me more. I began to tap my foot wildly as I imagined the possibilities, the

drama, the implications, the heartache for him, the glory for me. This was the opportunity I had been waiting for. This was what Scott had been talking about last night

when he said that you never knew what was going to happen next.

He was right, but I knew now.

Looking down at the dirty field below, I smiled a real smile, a warm wave of freedom washing over me for the first time since Coach Harrington’s stunning

announcement.

Maybe these were the fifty best players at Ash Valley and I knew now that I would never be one of them, but put me in a Clinton Central Panthers uniform, and I

would stop at nothing to prove who could play football in New Jersey.

By the time I got home from the stadium, my excitement about my Clinton Central dream had begun to fade. It wasn’t realistic and as the lump in my throat returned

with a familiar sense of dread, I was suddenly sure this would remain nothing more than a fantasy.

But I had to try. I knew that much. It was like Dirk had said to me before my first tryout. If I wouldn’t do this for myself, I had to do it for my dad.

I sat down at my computer and looked up the phone number to Clinton Central’s athletic office and found exactly what I was looking for in a matter of seconds. I

punched the ten digits into my cell phone and stared at them, my finger refusing to press ‘send.’

Not calling, I knew, would turn into one of the biggest regrets in my life.

So I pressed the button.

After speaking with Clinton Central’s coach, Mr. Alvarez, for a few minutes, I’d secured myself a tryout with the Panthers.

Mr. Alvarez had sounded legitimately interested in my story; I prayed it wouldn’t turn into another situation like with Coach Harrington, where I was only getting a

shot that would never really amount to anything because I happened to be a born a girl and football happened to be dominated by boys.

Still, I had to smile. I was in a better place now than I had been when I woke up this morning, and I was finally doing something--anything--to keep football in my life,

no matter how far-fetched it might be. Even if I wound up never playing for a team in my life, I could be happy knowing that I’d done all that I could. It was already

enough for me.

This was one chance I wasn’t willing to let pass me by.

I picked up my phone again to send Scott a quick text telling him my news, but something--I wasn’t sure what--stopped me.

I hadn’t wanted to admit it, but I felt kind of funny about playing for Ash Valley’s biggest rival after the whole Brenden situation. Instead of telling Scott, I closed my

computer and climbed into bed. No sense in stirring up everybody’s emotions until I knew I absolutely had to.

And as I laid in bed, unable to fall asleep, I thought about my dad and second chances and how everything he’d ever told me had become so crucial in my life lately.

I hadn’t realized it before, but this opportunity at Clinton Central...this was my second chance. And if anyone deserved one these days, I knew it was me. I’d

overcome two years of not being able to look at a football without tearing up or getting angry and had somehow brought myself to the point where I’d almost become a

starting quarterback.

Well, okay, so technically Coach Harrington had never actually intended on giving me a uniform, but I’d made it through all of the emotional hurdles I needed to. And

being back in Jason’s world wasn’t nearly as painful or hard as I’d spent so many nights imagining it would be.

I rubbed my head and turned off the light. I’d think about this more in the morning, but right now, I thought it was about time I ended a day happy.

My appointment at Clinton Central was scheduled to take place late Sunday morning. I was supposed to meet with Mr. Alvarez in his office and then we’d head out

to his team’s Sunday afternoon practice where I’d get a chance to show him some of my skills.

I’d immediately fallen in love with the idea of practicing on Sundays; it felt so professional, so real. No wonder the Panthers had surprised just about everyone and

nearly beaten Ash Valley in last season’s state championship game. And if it hadn’t been for Brenden Clemson’s amazing defensive stop on the final play of the game,

Clinton Central would have pulled off the improbable upset.

“Whitney Berringer?”

I looked up and smiled at the tall, fit, brown-haired man with sparkling blue-green eyes and a deep tan who greeted me as I opened the door to Clinton Central’s

beautiful, brand-new athletic building.

“It’s great to meet you,” he said.

“Hi,” I replied lamely, taken aback by the man’s youthful appearance. “Mr. Alvarez?”

“The one and the only. Why don’t you come on in here?” he said, gesturing towards his office. “Have a seat.” He pointed at one of the two chairs positioned in front

of his desk.

As I waited for him to finish whatever it was he’d been doing on his laptop before I arrived, I looked around the room. Yellowed newspaper clippings covered the

walls, many of them about his own triumphs in high school and college football. One headline in particular jumped out at me, nearly knocking me to the floor:

‘Alvarez and Berringer Dominate to Send Plymouth to Title Game!’

A fuzzy, black-and-white photograph of two young football players, one piggy-backed on the other, their fists held high in triumph, smiles as genuine and happy as

could be, accompanied the story.

“You knew my father?” I asked as my mouth ran dry. I knew my dad had been a star at Plymouth High School in Connecticut.

Mr. Alvarez looked up and nodded. “Yes, I did. You didn’t know? We were great friends in high school, on and off the field. I’m truly sorry about what happened

to him, Whitney.”

“Yeah,” I said faintly, mind reeling from this new discovery. “Thanks.”

The coach smiled warmly. “It doesn’t surprise me at all that you’ve got the talent of a future football star. It’s in your genes, as sure as your hair and eye color are. I

hope you don’t mind if I ask you to tell me exactly what happened at Ash Valley.”

I shook my head, telling him the entire sinister story from start to finish.

“That is a crying shame,” Mr. Alvarez said a few seconds after I finished. “I knew I didn’t like that man, but I could never quite figure out why. He never had any

intention of keeping you on the roster from the moment you stepped onto that field. But I’ll tell you this right now. If you play the same way that your father did, I have

no doubt the Panthers will welcome you with open arms. What do you say we go ahead and meet the team and see a little of what you can do?”

I nodded, shocked by his overwhelming show of support and belief that I’d be good enough, and followed him out of the building and into the Panthers’ new

stadium.

As I walked through the team gates, my jaw dropped. It didn’t even begin to compare to the facilities at Ash Valley. Here, they had at least five hundred extra seats

and the white yard lines on the grass were crisp and fresh, as if they had just been painted that morning. Ash Valley’s grounds crew only went over the lines before

games, never just a weekend practice. The scoreboard was new and electronic; changing the score at Ash Valley had to be done by hand.

“Whoa,” I breathed. “This is incredible.”

Coach Alvarez blew his whistle and the group of guys jogging laps around the edge of the field assembled around him, sweaty and with heavy breath, examining me

with unabashed curiosity.

“Hey, Coach, that your daughter?” one of them hollered. “Thought you said you’d never let us meet her!”

“Glad you changed your mind!” another called out, eyeing me. One of the guys let out a low wolf whistle and I blushed, glancing out over the empty bleachers.

“Settle down, you monkeys, settle down,” Coach Alvarez said with an amused shake of the head. He glanced over at me. “You sure you know what you’re getting

yourself into?”

I just nodded and smiled.

“When I told you boys that you’d never meet my daughter, I meant it. You think I want her anywhere near you raging bundles of testosterone?” He chuckled. “Now,

back to business. How many of you heard about the girl over at Ash Valley who tried out for the football team there?”

“I have,” one of them said. “My cousin plays there. He said she was really good, but got cut because their coach didn’t want to put a girl in.”

“Right. Well, meet Whitney Berringer.”

The guys looked at me with even more interest than before.

“You?” the guy who had a cousin at Ash Valley said. “Wow. I mean, Lee said you were cute, but...wow.”

“Take it easy, Glading. Miss Berringer is here to show us what she’s got. She’ll decide if she wants to play for us this season.”

“Can you do that?” Glading asked. “Be a student at one school and play for another?”

“Nope. She’d become a Clinton Central student. I can see you’ve done your laps, so let’s show Whitney how talented we are and let’s see what she can do for us.”

“I’ll let you know our final decision by the end of the day tomorrow,” Coach Alvarez told me after practice ended. “But I wouldn’t lose too much sleep over it.”

“Sure,” I said. “Thanks.”

As I walked back to the front of the athletic building to meet my mother, one of the guys from the team fell into step beside me.

“Hi,” he said. “I just wanted to introduce myself and welcome you to our team.”

I smiled. “That’s really nice of you, but I’m not part of your team.”

He gave me a knowing grin. “Oh, but you will be. Our quarterback is really bad after last year’s starter graduated and went to play at Michigan. Coach would have to

be an idiot not to ask you to play here.”

“Yeah, I thought that once before and look where it got me,” I muttered. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh. Right,” he said with a small, embarrassed laugh. “Trenton Lane.”

“Running back?”

“Surprised you noticed,” he said, and I just shrugged. “So if you get the spot, are you gonna take it?”

Another shrug. “I don’t know. I have a few things I need to think about.”

He nodded. “Like leaving your friends to come here?”

“No, that’s not a big deal. It’s just...complicated, I guess.”

Trenton smiled. “Yeah, okay, I understand that. Well, good luck, Whitney. I’m sure I’ll see you at practice this week.”

I said good-bye before climbing into the front seat of my mom’s waiting car.

“Well, he was certainly cute, don’t you think?”

I shrugged. “Didn’t notice.”

My mom looked at me as I stared out the car window at the Panthers’ incredible stadium.

Who was I kidding? I would absolutely love to play here. I’d give just about anything to do it. If only Brenden hadn’t quit, everything would be falling into place.

“Whit?” my mom gently prodded.

“Mom,” I said, my voice cracking, tears threatening. My brave face was begin to fall apart. “I want to play here. I need to do it. But I can’t. I know that I can’t. I

could never feel completely right about it knowing everything that Brenden gave up because I didn’t have an opportunity like this. I know it might not make a lot of

sense, but I just don’t see how I can do it. I can’t take from him what he gave up for me.”

“I don’t think he intended to make things harder for you, Whitney. I’m sure he’d be happy that you’re getting the respect he clearly thinks you deserve. But my

opinion means nothing here,” my mom replied. “You need to talk to him about this.”

“I don’t want to tell him. I can’t.”

“You have to,” she replied. “Or else you’ll throw this all away for nothing.”

“Not until I hear back from Mr. Alvarez. I could upset Brenden for nothing. I could be upsetting myself over nothing. I’m not a Panther yet. They might not even want

me.”

“If you get this chance, you have to tell him.”

“I will.”

“How did the tryout go?” she asked, shifting the gear into drive as she pulled away from the curb.

I wiped at the tears that had gathered at the corners of my eyes and smiled for the first time since I got into the car. “Well, I think I played okay.”

“Did Mr. Alvarez say anything to you before you left?”

Suddenly, it occurred to me that if Mr. Alvarez knew my dad while he was in high school and college, then he had to have known my mother, too. And if he knew

her....

“Mom,” I said. “Did you have something to do with all of this?”

My mother only smiled and kept her gaze focused on the road in front of her. I narrowed my eyes, but grinned to myself. I wasn’t exactly in a position to turn down

help from anybody.

“I meant to ask you,” she said. “Did everything go okay on your date last night? You didn’t seem like yourself when you came home. I thought it probably had

something to do with Mr. Harrington, but--”

“My date,” I repeated, pausing to decide whether or not I really wanted to get into this with my mother. “That’s...that’s what I thought it was, too. But Scott made it

perfectly clear it wasn’t anything like that. He kept calling us friends.”

I could still hear his exact words as if he was in the car with us now, saying it all over again.

“He didn’t give me a hug good night. Nothing. He didn’t even walk me to the door.”

“You just met him. You can’t expect a relationship to develop after only knowing him for four days.”

I studied my mom critically between narrowed eyes. What did she know anyway? Obviously, she was just trying to soften Scott’s rejection.

“Being friends with someone isn’t a prerequisite for dating them. Sophie dated a guy for five months that she met at her grandparents’ shore house. Their first date

happened the night they met!”

“Well, that doesn’t surprise me,” my mom replied with a laugh. “We’re talking about Sophie, after all. But many relationships come from friendships and I’ve always

thought that getting to know someone slowly is a wonderful way to find the grounds for a romantic bond later.”

I just shrugged. “I think you just want to make it easier for me to hear that Scott isn’t interested. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that. I’d rather just hear the

truth.”

My mom nodded, but she didn’t respond. We rode the rest of the way home in silence as I tried not to bring up Scott again. The second she parked the car in the

garage, I hurried up to my room.

Even my mother thought Scott Marino didn’t want to date me. But if he only wanted to be friends, then why had he asked me out in the first place? Maybe he’d

thought he’d made it clear that he only wanted friendship from me, but I knew that he hadn’t. And now, he hadn’t even bothered to talk to me once since Friday night.

Yeah, Scott was making his position on dating me excruciatingly clear. I was a friend, a former teammate, a new face to talk sports with, just another person who

could toss the ball around after school.

Jason and I, we’d been friends and only friends for eleven years. Eleven years of me wishing that we could somehow finally become more. Jason, I knew, never

wanted that. And Scott didn’t either.

So here I was, four days closer to the eleven-year mark of wishing that Scott would see me as more than just a girl who loved football.

I didn’t want to spend another eleven years of my life stuck in a friendship that would only end in bitter, bad memories, a friendship where our expectations didn’t--

couldn’t--align. I didn’t want to spend another eleven years of my life in love with someone who would never love me back, no matter what I did or how hard I tried.

I could forget about Scott and look at him as just a friend, nothing more, but it wouldn’t be that simple. If it was, I would never have lost so much because of Jason,

and I wouldn’t be heading down the same dangerous path again.

If only, I thought, if only it was that easy to forget.

Later that night, after I’d showered and tried and failed to put Scott, Jason, Brenden, and football out of my mind, I laid on my stomach, sprawled across my bed,

reading a Shakespeare play for English, when a quick glance at my desk revealed that the red light on my cell phone was blinking.

I had a new voicemail.

Mr. Alvarez.

My future sat in that tiny silver cell phone perched casually on my desktop. All I had to do was stand up, slide it open, and dial my voicemail. That was the only thing

keeping me from a possible career in a Panthers uniform.

So why was I still in bed?

Opening that phone and calling my voicemail meant that I would know for sure if I would ever play high school ball. That message would tell me whether or not I had

to call Brenden Clemson to tell him that he had quit for nothing. And that message could very well end my newfound friendship with him.

“Just do it,” I muttered as I forced myself to get up.

I picked up the phone and looked down at it in my hands. Sure enough, I had a missed call from Mr. Alvarez. After two deep breaths, I pressed the call button.

“Whitney, hello. Mr. Alvarez over at Clinton Central. I know I’d told you we’d likely get back to you tomorrow, but I couldn’t help but want to share the good news

with you. We’d love it for you to become a Panther. Think it over and give me a call back tonight or sometime tomorrow.”

So. I’d done it.

I’d proven what I’d always known. I was good enough to start for a powerhouse high school football program. But I didn’t let myself smile.

Brenden.

I sighed heavily and knew it was time to do this. I couldn’t talk to Mr. Alvarez until I talked to Brenden. It’s just--what do you say to someone who gave up their

dream because you weren’t getting a fair shot at yours? How do you tell that person that their efforts, while they would always mean the world to me, had been for

nothing? How do you tell that person you’re getting the chance they threw away because of you?

I didn’t have the answers, but I was about to find out.

I scrolled through my contacts list until I found Brenden’s name and, with shaking hands, pressed the call button.

“Hello.” Brenden’s voice sounded rough, gravelly, as though I’d woken him up.

“Brendenhiit’sWhitney,” I blurted in a rush.

“Hey, Whit.” His voice took on a tone of confusion. “Actually, I’m glad you called. I need to talk to you about something real quick. Scott kind of called in a favor

and I feel really, really dumb doing this, but I owe him.”

Brenden mistook my surprised silence as an invitation to continue.

“He wanted me to make sure you know he has a girlfriend.”

And Scott’s hits just kept on coming.

I froze, thoughts of my news for Brenden immediately flying out of my spinning head. I didn’t know what to say or how to react. My suspicions were confirmed, but I

wished more than anything that I’d been wrong. Before now, there was always that slim possibility that he really did like me, that I was just overreacting like I tended to

do. But I’d been right. He only wanted friendship--and football--from me.

He had a girlfriend.

O course he did.

Did you really think Scott Marino--Scott Marino, for God’s sake--would be interested in you?

Of course I did.

He had asked me out. Well, apparently he hadn’t, if he had a girlfriend. He probably thought he’d just asked me to chill. To hang out after practice. It’d been more to

me than it was to him.

Great.

“Whitney?”

I’d forgotten about Brenden, who was still waiting on the phone.

“Oh! Sorry. I was just...um...surprised, that’s all. Look, Brenden, I, uh, I have some news of my own.”

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice immediately filling with concern. That, of course, only made me feel worse about what I was about to do.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Listen, I just really want to thank you again for what you did with Mr. Harrington on Friday. You have no idea how much that means to me.

But this morning, I was offered an opportunity to play football for Clinton Central.”

My great confession was met with silence.

“Oh.” Brenden cleared his throat. “Okay. Well, hey, congratulations. You deserve it. And don’t worry about me, I don’t regret quitting. I’d do it again.”

“I hate to do this, Brenden, but I just can’t say no.”

“It’s okay. Really. I understand. I don’t want you to say no. Look, I’ll see you in school tomorrow, okay?”

“Oh. No, you won’t.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re going to fake the stomach flu or something because of Scott.”

“No, no. It’s just that I have to transfer if I want to play in Clinton.”

“Wow. Well. Okay. But congrats again. Like I said, there’s nobody I’d want this for more. Later, Whitney.”

I sat back down on my unmade bed, phone still clutched tightly in my hand. Brenden hadn’t seemed too upset and I couldn’t believe it was finally over.

I felt freedom rising in my chest, a feeling I hadn’t experienced in awhile. I’d done it. It was time to play. This was real.

There was nothing holding me back from lighting up the field at Clinton Central.

I didn’t bother calling Scott to share my news with him. He had a girlfriend. What I did or didn’t do had no impact on him and I doubted he would even care in the

first place.

I wasn’t about to make it seem as though I wanted more than he was willing to give.

VII.

“Nervous?” my mother asked as she drove towards Clinton Central on Monday morning.

I didn’t avert my gaze from the buildings passing outside the window. “I don’t know,” I replied. “I guess not. I just want to play, you know?” I hesitated. “Especially

against Ash Valley.”

She smiled. “That’s going to be one heck of a game. I wouldn’t be shocked if Greg came home from Texas just to see you go up against Jason Victorino. Are you

sure you’re going to be okay now?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll be fine. Yes, I’m sure.”

My mother nodded and brought the car to a stop next to the curb in front of the high school. I smiled, thanked her for the ride, and hopped out without looking back.

Clinton Central High School.

I stared at the scene in front of me. On the lawn, boys dressed in khaki shorts and polo shirts tossed a Frisbee back and forth while girls sat under trees, watching,

talking, and laughing. I’d never seen anything quite like this before. No one at Ash Valley waited for the first bell to ring outside. And as far as the Frisbee was

concerned, I didn’t think anyone at my old school would ever think to bring one to campus.

What was I doing here? It was like a first day of school all over again. Today, though, today was a real first day at a new place with new people, halls, and culture.

It was kind of cool, though, that I was stepping into this place with such...power. Status. I didn’t exactly know the word for it, but I doubted that anyone walking past

me realized that the ordinary-looking, five-foot-eight, brown-haired, green-eyed new girl would be leading their precious football team beginning that afternoon.

By the time I made my way inside, it felt like all of the Frisbee-playing students had flooded the halls at the same time and I was beyond lost. I had the overwhelming

idea that Clinton Central was very different, maybe almost too different.

After a few minutes of aimless wandering, trying to read numbers on doors, I stumbled across the school’s office.

“Excuse me,” I said. “My name’s Whitney Berringer. I’m new.”

The woman behind the mahogany desk smiled warmly at me and nodded. She leaned across her desk, almost knocking her Styrofoam coffee cup over in the

process, as she picked up a green file folder.

“Yes,” she said. “This is your new student packet. It contains your schedule and all the other information you’ll need. Good luck.”

I frowned as I reached over and took the folder from her. Good luck? That was it? No directions? No help? Just a folder and this woman’s luck? I flipped open the

file and saw that I had Chemistry class first in Room 507. Meaningless.

The bell signaling what I guessed was the end of homeroom rang and the halls were crowded once again. I had no idea how I was supposed to find anything on my

own when I couldn’t even read the room numbers on the doors.

I sighed and realized I’d have no choice but to wait until everyone had gone into their classrooms before I could even begin to try to decode this maze of unfamiliar

hallways.

Though it took me almost fifteen minutes and more than my fair share of wrong turns, I finally found Room 507...mostly by accident and sheer dumb luck.

“I thought you might have a hard time finding us, Whitney. I should have sent someone to the office to help you.”

I looked up, startled. Coach Alvarez stood in front of the blackboard, white chalk in hand, as he smiled down at me. What was he doing in my Chem class?

Welcoming me?

“Sorry. I was...ah...talking to the secretary. Otherwise, I’m sure I would’ve been here on time. Maybe.”

He smiled before he gestured towards the rest of the class. “Don’t look so surprised to see me here. I have a Chemistry degree from Arizona State. But that’s beside

the point. You don’t have any teammates in this class or I’d have you sit with them. Instead, I’m sure that Jeremy Norway would be more than welcoming.”

Coach Alvarez nodded in the direction of a boy dressed in black shorts with pink and purple striped knee socks running up his leg. His shirt was black and featured

the name of a band that I’d never heard of scrawled across the front in blood red script. His ears were full of studs and hoops and I could see the trail of a tattoo

peeking out from under his shirt sleeve.

“Whitney joins us for a very special reason,” Coach Alvarez began from the front of the classroom once I’d taken my seat.

My eyes widened. Oh, no. No, no, no. He wasn’t really going to tell the class that I was here as the new starting quarterback, was he? I’d wanted a day or two to

get used to my new environment before I had the pressure of my responsibilities on the field thrown in my face.

“It shouldn’t come as a big surprise that Trent Cunningham is not the answer at quarterback after Roger Avon graduated. Whitney here was an Ash Valley student

who tried out for the football team there, but was cut simply because of her gender. This weekend, we had her join our team for practice and she stunned us all with her

natural talent and well-developed skill. She’ll be replacing Trent Cunningham as our starting quarterback effective immediately.”

Silence. Dead silence.

I hadn’t been sure what to expect when the students at Clinton Central began to find out about me, but this wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind.

Slowly, Jeremy Norway turned and faced me.

“You?” he said at last. He looked back at Coach Alvarez. “Her? Don’t you think that’s a little extreme? I’m sure that Trent Cunningham is better than she is. And,

besides, if she really is as good as you claim that she is, then why would she get cut at Ash Valley?”

“Like I already mentioned, Jeremy, Mr. Harrington based his decision solely on the fact that she’s a girl. He felt that allowing a female to play for him would ruin his

reputation with various coaches and athletic organizations that he’s earned respect from throughout his career. He’s simply afraid to take a risk that would have likely

paid high rewards.”

“But...her? I mean, Mr. Alvarez, just look at her! She’s hardly got a quarterback’s physique and she’s dressed just like every other chick in this place! She’s high-

maintenance and afraid of breaking a nail,” Jeremy rambled on. “Clinton Central isn’t some three-and-fourteen team. We need talent in shotgun.”

I stared at Jeremy, feeling my blood begin to stir. Here was this kid who didn’t even know me, and he was judging my talent based on...what? The fact that I’d worn

jeans and a cute shirt that day?

“Excuse me,” I cut in. “But I don’t think--”

“This doesn’t concern you,” Jeremy snapped without bothering to look at me.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure it does,” I replied, my voice dripping with ice. “You have never seen me play before. You have no idea if I’m talented or not. Don’t tell me

that I’m high-maintenance because you don’t have a clue if that’s true or not! And if it was, why would I have tried out at Ash Valley? Why would I even be here? Why

would I have played football for eleven years of my life?”

“I don’t know.” Jeremy shrugged, not bothered by my argument. “You probably wanted an in with the jocks at your old school. Maybe you had a crush on one of

the guys or something and figured the best way to get him to notice you was to try out. I don’t really care why you did it. I care that you’re about to ruin our team.”

“That doesn’t explain why she’s here, then, Jeremy,” the blonde guy on his left said. “I mean, come on, if she only did this because of some crush on a guy, then she

wouldn’t be good. And if she wasn’t good, she wouldn’t be here.”

Jeremy shrugged again, but this time in defeat, though he was unwilling to admit it.

“You’re way out of line, Jeremy. I wouldn’t have asked Whitney to come here if I didn’t believe she would be an asset not only to the football team, but the school

as well,” Coach Alvarez said.

Jeremy rolled his eyes and slumped back in his chair as the coach turned to the blackboard to begin the morning’s lesson in significant figures, and I sighed.

Yeah.

I was already off to a fantastic start.

Maybe Clinton Central wasn’t the perfect dream I’d imagined it to be.

I dreaded lunch on Monday. My introduction hadn’t gone over nearly as well as I’d hoped and now I was stuck. I didn’t want to sit by myself (how would that

look?) and I was seriously considering taking my tray to a secluded spot outside when, in the middle of the cafeteria, I spotted Trenton Lane with a couple of other guys

dressed in Panthers football T-shirts and a few blonde girls.

I didn’t know if sitting with Trenton was appropriate or welcome, but he was the only person I’d ever met at this school who didn’t seem to want me gone. He had

to accept me for just one lunch period.

He wouldn’t say no. Would he?

This was just something I’d have to take my chances with. I made my way over towards his table, pleased to see an empty chair.

He happened to look up as I willed him to make eye contact with me so I didn’t have to startle him. His face broke out into a grin of recognition and I almost

collapsed with relief.

“Hey! Whitney! Great to see you back! Sit with us,” he called out, gesturing towards the lone empty seat.

“Thanks.” I glanced around the table and gave a small smile. “Um, hi. I’m Whitney.”

“We know who you are,” one of the guys said with a smile. “How’s it going? Sweet to see you here!”

“I don’t know who she is,” one of the girls said. “Wait a minute. Craig, how do you know her?”

Craig didn’t falter for a second. “Whitney’s on the team. I met her at practice Sunday. We all did.”

“What do you mean, she’s on the team? What team?”

“She’s our new quarterback,” Trenton said happily, reaching into his bag for some potato chips. “You all know Trent’s just terrible. Coach thinks Whit will fix

the problem.”

I tried not to laugh at this girl’s horrified expression.

“Well, I think it sounds stupid. I mean, get real, she’s a girl. How could she possibly do anything to help? Craig, you should just take over as quarterback and

Whitney can go back to wherever it is she came from. We don’t need her here.”

“You know, you could at least pretend you see her sitting right here,” Craig replied. “Why do you have to be so rude about things you don’t even understand?

You have no idea if she’s good or not. You don’t get the first thing about football.”

“That’s for sure,” the other girl said with a snort. “Come on, Ella, you’re so clueless, you cheered when Stepholm scored the winning touchdown.”

Ella just rolled her blue eyes. “Please. I have better things to do than worry about the ins and outs of football. So, then. Whitney.” She shifted her gaze to me

and I immediately disliked being under her critical stare. “If you’re so good, why are you playing here and not at your own school?”

I sighed. “It just didn’t work out.”

“Because you’re not good? Got it,” Ella said. “We don’t need you here. I’m leaving.” She pushed her chair back from the table and walked off without looking

back.

“About time,” I heard Trenton mutter under his breath.

Once Ella was gone, Craig let out a huge breath.

“Sometimes, I can’t figure out why you stay with her, man,” Trenton remarked.

“Yeah, me neither,” he replied with a shake of his head.

“Whitney, I know you haven’t met Josh or Amanda yet.”

I smiled, but Amanda scowled at me, not looking any friendlier than Ella.

“I agree with Ella,” she declared coldly. “You should go back to Ash Valley. Clinton Central won’t welcome you. I’ll make sure of it.” With that, she hurried

from the table.

“Uh. Sorry about that,” Trenton offered, looking slightly sheepish.

“It’s okay,” I said. “But I should probably go. I need to find my next class before the bell.”

“See you on the field later,” Trenton said. “And, hey, if you run into Ella or Amanda or any of their friends, don’t worry about it. That’s just how they are.”

“Um, well, okay,” I replied, nerves creeping into my stomach.

I had hoped that my lovely little encounter with Ella and Amanda was just an isolated incident, but from the way Trenton was talking, it sounded like they--and

others--already had it out for me.

Great.

Weren’t first days of school always fun?

By the time three o’clock finally rolled around, I’d met several girls who thought the same things about me that Ella and Amanda did. And I’d had the

unfortunate luck of running into Trent Cunningham’s girlfriend before sixth period, and, well, let’s just say that I’ve never met anyone quite so loyal to her boyfriend

before.

I’d been looking forward to practice since Jeremy Norway’s rant in Chemistry class. The guys on the team were the only ones who hadn’t given me a problem.

I was pretty sure they were the only ones who were happy I was even there to begin with.

I groaned when I walked into the locker room. Ella, Amanda, and a few other girls I recognized were changing into their shorts and sneakers for tennis practice.

I’d hated it when Elisabeth Turner had ridiculed me, but that seemed like nothing compared to what I knew was waiting for me now.

“Oh, look. Our new quarterback is finally here. How was your first day, Whitney?”

I eyed Ella. I couldn’t hear any malice in her voice, but I knew it was there.

“It was fine.”

“Why even ask, Ella?” Amanda spoke up from the corner. She was already changed and stood there, glaring at me, arms folded across her chest. “It’s obvious that

Whitney’s time here won’t last. The quarterback has got to be popular, and that’s nothing something we’re going to let her have.”

“Funny, I thought the quarterback just had to be good,” I shot back. “You know, someone who can win?”

“You’re not good. You’ll destroy the team.”

“You know, that isn’t what I hear from Craig,” a brunette near the door spoke up. “He said Whitney’s really chill. All the guys on the team think so. In fact, I’m

willing to bet that most of them would rather hang out with her than either of you.”

Ella narrowed her eyes. “The guys on the team think what we tell them to. If I happen to let it slip to Craig that Whitney was talking trash about them, well, you’re a

smart girl. What do you think will happen?”

The girl shook her head. “I can’t believe you guys would do something like that just because you’re so insecure. But, hey, you’re probably right. Your boyfriends

probably would rather date Whitney. She’s cute and she loves football. And she’s probably really nice. That alone is more than you have to offer.”

“You think I’m insecure?” Ella scoffed. “You think I’m worried that I’m going to lose Craig to her? Craig doesn’t like Whitney. I told him not to talk to her anymore.

He’ll listen to me. He always does.”

The girl opened her mouth to reply, but I cut in, unable to stand it anymore.

“You know that I’m standing right here, don’t you, Ella? And let me tell you all something. I love football. I always have and I always will. My dad introduced me to

the game and he died on the field. I didn’t come here to steal your boyfriends. I came here because this is the only place that will let me do what I want to do. I need to

play. You can say that I’m after your guys or that I have no talent and will run this team into the ground, but you’d only be kidding yourselves.”

I shook my head, proud that I’d finally stood up for myself, and walked out of the locker room dressed in an old, mustard yellow Ron Allitz Football Clinic T-shirt.

“People don’t like me, Dirk,” I complained on the phone later that night. “They really, really don’t want me there.”

“I find that hard to believe. Has anyone even seen you play yet?”

“No. But in one of my classes, this guy started yelling in front of everyone about how I was just this chick with a crush on some Ash Valley player and that was the

only reason I was doing this.”

Dirk laughed. “Yeah, you’ll get people like that. Just ignore him. Come on, Whitney, you know why you’re doing this and everyone who means anything to you

knows why you’re doing this. Isn’t that enough?”

“Dirk.”

“That’s what they always say in the movies,” he offered sheepishly. “But, really. Just go out and kick some butt in your game. It’ll all be fine.”

“I’ll try, but I’m not ready.”

“Yeah, you practiced with the team once. I’m sure people will understand if you have a less than stellar game.”

I shook my head vigorously even though he couldn’t see me. “This is the most important game I’ll ever play in. This game will determine whether or not people will

stand behind me as their quarterback. Don’t you get that?”

“No. I don’t know anything about sports. Look, I’ll talk to Sophie and I’m sure we’ll be there.”

“Thanks,” I said, biting my lip. “I just hope it goes okay.”

“It will,” he said. “Trust me. It happens in all the movies.”

“The movies aren’t real life, Dirk.”

“Take a lesson from the big screen. It’ll work out in the end, okay? I promise. It always does. I don’t know what’s going to happen and it might not be what you

expect, but everything will be okay.”

“I hope so.”

“Just go out there tomorrow and play like you already have everyone’s support. If you do, you’ll get it. That’s all I can tell you.”

I nodded, slowly starting to believe him. “Thanks. Okay, I think I’m going to get some sleep. Night, Dirk.”

“Don’t sweat it! ‘Bye!” He disconnected before I could.

Tossing my phone aside, I sighed. If only I could convince myself that maybe Dirk was right.

VIII.

Day Two at Clinton Central didn’t start off much better than my first. I’d spent a good part of the night unable to sleep, worrying about Jeremy Norway, Ella,

Amanda, and Jason Victorino.

Jason.

I couldn’t believe I was still thinking about him and what had happened at the end of last Friday’s practice. It felt so long ago, but was really just a few days. I didn’t

want to admit that what he’d done to me, making me believe, even just for a few seconds, that he liked me, was one of the cruelest things he could have done.

For reasons I couldn’t begin to describe, I just wanted things to be right between Jason and I. Now that I had football back, I wanted the other pieces of my life’s

old puzzle to fall back into place. I could never have my dad again, but Jason was still there, still a missing piece, a void that I had never quite managed to fill, a hole that

I didn’t think anybody but him could ever patch.

But it was game day and I couldn’t think about Jason right now.

I stood alone in the locker room before my first real game. Ella, Amanda, and their friends were nowhere to be found and I was relieved even though I’d promised

myself I wouldn’t let them bother me, not now, not before this game. I wouldn’t let them get what they wanted.

I pulled my long, wavy brown hair into a ponytail that would fit comfortably underneath my helmet and examined my uniformed reflection in the full-length mirror. I

smiled and sat on the end of a bench, praying the tears I could feel welling up wouldn’t spill over. I wished more than anything else that my father could be here to see

me in uniform for the first time.

It was my first game and he wouldn’t be here. But I knew how proud of me he would be--how proud he was, and, for the first time, that finally felt like it would be

enough for me.

I thought back to what Dirk had said before I finally tried out for Ash Valley. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for your dad. I smiled and knew exactly who I

had put myself through all of this for.

“You’re a football player if I’ve ever seen one,” I murmured to my reflection before grabbing my gym bag and heading out onto the field.

Plenty of students had come back to campus to sit through the night game. They wandered the halls of the athletic building until the 6 p.m. kickoff, but none of them

acknowledged me as I made my way out to the field. I shook it off, knowing that respect had to be earned. After today’s game, I hoped I would be swimming in it.

“Okay, team,” Coach Alvarez said as we huddled up around him. “Sutter should be here in five. Give me ten laps and begin your stretches.”

As I took off running, Craig and Trenton fell into step beside me.

“Nervous?” Craig asked.

I shrugged. “Yeah. But I’m not going to let that get in the way of playing well.”

“We know you’re good,” Trenton said. “And no one can take your talent away from you, you know. You just have to show everyone else what we already know.”

“But, hey, even if you do have an off game, we’ll still love you,” Craig added. “I mean, you’ve practiced with us once. Can’t expect perfection after that.”

“I don’t want to be perfect,” I replied. “I just want to win.”

“Don’t we all,” Trenton replied with a smile, slowing his run down to a walk. “There they are.”

I stopped running and glanced up to see my first opponents walking towards the field. I sucked in my breath and tried to calm the raging butterflies in my stomach.

Now this felt real.

Quickly, I turned my attention away from the arriving team and to the stands, scanning the bleachers for the familiar faces of Sophie and Dirk. I didn’t see them, but I

caught sight of Matt Victorino sitting next to my mom and...Scott Marino?

I did a double take, sure that I was just seeing things, but it was him. I swallowed hard. Matt caught me staring and he waved. Scott looked straight at me with such

an intense stare that I was surprised he didn’t burn a hole right through me. I didn’t wave back.

“Craig,” I said, coming back to the task at hand. “Do those guys know I’m a girl? I mean, did Coach have to tell them that before the game or something?”

He shrugged. “You know, I have no idea. Playing with a girl is kind of a first for me. You should ask Coach. But I know I’d tell them. They’ll be nervous to hit you

really hard and they’ll probably just think you can’t make the throws. I don’t see how it can hurt.”

Funny, I remembered Scott saying something like that as we’d waited for the list to go up on Coach Harrington’s bulletin board last week.

“Enough chatter! This is a football game, not a pep rally!” Coach Alvarez barked out and I flinched. I wasn’t used to hearing the normally calm coach speak so

harshly. “It’s game time. I want to see you over here, Berringer.”

Berringer? Since when did he call me that?

“What’s up, Coach?” I tried to keep my tone light and airy.

“I need to be sure that you want to play in this game. Because if you’re not ready, I’ll start Trent Cunningham.”

“No,” I replied firmly, surprising myself. “Don’t start him unless that’s what you really want to do.”

He snorted. “The day I’d want to start Cunningham...anyway. You feel prepared?”

“As prepared as I can be,” I said. “I need to do this. Have a little faith.”

“Five minutes until kickoff now. Let’s put this one away early, okay?”

I nodded. “I’m on it, Coach.”

“Go get pumped up with the rest of your teammates.” He nodded towards the team that was now gathered together in a messy, disproportionate circle. I grinned.

How long had I waited to join one of these huddles, be part of a real football team?”

“Whitney! Come on!” Craig grabbed my arm and pulled me into the group. “Let’s do this thing!”

I smiled and my heart started pounding. I’d never been a part of anything like this before. I’d never played on a team before. Heck, I’d never really even played. It

was beyond incredible to part of this and I wished the moment would last forever.

On the sideline, the cheerleaders were yelling loudly along with us. I started shouting with everyone else.

This, I realized, this sense of team and unity and pride, was what it was all about.

The referee’s whistle blew and two CCHS captains gathered at the 50-yard line with the three captains from Sutter. I couldn’t help but notice how cute one of the

opponents was, and, as I stood on the sideline, helmet tucked comfortably under my left arm, I noticed him glancing at me from his position at midfield.

I grinned. I hadn’t realized the added benefit of being the only girl in a sport completely dominated by men. Maybe I’d even get a date or two out of it, a date where

the guy actually liked me for a change.

But...no. That wouldn’t make what Jeremy Norway said about me in Chem class true, would it? No, definitely not. I hadn’t even thought about this side of playing

until now. No, Jeremy definitely wasn’t right. My intentions had been good from the start.

I simply couldn’t help it if I happened to be attracted to my opponents.

I suddenly hoped that CCHS would lose the coin toss and Sutter would elect to receive the ball first. I wanted to watch their offense in action before I had to take

the field myself. I held my breath, but luck wasn’t with me.

“Clinton Central has chosen to receive!” the announcer called out over the loudspeaker.

I kicked at the ground with the toe of my cleat. This was it.

This was everything.

“Whitney!” Craig grabbed my shoulders from behind and jumped up and down. “I’m more nervous now than I was when my grandmother told me she’d gotten me

an audition with an ice dancing team!”

I paused, turned around to look at him, and raised an eyebrow.

“What?” he said, catching sight of my expression. “I’ll have you know I was quite a champion skater back in the day.”

I shook my head and laughed, thankful that Craig hadn’t listened to Ella’s demands that he stopped talking to me. He already knew exactly how to make me feel

better.

“Whit! Good luck!” Trenton ran over. “Special teams is going on now to return the kick. Hopefully they’ll get you some great field position to start.”

“Yeah, how about in Sutter’s end zone,” I muttered under my breath. I hadn’t meant for them to hear me, but both Trenton and Craig looked at me now, eyes full of

questions and concern.

“Whitney,” Craig said. “Are you okay?”

“Suddenly you don’t look so good.”

“I don’t know if I can do this.” Doubt had been creeping up on me all day, slowly worming its way into my thoughts, and now it spilled over, overwhelming me,

washing over me in waves. I fought the urge to sit on the ground, collapsing to my knees. “I don’t feel ready. I just...I don’t think...I can’t. I need to talk to my dad.”

I fought to keep back tears. This wasn’t the time or place to get emotional. I knew better than this.

“I’ll get my phone and you can call him after the opening possession. Coach’ll understand.”

I felt the tears burning closer to the corner of my eyes, threatening to spill over, slowly losing the battle to keep them at bay.

“Are you...crying?” gasped Trenton. He exchanged a look with Craig as a whistle blew on the field.

“No! No, I’m not crying. I’m fine. Thanks, but I can’t call my dad. He died three years ago. But thanks for the offer.”

“Berringer! Let’s go!” Coach Alvarez called out from a little way down the sideline.

I glanced at Trenton and Craig; both looked stricken and their skin tones had paled a couple of shades.

Without another word, I hurried onto the field to join the offensive huddle waiting for me. My huddle.

In the stands, I could hear faint cheers and claps and I was more thankful than ever for Matt and...dare I say it...Scott there to support me.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I called the first play that came into my head.

“Um, Whitney?” the center--I couldn’t remember his name--spoke up. “Do you think that’s a good play to run right now? I mean, it’s pretty standard, they’d

probably be expecting it. Why don’t we try something different, like surprising Sutter with the...oh, I don’t know...606?”

“The 606?” My confidence wavered. I sighed. “Okay. The 606. Let’s go.”

What was the 606 again? Was that when I threw a screen pass to the running back or maybe handed the ball off to him? Or maybe it was a slant route to the tight

end?

Who was I kidding?

On the way to the line of scrimmage, I tapped one of our wide receivers on the shoulder.

He turned and grinned at me. “Better learn your plays, Whit. The 606 involves you faking the hand-off and throwing to me wide left around the 40-yard line.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

I took a deep breath. This play--this game--meant everything and now it was here. Real. It would be okay if I messed something up a little bit later in the game, but

the first play, my introduction to Clinton Central’s fans, had to go off without a hitch. Sam had to catch this ball. I had to show the Panthers that I wasn’t a mistake.

And before I really knew what was happening, the ball was snapped into my waiting hands. I stood here, heart pounding, looking down at it for just a split second

before I reacted. Head up, I scanned the field for Sam, the wide receiver.

I spotted him, wide open around Clinton Central’s own 38-yard line. Quickly, I pulled back my arm and released the ball without thinking about it.

I grimaced as soon as the ball left my hands. It was a bit of an errant throw, kind of wobbly, but maybe...with a tiny stretch...yes, he’d pulled it in.

My first pass as a Panther--as a player--was complete.

Almost instantly, I felt myself settle down, felt the crowd relax, felt a twinge of support; whether it was real or not didn’t matter. The offense looked at me and

shrugged, like they weren’t surprised by what they’d just seen. Sutter’s defense looked at me, completely baffled, wondering how I’d managed to complete a pass

against them.

All right. All right. I could do this.

“Nice pass, Berringer!” Coach Alvarez called out from the sideline, clapping the palm of his hand against his clipboard.

The next few plays ran like clockwork as I managed to lead the team down to Sutter’s 15-yard line before Trenton failed to convert on a third-and-two.

Yeah. I’d coming out firing, playing like I always knew that I could. As I retreated to the sideline so the field goal unit could hopefully put the first points of the game

on the board, I couldn’t help but break into a huge smile. My nerves evaporated and I couldn’t wait to see my coach.

The fans seemed to have realized that maybe I wasn’t the worst thing to happen to their beloved football program. I’d even caught sight of Jeremy Norway in the

stands after I tossed a particularly impressive 22-yard completion. His jaw dropped in surprise and he stared at the field with wonder in his eyes.

“Berringer! I knew I’d be glad I put you in uniform!”

Trenton and Craig practically jumped on me before I’d even had a chance to take off my helmet.

“Omigod! Omigod!” Craig squealed. “WhitWhitWhit! My girl! That was so incredible. Omigod! I was so nervous for you!”

Before Craig could say anything else or I could reply, more of the offensive players came up to me and patted me on the head as I was flooded with a series of ‘nice

jobs’ and ‘keep it ups.’

Needless to say, I felt pretty amazing about what had just happened. I glanced over at Sutter’s sideline and saw that every last guy, including the entire coaching staff,

looked at me with complete and utter awe written on their faces.

Yep.

My first game was going to be a success.

By halftime, my bright outlook on the game wasn’t nearly so sunny. I’d managed to fumble the ball and throw an easily avoidable interception. Sutter had scored two

touchdowns off of my mistakes alone.

Clinton Central now trailed, 17-6, and it was nobody’s fault but my own. The Sutter bench didn’t stare at me with too much shock and appreciation anymore. While

Craig and Trenton still talked to me, most of the team had nothing to say and not even Coach Alvarez had offered me any more words of praise or even

encouragement.

As for winning over the fans? Forget it. I’d blown that opportunity the second my pass intended for Sam ended up in the hands of a guy wearing a Sutter uniform.

I dreaded going into the locker room at halftime. I would doubtlessly be singled out as the one player who deserved all the blame. And the worst part was that I

knew Coach would be right.

Keeping my eyes trained on the dirty, muddied floor, I sat on a bench in the locker room by myself. The room remained silent as my disgusted teammates filtered in

around me.

Moments later, a seething Coach Alvarez stormed in and chucked his clipboard at a locker.

“I know you’re all expecting me to pin this horrendous, embarrassing display of how not to play football on Berringer,” he began, not wasting words or time. I

flinched though I’d promised myself I would accept whatever blame he threw at me. “But I’m not going to do that. Not this time. And you know why? Because I don’t

think this is entirely her fault.”

I looked up, startled. Of course it was my fault. Even I was more than willing to admit that.

“If she had some help from anyone on offense, maybe if our running game wasn’t non-existent, then we would be winning right now. A quarterback’s performance is

surely not the only factor influencing the success of our running game.”

George Simmons snorted and look at Coach Alvarez with daggers in his eyes.

“Don’t you dare give me that look, Simmons, I know we’ve called runs and handed the ball off. The running backs aren’t gaining the yards they should be. And, yes,

she’s had a few turnovers, but are you really that surprised? I know I’m not. She’s a rookie, in her first game, after one day of practice. She’ll learn. You all are at least

one-year veterans of the sport. You have experience and you should not be playing at the level that you are. What did you have to say, Simmons?”

George looked at Coach Alvarez as though he was determined to make up for the small chewing out he’d just gotten. “I just think that if we utilized our passing game

in a different way that we’d be able to put--”

“You want to play the pass?” Coach Alvarez barked. “Are you telling me you don’t want the ball, Simmons? You’re a full back, not a receiver. For the rest of this

game, consider yourself benched.”

George sank back down on the seat, stunned and defeated.

“Defense, listen up. You need to step up and make that big play. Right now, Sutter’s quarterback has all the time he wants in the pocket. But he hardly needs any

time because his receivers are always open. You boys are making me ashamed to call myself your coach. Step up or get out. You saw that happened to Simmons. It

can--and it will--happen to you. Get it together.”

A few of the guys shot nasty glared in my direction, obviously not all that pleased that I’d been let off the hook and they were taking the rap for my mistakes.

I wasn’t happy about it, either. While not getting chewed out by Coach Alvarez in front of everyone had been a nice surprise, I’d always been taught to accept what I

deserved, and right now, I deserved more of the blame than I was getting.

“We have thirty minutes--that is one half of an hour--to turn this game around. We’re in an eleven-point hole, but we can climb out of it with just two touchdowns.

The offensive line must give Berringer some time in the pocket and the defense must apply some pressure to Sutter’s quarterback. If we can do that, well, I think we can

win this game.”

With a few more inspirational but harsh words, Coach Alvarez called the team together for a huddle. This time, no one made sure I was involved, not even Craig or

Trenton. I hadn’t seen either of them since midway through the second quarter.

The team made its way back onto the field, but the enthusiasm from the start of the game had long since disappeared.

Before the game started, I’d been hoping to receive a warm reception from the fans after halftime, but I’d known that opportunity had sailed out the window. I’d

have to throw at least five touchdown passes and probably morph into Tom Brady before their eyes to earn any kind of respect now.

“At least Sutter gets the ball first,” I muttered under my breath.

I wasn’t ready to go back onto the field after my last few outings had ended so terribly. I sighed, feeling lonely for the first time since I’d decided to go back to

football.

“Excuse me?” a tentative voice asked from behind me.

I turned around, ready to hug whoever it was that had bothered to talk to me as I stood alone on the sideline for much of the third quarter. No one had even looked

my way once.

“Oh! Hi,” I said breathlessly, grateful that someone—anyone—was there. Then I frowned. A really, really cute player from Sutter stood in front of me. Then I

realized it was one of the captains, the one who’d been looking at me during the opening coin toss. I smiled, but looked around nervously. “Um, I don’t think you should

be here.”

He smiled. “Believe me, nobody will notice.”

“Oh, so you’ve done this before,” I teased. “Gone over to talk to the other team’s quarterback on his sideline?”

“Nah, can’t say that I have. None of the other quarterbacks have ever been so pretty.”

My breath caught in my throat and I swallowed hard. “Oh,” I managed to say, taking in everything from his mop of curly black hair to his shining brown eyes to his

tan, muscular arms. Even with sweaty hair and smudged charcoal under his eyes, he was gorgeous, and you’d have to be a fool not to realize it. “I see.”

“So, listen, I’ve obviously never done something like this before and it’s probably frowned upon, but I kind of can’t help myself. Do you want to grab something to

eat after the game? I know I’m always starving after I play.”

He was almost whispering, as though he was afraid someone would overhear and blow the whistle on him.

I smiled, eyes widening. “How could I say no to that?” I asked, finally finding my voice. “Except I don’t really think after the game is such a good idea. I’m probably

not going to be in a great mood.”

He nodded and glanced up at the field. “Come on, Pete, get the first down,” he muttered. “I don’t want to have to go back on defense yet. But, yeah, that’s cool with

me. Are you up for going out sometime at least?”

He looked so adorable, so hopeful, just standing there, gnawing away on his bottom lip.

“I think that’d be okay.”

He sighed, relief flooding into his eyes. “Great. Uh, do you have a pen?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I keep a spare in my shoulder pads for emergencies.”

He grinned and bent down to pick up a stray tube of eye charcoal tossed underneath the bench next to a bunch of identical black gym bags and football equipment.

“You know, you should really get back to your sideline. Someone in the stands might see you.”

“Relax. Give me your hand.” He uncapped the tube and used it to scribble on my palm. “What’s your name?”

“Whitney.”

Before I could ask him his, he was gone. Glancing down at my hand, I saw he’d written his number and underneath it was the word ‘Colt.’

A name to go with a face. A gorgeous face.

I turned back to the field and smiled. I hated to admit it; it made me feel like I was a fraud, like I wasn’t doing this because I loved football. But after this, I knew that

no matter how badly we lost the game, meeting Colt more than made up for it.

As it turned out, we didn’t just lose. We got annihilated. Somehow, I managed to turn in an even worse second-half performance than my second quarter, something

I hadn’t even thought possible. A total of three interceptions and two lost fumbles were charged to my name. The offense didn’t score once, but at least the defense

managed a touchdown off of a Sutter turnover.

But I didn’t care. I had officially checked into a room on cloud nine for the rest of the night.

“I have to ask, Whitney,” my mom finally said as we sat down to a late dinner after the game. “Are you even upset that you lost?”

I looked up at my mother, perfecting my look of shock and innocence. “Mom! How could you even say that? Of course I’m beyond upset about it. I feel like I let the

whole school down. And Matt and Dirk and Sophie and you! All of you guys made a point to come see me and I was terrible. And what am I going to tell Greg when

he calls? I just wish I could re-do the whole game.”

You bet I do. Then I could have made sure to apply some lip gloss and fix my ponytail before the second half. Oh, and maybe taking back some of my interceptions

and actually winning wouldn’t be so bad, either.

“It’s just that I thought you would be more upset than you seem to be now, that’s all.”

A horrible, devastating thought crossed my mind. My mom hadn’t seen me with Colt, had she? That would ruin any chance I had with him. Mom was on board with

the football thing now; she wouldn’t let me date anyone who risked putting my career in jeopardy.

“I’m trying not to think about it, you know, like I tried not to think about getting cut from Ash Valley,” I replied. “It’s easier for me.”

My mom eyed me critically, but gave in. “Well, I’m glad you aren’t dwelling on it. And, Whitney, you weren’t terrible. It was your first game.”

“I guess you’re right.”

I had already checked out of the conversation as a sudden wave of disgust washed over me for the first time since the game ended. Why was this not bothering me

more? I knew I should be crying, wracking my brain to figure out how to get better, pouring over every word, diagram, X and O of Coach’s playbook. I should be

devastated.

And I knew that I would have been...if I hadn’t met Colt.

I just couldn’t bring myself to care.

It was seriously amazing what a ridiculously gorgeous guy and his phone number could do for a girl. And the fact that he’d actually come to my sideline instead of finding

me on the field after the game was almost too much to handle. The only thing I wanted to do now was go upstairs and think about him, think about the exact

conversation we had, and then think about him some more.

I knew I’d definitely be making a phone call tonight, but it would be to Sophie, not Colt. I knew I couldn’t tell anybody else what had happened on the sideline.

Craig and Trenton--if they ever bothered talking to me again--would probably freak out about the unsportsmanlike nature of what he did. Scott Marino--well, I didn’t

know how Scott would react, but I didn’t plan on finding out. I wasn’t sure where I stood with him, but right then, that seemed like the least important detail in my life.

Scott was meaningless to me now. He could stay with his girlfriend forever as far as I was concerned.

“Mom? I think I’m going to go upstairs and just...think about things for awhile,” I said, after finishing my baked potato and green beans. I picked up my plate and

pushed back from the table.

My mother nodded. “Alright. And, honey, please don’t get yourself too worked up. You did your best and I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

I grimaced, not wanting to hear this right now, but I tried to smile reassuringly. I hadn’t done my best. Far from it. I’d let Colt get in the way of my best. And still I

didn’t care.

Maybe Scott had been right after all. Maybe I did have a future in acting.

After all, I thought my performance tonight was definitely worthy of an Academy Award.

XIV.

As soon as I got up to my room, I grabbed my cell phone and called Sophie. I needed to tell someone about Colt and I needed to do it fast. She was the only person

I could talk to.

“Whitney Leanne Berringer!” Sophie almost deafened my right ear with her screech. “I am so glad you called! I was just going to call you! I have the biggest news

ever. You still have that crush on Scott Marino, right?”

I hesitated, blindsided by Sophie’s enthusiasm. I didn’t really feel much of anything towards Scott right now and he wasn’t what I wanted to talk about.

“I, uh, I don’t know. And could you stop shrieking, please?”

“Sorry. I’m just so excited for you. But what do you mean, you don’t know? You were all upset when you found out he was dating somebody else. You have to like

him.” She paused, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “It’s not like it’s that difficult to fall for Scott.”

“I...was,” I said, still caught off guard by the conversation. “But that was a couple of days ago. Things, uh...sometimes things change.”

“But he broke up with his girlfriend last night. He told Dirk today.”

Scott had ended his relationship? This was news to me. But...why? I thought he didn’t want anything to ruin his relationship with this girl, let alone me. At least, that

was the impression Brenden had given me.

“Dirk was all, like, oh, wow, I thought you really loved this girl, I thought you didn’t want to let anything come between you guys, but Scott said something already

had. So, thank gosh, Dirk asked him what it was. I guess he was hesitant to say it at first, but Dirk dragged it out of him. It’s you, Whit. Scott likes you too much to stay

with his girlfriend.”

I froze for a split second, my mind darting back to the amazing week I’d spent with him in practice and how much I thought I liked him. I’d been expecting Sophie to

say that, but it was still surprising to hear out loud. I’d hoped this would happen, but it was Jason Victorino all over again. My dream of being with him had changed;

there was somebody else in the picture, somebody I couldn’t wait to get to know better.

When Jason had supposedly realized he liked me, I was falling for Scott. And now that Scott wanted me, I was falling for Colt.

It was a vicious cycle and I wanted it to end here.

“Whit? Did you hear what I just said? Scott is single because of you.” Sophie sighed and her voice grew softer. “What I wouldn’t give to be you.”

“Sorry. Yeah. I heard you.”

“You don’t like him.”

I knew it wasn’t a question and I also knew I was skating on thin ice with Sophie and the subject of Scott Marino right now.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “There are...a lot of things I don’t know about right now.”

“Spill,” Sophie said immediately. “Oh, my God, wait. I know what this is about. This has to do with that guy who was talking to you during the game today. You

know, that guy wearing the Sutter uniform?”

I blushed fiercely, my cheeks burned, and my pulse quickened. “You saw that?” My stomach began to churn.

“Oh, honey, please. Who didn’t see that? It was kind of hard to miss. I meant to ask you about it, but then Dirk called about Scott. So you like this guy now, is that

it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know him.”

“Whit, come on. What happened? Dirk said you had the same look on your face when Scott came up to you in the athletic building last week. It was like you were

love struck or something.”

“Oh, great. Perfect. That’s just awesome,” I grumbled. “I looked love struck with the captain of the other team in a game that my head obviously wasn’t in.”

“Yeah, maybe that won’t go over so hot,” Sophie remarked. “But, whatever, people talk and then they forget. What did he say? Who is he? Tell me everything.”

“Okay, well, in the locker room, it was really weird because--”

“Oh, my God! He came into your locker room, too?”

“No! Don’t interrupt. In the locker room, Coach Alvarez didn’t blame me for the bad game and no one really liked that. So on the field, I was just standing around

by myself and it was awful and someone said hi so I turned around and I swear to you, Soph, I thought my heart was going to beat right out of my chest. He’s that cute.

I told him he should leave, but he wouldn’t listen, and he asked me to get something to eat after the game, but I said, no, that probably wasn’t a good idea,” I rambled.

“Oh, what, and standing around talking to him on your own sideline during the middle of a game was?”

“Sophie.”

“Sorry. Go on.”

“Anyway, he seemed kind of bummed, so I told him he we could do it another night when I wasn’t having such a bad game. And he found this old stick of charcoal

and I got his number.”

“So adorable,” Sophie said with an overly dramatic sigh. “I wish something like that would happen to me one of these days. Seriously, Whitney, that’s like, right out

of a movie or something.”

“I know,” I replied, not able to control my smile. And then a horrible idea struck me. “Oh, God. Sophie. What if he was just doing that to me to...you know...take

me out of the game? Kind of like what I tried doing to Jason.”

“No,” Sophie replied with a surprising amount of conviction. “I don’t think so. You were already having a bad game. He didn’t need to take you out of it anymore

than you’d already taken yourself out.”

“Thanks, Soph. So should I call him tonight or what?”

“What? No, definitely not. You don’t want to make it seem like he’s your only option.” She paused. “And, actually, he isn’t. Anyway, I should go. English homework

and all that. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

I disconnected the call and sighed. The pit in my stomach had only grown larger after that conversation; it didn’t make me feel better to know that Sophie and the rest

of my Ash Valley friends had seen me talking to Colt. They couldn’t have been the only ones.

And as I sat there, thinking about this, I started to grow angry with him. What had he been thinking, coming up to me on my own sideline in the middle of a game?

Couldn’t he have waited? He easily could have destroyed my football career before it even started.

I knew I was going to hear about this tomorrow and I had a sinking feeling that people at Clinton Central weren’t going to be as excited for me as Sophie.

Walking into school Wednesday morning was nothing like I had been imagining for the past few days. Before yesterday’s debacle of a game, I pictured a warm

reception, hellos in the hall, and something resembling acceptance and respect from most of the students. I hadn’t expected to be treated like their football goddess--not

yet, anyway--but I’d hoped for something more than what I got.

Nobody looked at me, talked to me, or acknowledged me. It felt as if there was a universal agreement among the students to flat-out ignore me until I simply

disappeared. Thursday night’s game against McCobiak couldn’t come soon enough. I needed to redeem myself and I needed to do it fast.

“So, Whitney. Do you plan on ruining our entire football season by yourself? What did I tell you? You’re nothing special.”

Great. There was only person who’d bothered to talk to me that day and of course it was Ella. I’d been praying for a cheerleader-free morning, but Lady Luck

must’ve found her sense of humor and didn’t feel like cutting me a break. Was this my punishment for not caring about last night’s game?

“I had an off day,” I replied. “I only practiced with the team once before the game. They understand even if you don’t.”

Ella raised her eyebrows. “Oh, do they?” She smiled widely as if she was really going to enjoy telling me whatever it was she had to say next. “That’s not what I hear

from Craig. According to him, we’re oh-and-two and it’s all because of you.”

“Really.” I didn’t know whether to believe her or not, but I was inclined to go with not. On the other hand, I was sure that Ella had talked to her boyfriend after the

game and I hadn’t heard from a single person on the team.

“Oh, yeah. He was really upset last night, too. He says we’re off to our worst start in five years. Five years, Whitney. And it’s all your fault. So I think it’s pretty

obvious that nobody wants you around. We really don’t need you. Trent Cunningham can’t be any worse.”

“Okay, just wait a second here. It definitely isn’t my fault that we’re oh-and-two. I can only take responsibility for one of those losses and you know what? I take the

blame for it. But I was still at Ash Valley when the Panthers lost to Stepholm and your precious Trent couldn’t guide the team to a win. Nice try, though.”

I smiled, satisfied that I’d said my piece, and turned to leave. I was finished with Ella.

“Whitney.” I glanced back at her over my shoulder. “We would have been one-and-one if not for you. So there.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “That’s all you have to say?” I asked, shaking my head.

And this time, I walked away.

Although I didn’t exactly like where I was going. I had Chemistry class, class with Jeremy Norway, and I was sure that he was bursting at the seams, ready to rip me

to shreds in front of everyone.

Jeremy wasn’t in the classroom when I got there, so I hurried to my seat and didn’t look at anyone. I could feel their glares piercing through my skin and wondered if

Trent Cunningham had gotten the same kind of treatment when he’d put up a loss last week.

Jeremy dropped into the seat next to me then and I wished that Coach Alvarez hadn’t insisted on me sitting by him on the first day. I tried not to make eye contact

with him, but he let out a rude, grunting sound as he sat. The guy who had defended me earlier in the week only laughed now.

I sighed, mad at myself, disappointed in my performance for the first time. Today could have been so much different and I think that was what bothered me the most.

I could have been the center of attention, the person people wanted to talk to, everyone wanting to know where I’d learned to play football so well, why I’d chosen

Clinton Central and came to save their team.

And up until about seven minutes and fifteen seconds were left in the second quarter, that had seemed extremely realistic.

“All right.” Coach Alvarez walked briskly into the room just seconds after the first bell rang and set his briefcase flat on his desk. “I don’t want any talk about

yesterday’s game. This is the classroom, not the football field.” He stared straight at Jeremy.

“But, Mr. Alvarez, I have so much to say.”

“That’s why I looked at you.”

“Please. Just let me have five minutes. Five minutes to get my views out into the open! Or else I’ll take them to the school paper!”

“I’m shaking in my shoes.” Coach Alvarez rolled his eyes, glanced at me, then at the clock. “You have one minute and then we’ll move on from this nonsense.”

“How could you possibly have thought that Whitney would bring anything good to this school? I’m not the only person who thinks you were wrong to let her on the

team. She’s a mistake.”

“That’s uncalled for,” Coach Alvarez said, looking over at me. I felt my face pale as Jeremy referred to me as a mistake. “An apology is in order.”

“Not a chance,” Jeremy retorted. “I won’t apologize to the person who brought the Panthers to their worst start in five years.”

“You cannot blame a loss on one person. Football is a team sport, Jeremy, which is something that you would know if you were any good at it. I’m sure it’s no secret

that Jeremy was cut from tryouts just ten minutes into the afternoon when his facial jewelry became tangled in another player’s jersey. Of course, Jeremy would have

been promptly cut without this unfortunate mishap. He simply doesn’t have much talent. He’s not good.”

Jeremy’s eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open slightly. I caught sight of a faint pink creeping into his cheeks.

“You didn’t like that, Jeremy? Do you want me to continue? Do you like it when someone attacks your abilities?” Coach Alvarez smiled. “Judging by the color of

your face and the size of your eyes, I’m going to guess that you want me to stop. So, if we can move on to Chemistry now, I’ll have you take out your assignments from

last night, please.”

I smiled, sat back in my seat, and sent a silent thank-you to my coach. He’d saved that from getting as bad as it could have been. At least somebody still had my

back.

“Whitney? There you are! Finally.”

I looked up from gathering my books in my locker to see Trenton hurrying down the hall towards me. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hey. Going to lunch?”

“Yeah, in a minute.”

He nodded. “I’ll wait.” Trenton leaned up against the locker next to mine. “I was looking for you all morning. I tried to get your number last night, but I really only talk

to people from Clinton and McCobiak and nobody knew it. I thought you might think I was mad at you because of the game.”

“So you’re not?”

Trenton shook his head. “No. I told you before the game that I wouldn’t be. Neither is Craig or anybody else on the team. You didn’t even do that badly for your

first game ever. I mean, if that had been Ash Valley’s Jason Victorino playing like that, I would have laughed him out of the stadium. But, Whit, I get it. It’s okay.”

“Then where we were you?”

“Coach decided it was the running backs’ fault that were doing so badly, so we were just practicing footwork and cuts whenever the defense was on the field.”

I sighed, not sure I believed him, but liking that explanation better than any other alternative I could come up with. “Well,” I said. “I was pretty terrible even for my

first game. I can’t wait for tomorrow.”

“I knew I liked you. Always thinking ahead and always about football. Could you be more perfect?” he joked. “So, think you’ll be ready for the next one?”

“I have to be,” I said. “I need to do some serious practicing this afternoon.”

“We only practice until six, no matter what,” he told me. “It’s this weird rule of Coach’s. But if you want, I’ll stay late and practice with you. Well, actually, we can’t

do that. They lock the stadium by six-fifteen. But we could go to your house or the park or something. Whatever.”

The park. A lump began to form in my throat and I was shocked to feel tears prickling at the corner of my eyes at the idea of playing football in the park with

someone who wasn’t Jason Victorino.

“If we’re going to do that, if I need to, I don’t want to go to the park,” I said, pushing back the tears and steadying myself. “I’m sure my mom wouldn’t mind.”

“Great.” He grinned. “C’mon, m’lady. Onward to the cafeteria!” He linked his arm through mine.

“As long as we don’t have to eat with Ella or Amanda.”

He raised his eyebrows and laughed. “No, I can’t stand them, either. They’re so rude. I overheard Ella tell Craig that he isn’t allowed to talk to you anymore. He

laughed in her face and walked away.”

“He did? I’m surprised she didn’t break up with him for that.” I couldn’t have hid my smile if I tried. I loved the fact that Craig stood up for me like that.

“It’d be high time for it if she did.”

“I don’t know what’s going on lately,” I wondered aloud. “I’m sure this is going to sound super snobby, but all of a sudden, there are guys quitting teams for me, guys

risking their spot on rival teams for me. And guys are breaking out with their girlfriends for me. This is just...weird.”

“It’s simple,” Trenton said. “You’re--what do you mean, guys are risking their spots on rival teams for you? You haven’t been on any other team but this one. How

could you have a rival?”

I proceeded to tell him about Colt even though I had decided not to. I knew he’d probably hear about it one way or another, and I figured it should come from me.

Plus, I just really wanted to talk about Colt.

“Romantic,” he remarked when I finished.

“Yeah, it was interesting,” I admitted. “Oh, there’s Craig. And he isn’t with Ella. Whadda ya say?”

“I say let’s eat.”

“Oh, good,” Craig said as we slid into two empty seats at his table. “Whit, I just want to tell you that I’m--”

“Save your breath,” Trenton interjected. “Your story is the same as mine. Where’s your witch?”

I tried not to laugh at Trenton’s accurate but blunt description. I didn’t want Craig to think I was rude and hated his girlfriend on top of being terrible at football.

But he only rolled his eyes and sighed. “Probably off somewhere with Amanda, thinking up some new way to torment Whitney. I’m really sorry.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault.”

“But I’m her boyfriend and you’re my friend and I don’t want my girlfriend going around saying nasty things about any of my friends.” He let out another sigh. “I can’t

do this. I have to break up with her. I can’t be with someone like that.”

“Then why are you?”

Craig shrugged, expression growing serious. “I guess for the comfort of it all, you know? Ella and I have been together forever and I can’t imagine myself without her.

I still can’t picture it. But I know how she is and I know she can’t change that and I know I can’t be in this relationship anymore.”

“It’s been a long time coming, man,” Trenton said.

“Believe me, I know. Only sucks that now I’m out a girlfriend.”

It was Trenton’s turn to shrug and offer a sympathetic smile. “Look at me. I’ve been out of a girlfriend for, what, my whole life? I didn’t turn out so bad.”

I grinned. I never thought I’d find someone who reminded me so much of Dirk.

But more importantly, I finally felt like I belonged on this team. And that was all that mattered.

I took a deep breath and stared down at the piece of paper in my hand. I glanced at my right palm where the faded black marks of Colt’s number were still faintly

visible.

I didn’t know if it was too soon to call him, but I wanted to hear his voice, make sure that his words on Tuesday weren’t a fluke, and know that I wasn’t getting

excited over nothing.

I bit my lip; Sophie would tell me to wait to call for just one more day, but I was going crazy wondering if he’d forgotten about me, if he still wanted to get to know

me. Before I could hesitate anymore, I quickly punched in the numbers and pressed the green send button. There was no chickening out now.

“’Lo,” a muffled voice answered. I heard a lot of noise in the background and his voice was barely distinguishable among the volume. “Hello?”

I wrinkled my nose, realizing it was my turn to talk. “Um, hi. Yeah. Is this Colt?”

“Yeah. Hold up.” Within a minute, the noise level died down. “Sorry. I couldn’t hear myself think in there.”

“Oh, that’s okay.”

“So...who did you say this was again?”

This wasn’t going well. I’d somehow hoped that he would have just...known, even though that was ridiculous.

“It’s um, it’s Whitney. Whitney Berringer,” I stammered. “You know, from yesterday’s--”

He cut me off with a laugh. “You could’ve stopped at Whitney.”

“Oh. I, um, I wasn’t sure.”

Why couldn’t I stop this and shut up? I was making an idiot of myself. He would definitely have second thoughts about me now.

“I’m glad you called,” he said. “I didn’t think you would.”

I had no idea what to say to that; no idea what to say at all. He made me freeze up, forget my words, and second guess anything I thought of. Every possible

response that jumped into my head was lame, lame, lame.

“Well, uh,” he continued after a few seconds. “Did you want to, uh...do you want to do something sometime then? Um...with me?”

I smiled, feeling myself relax just the tiniest bit. “Sure. If you’re up for it.”

“Well, I asked, didn’t I?”

I cringed. “Yeah.”

“Then I’m up for it. Is there something you want to do?”

Of course there wasn’t. I hadn’t thought about anything beyond actually picking up the phone and calling him. What we would say or do had completely escaped me.

“Well...no,” I admitted.

He laughed again, a deep, rumbling sound, like he was genuinely amused and happy. I already loved it.

“Me, neither,” he said. “I just spent all my time hoping you’d actually call.”

“Me, too,” I replied happily, nerves gone. “Only, you know, I wasn’t hoping you’d call. I was just trying to convince myself you wanted me to.”

I took a deep breath, regretting the words the second they left my mouth. Could I have possibly sounded any less self-confident? This wasn’t going well.

“Of course I did,” he said. “I would have gotten your number, too, but Pete didn’t get the first down and I had to grab my helmet and get on the field. I wouldn’t

have gone through all of that if I didn’t want to talk to you more.”

I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me. “So, should we come up with a plan or something?”

Oh, my lord. Now I sounded like my mother. You dork. Dork, dork, dork. What could this gorgeous guy possibly see in me now?

“Sure,” he replied kindly and I immediately was afraid he was just humoring me now. “When works for you?”

I had hoped maybe he’d want to see me later tonight, but based on the sound of things when I’d first called, that wasn’t going to work for him.

“Well, we have a game tomorrow, and I’m not really holding my breath that it’s going to go well, so maybe Friday.”

“What? Come on, Whitney, you’re not that bad.”

“Not that bad? Were you at the same game as me yesterday? I don’t think I’ve ever seen one person responsible for so many turnovers. Today was awful.

Everybody hates me.”

“Stop, no they don’t. They just don’t know what you’re capable of. Don’t judge yourself on your first game.” He laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. It’s

just that I’m sure you’ve heard that from people all day. I wish I could be more original.”

“Yeah, you’re right. That’s what I heard...from those who bothered to talk to me at all.”

“Ah, relax, it’ll get better. So, hey, how does Friday night sound? You can’t have plans already. I really want to see you again.”

I smiled and leaned back against my headboard. “Friday’s good.”

“Great. Okay, so Clinton Township is about--”

“Actually, I live in Ash Valley.”

“I...I thought we played Clinton Central yesterday. Did Ash Valley get rid of Jason Victorino? I’m confused.”

“No.” I proceeded to explain the entire story of my week-long football career at two different high schools.

“Wow,” he said when I finished. “That’s amazing. I never thought I’d meet a girl who’d go through that much to play. I don’t think many guys I know would. That’s

really cool. But how did you even get interested in football?”

I sighed, but, for the first time, felt surprisingly comfortable talking about my dad and Jason Victorino.

Once I finished, I was met with complete silence on the other end. For a minute, I thought that my past with Jason Victorino had ruined everything that was seemingly

so perfect with Colt.

“Whoa.”

I didn’t say anything.

“I mean,” he went on. “Whoa. Whitney, that’s the...the craziest, saddest, coolest story I’ve ever heard.”

“Coolest.” I couldn’t keep the sting out of my voice.

“Well, I mean, the whole playing football part is cool. The rest just...sucks. I’m really sorry to hear that happened.”

“Don’t be,” I said. “I’m okay now.”

“Good. So, Friday night. How about, I don’t know...want to go down the shore or something?”

I bit my lip to keep from smiling too hard. “I think it’s perfect.”

“Good. How about I pick you up at eight?”

“Sounds great,” I replied, before giving him my address.

“I’ll call you before then,” he said. “Night, Whitney.”

I grinned as I set my cell phone down on the table next to my bed. There would be no misinterpretations this time. Colt definitely had more-than-friendly intentions

with me and I was glad.

It was about time I met my Prince Charming in cleats.

X.

“Okay, team.” Coach Alvarez addressed the football players in the locker room just minutes before the game was scheduled to start. “This is our third game. We

can’t have an oh-and-three start. So let’s not put one up. McCobiak is nothing special; they shouldn’t be able to beat us. But they’re supposed to be winless. It’s

expected from them. But us? We have a hole pull ourselves out of and it must begin with McCobiak. It must begin tonight. Are you ready?”

“We’re ready!” the team announced in unison before running out onto the field. The applause and cheering was thunderous, just as it had been before my first game

and I planned to keep it this way throughout the entire evening.

“Let’s do this, Whit. Oh-and-two, we can work with that,” Craig said. “I know you’ll be great.”

At halftime, I couldn’t stop smiling. I’d thrown three touchdown passes and my running backs had rushed for another two. Turnovers? Forget it. Clinton Central led

36-7, a score that was high for halftime even at a professional level.

“Whitney Berringer, you are amazing!” yelled Trenton, as we headed for the locker room. Almost all of the guys had come over to pat me on the helmet. “I can’t

believe how great you’re playing! Don’t stop!”

I grinned. “We won’t lose this game.”

I could hardly believe my luck. Or my talent. Or my fate. Or whatever it was that was allowing me to have such an amazing game.

And it definitely didn’t hurt that Scott Marino, Dirk, Sophie, and Matt Victorino were all there again. I knew Scott would tell Coach Harrington about the game.

Heck, he wouldn’t have to do that. The Ash Valley coach would no doubt read about it in the morning sports.

“Listen up now. This is more like it,” Coach Alvarez said to his team. “This is exactly what I knew you were capable of, but I believe there’s more to come from you.

It’s only the start of the second half. Not only do we have thirty minutes of football left today, but we have countless minutes remaining in this season. Offense is lighting

up the boards behind Berringer’s three touchdown passes. Great catch on that last one, McCoy. Defense, solid effort. And special teams, you’ve done your job. Let’s

get back out there now and finish them off.”

We jogged back onto the field, this time to enthusiastic cheers and claps from all of the Clinton Central faithful. I knew that Jeremy Norway sat up there, watching

me, and even he would have a hard time denying that I played an absolutely dynamite first half. The only thing that could make this day more perfect than it already was

would be if Colt showed up.

But I also knew I couldn’t allow myself to fall into the trap of distraction again.

“Whit-ney! Whit-ney! Whit-ney!”

I stopped running, unsure if I had heard correctly. Were people in the stands really cheering my name?

Trenton stopped running, too, and looked around the stadium. “Holy cow, kid,” he said. “They love you tonight.” He squinted at something past me in the stands. “If

my eyes are correct, and they are because I have impeccable vision, Jeremy Norway is up there yelling your name just as loudly as everyone else.”

I grinned and glanced up to where I knew my Ash Valley friends had found seats. They were, naturally, screaming wildly. Even Scott was yelling for me. Then again,

maybe that shouldn’t have been such a surprise, given what Sophie had told me about him and his now ex-girlfriend. As I watched them, Sophie leaned in close to Scott

and whispered something in his ear. I frowned, but I didn’t have time to think about that now. I’d asked her about it later.

“Defense is up first,” Coach Alvarez was saying on the sideline. “Berringer, I knew you’d make me proud to add you to my roster. Great job so far. Really, truly

spectacular.”

And that was all the praise I needed to sail through the rest of the game, connecting with Mark McCoy for two more touchdowns and Trenton for another.

Final score?

Clinton Central, 62.

McCobiak, 17.

Later that night, I sat upstairs in my bedroom finishing my chemistry homework for Coach Alvarez. I knew he’d probably be fine with it if I asked to hand in the

assignment a day late so I could celebrate the big win, but I didn’t want to take advantage of my budding status as the star quarterback quite so quickly.

Just as I thought I was finally about to determine the molarity of the chemical substance in question, my phone rang, scattering my thoughts. My hand jerked, leaving a

jagged black line of charcoal across the page.

Ugh.

I jumped across my bed to answer the phone and didn’t bother looking at the caller ID.

“Hello!” I gasped.

“Hey, you.”

I grinned and settled back against my pillows, my frustrations with chemistry instantly evaporating.

“I’ve got something to tell you that I think will make you very happy,” Colt went on.

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“I hear that you are apparently now one to be feared on the field.”

I laughed. “Where’d you hear that?”

“A couple of my buddies play for McCobiak,” he said. “I was talking with one of them a little while ago and he told me how you lit up the field tonight.”

“It was nothing,” I replied with a grin.

Colt laughed. “Oh, so now you’re modest? But seriously, Whit, that’s great. I’m proud of you! Anyway, I really can’t wait to see you again. Tomorrow night seems

like it’s going to take forever to get here.”

“I know! I don’t know how I’m going to sit still all day.”

“Something tells me your day will fly by. People are going to want to talk to you like you can’t even imagine.”

“Oh, please. I don’t think one game will change everyone’s opinion of me,” I said, even though I secretly agreed with him.

“It will,” he insisted, and I smiled. “Just promise me one thing, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Let me have a shot with you before you start running around with other guys, okay?”

My heart jumped and I felt as if I wouldn’t have been surprised if it exploded on the spot. Colt was jealous! Jealous of guys that I hadn’t even met yet. No guy had

ever managed to say something quite so perfect to me before.

“Of course,” I said. “I don’t plan on it.”

Colt snorted back a laugh. “Oh, come on. You’re going to get a lot of attention. I’m just glad I got to you first.”

I thought about saying something like ‘even if you’d gotten to me last, you’d be the only one I’d want to date’ but something stopped me. Thank goodness. I knew

it’d be too much for a pre-first date conversation.

“Yeah, you should be,” I joked and he laughed again, sending shivers down my spine.

“Listen, I’ve got a few tests to study for and I better get it done tonight if I want to see you Friday. I’ll see you soon, Whit.”

He hung up before I could say good-bye. I smiled to myself, thoughts of determining the molarity of substances for Coach A gone. I could finish the assignment in the

morning. Right now, all I wanted to do was think of Colt.

“Whitney!”

The second I stepped out of my mom’s car on Friday morning, I heard someone shout my name. I turned around and smiled at the sight of Trenton hurrying towards

me from the parking lot.

“Morning.”

“Hey,” he replied. “Look, I have to warn you right away. Today is going to be crazy. Everyone is just sort of stunned by you. You’re all anyone could talk about last

night. Everyone wants to know who you are. I bet even Ella and Amanda won’t have anything bad to say.”

I snorted. “Let’s not be ridiculous.”

“Trust me,” Trenton replied. “You weren’t talking to people last night.”

“Yo! Trenton!”

A guy with wavy blond hair and bright green eyes approached us. I’d never seen him before. Trenton shot me a see-what-I-mean look.

“What’s up, Dylan?” he said.

Dylan just shrugged then glanced out over the parking lot that was slowly filling with cars. I smiled to myself, realizing that Dylan might only be here because I was.

“Okay, then,” Trenton said after a small, awkward pause. “If you don’t have anything to say, we’ll see you later.”

“Actually,” Dylan began, suddenly springing to life. He turned to face me, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “It’s nice to meet you. You were, uh, amazing in the

game yesterday. I, um, would’ve...said hi to you earlier, but I don’t remember seeing you before. Clinton Central is so big.”

“It’s cool,” I replied, trying not to grin. I knew what this was, that I was only somebody now because of the game, but it didn’t bother me like maybe it should have.

This was what I’d wanted; this was what came with what I loved.

“Well, it’s really great to meet you,” he said, apparently unsure of what else to say to me. “I’ll see you around, Whitney.” He winked and I struggled not to laugh.

“Count on it.”

The rest of the day flew by. I was convinced that I had met at least three-quarters of the student body by the time I went to practice that afternoon and I’d loved

every minute of it.

Their attention, though superficial at best, meant that I finally had made it to where I wanted to be. It didn’t matter to me that they only wanted to talk to me because I

had played well. I’d take that over the silent treatment every time.

Practice that afternoon went fantastically. Just about everyone congratulated me on my outstanding game the night before. The atmosphere around the team felt light

and fun and free and happy. Coach Alvarez was in a particularly great mood; he let us run just six laps instead of our customary ten.

“Let’s get pizza tonight to celebrate,” Craig suggested as we stretched.

“I can’t. I have plans.”

“Oh, with your friends from Ash Valley? Bring them,” he said. “I want to meet them, anyway.”

“No. I, um, I have a date.”

“What?” Craig’s eyes sparked. “With who? Do I know him? Oooh, is it Dylan Vrabel?”

I laughed. “No, he goes to Sutter.”

“Sutter? My cousin’s a sophomore there. I hit up a lot of their parties with her. What’s his name?”

“Colt.”

“Colt Lombardt?”

I realized that I didn’t know.

“He plays for their football team,” Craig continued. “Linebacker.”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Gotta be him.”

“Wait, so you were playing against your boyfriend and you didn’t even tell me?” He paused, then wrinkled his brow. “Your boyfriend was trying to sack you?”

“Um....” I trailed off. I’d had no trouble telling Trenton about this, but for some reason, telling Craig suddenly felt like a whole different ball game.

“Oh, whoa,” he said. “I get it. You met him Tuesday at the game, didn’t you?”

My first instinct was to lie, to just say that I hadn’t wanted anyone to know that I knew an opponent during my first game, but I’d never get away with it. Craig knew

Colt and even if he didn’t ask him about it, I knew I couldn’t count on Trenton not to spill the beans.

“Yeah,” I finally said.

“He talked to you after the game? That’s cute.”

I closed my eyes. No one had mentioned Colt to me since the morning after it had happened and I’d been sure I’d gotten away with my forbidden rendezvous on the

sideline. I never guessed it would come up now.

“Whitney, that’s really bad,” Craig said, interpreting my silence correctly. “It’s so...unsportsmanlike.”

“I know. And I feel bad about it, really, I do. But there’s nothing I could have done. He came up to me, not the other way around. I never would have gone to his

sideline during the game.”

“What? He came to our sideline? An opponent was on our sideline during the game?” I didn’t say anything. “Your boyfriend is nuts, Whitney.”

I just shrugged. “I didn’t ask him to do it. I didn’t even know who he was so you can stop being mad at me for something that I had nothing to do with.”

“You could have told him to leave. There are a lot of things you could have said to him to end it,” Craig replied. “But you clearly didn’t feel the need to discourage

him, did you?”

“I didn’t want to be rude,” I replied. “And, besides, I was glad he wanted to talk to me. Nobody else did.”

“This is unbelievable! You had a terrible game against Sutter. We all just chalked it up to lack of experience, but the whole time it was just because of some guy from

the other team. Do you even realize how that sounds, Whitney?” He glared at me for a few seconds before he stormed off, not bothering to wait for my reply.

The thing was, I didn’t exactly blame him.

By seven o’clock, I had completely forgotten about my fight with Craig during stretches that afternoon. My nervousness about him telling the rest of the team about

Colt had been replaced by a sense of unrelated anxiety that I couldn’t quite shake.

There was only half an hour left until Colt would pick me up and I was nowhere near ready to go. I was still dressed in my red shorts and T-shirt from practice.

Finally, I dragged myself into the shower. While I stood under the hot water, my mind wandered back to everything that had happened to me recently and I decided

that the last few weeks of my life could easily be shaped into a book or--and I knew Dirk would love this--maybe even a movie.

The things that had been happening to me were too monumental to ignore anymore; my dad dying on the field, finally going back to the sport after quitting for years,

Jason ditching me, Jason asking me out, getting cut from Ash Valley, Scott leading me on, Brenden quitting, Scott breaking up with his girlfriend for me, getting asked to

play for Clinton Central, Colt approaching me and now, here I was, getting ready to go out with yet another football-playing boy.

It was too much to dismiss as simply normal.

But truth be told, ever since the day that my dad passed away, things had never been normal for me. And as I stepped out of the shower and reached for my towel, I

should have known that things were about to get a whole lot more interesting.

XI.

I stood in front of my open closet door trying to decide what shirt best matched my favorite jeans when my phone rang. My first instinct was that it was Colt calling to

cancel and my heart fell to my toes. But a quick glance at my caller ID revealed an unknown number.

“Hello,” I answered, curious to know who was on the other end. I continued to stare absently into my closet.

“Hey, um, Whitney?”

The phone almost fell from my hands as my heart and stomach plummeted.

“It’s Jason.”

“Jason,” I repeated. “How..how did you get my number?” I had gotten a new phone a few months ago after my old one went for a dip in the ocean and knew he

didn’t have the number.

“I asked Dirk for it today,” he admitted. “I hope that’s okay.”

It wasn’t, but I didn’t tell him that.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your game against McCobiak,” Jason went on softly. “I read about it in the paper and it was all some of the guys on the team

could talk about all day. So, yeah. Congratulations.”

“Thanks Jason. If that’s all you wanted to say, I should go.” I tried to keep my voice steady and strong, but it was becoming harder with every word he said.

“Wait,” he said. “That isn’t everything. I-I’m sorry that I didn’t end things with Elisabeth before I asked you to go to dinner with me Friday. That was really terrible of

me, Whitney. I’m sorry.”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t say anything if I tried. I didn’t think I could be more stunned if you had told me that the Detroit Lions just beat the Indianapolis Colts

in the Super Bowl.

“Um. WB? You there?”

“Yeah,” I finally replied. “Yeah. I appreciate it, Jason. But I really do have to go.”

“Oh,” he said quietly. “Well, okay. I’ll talk to you again.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything at all.

“‘Bye, WB.”

He hung up and I sank down onto the edge of my bed, thoughts of finding the perfect shirt for the evening forgotten.

Jason Victorino had just apologized to me.

And, yeah, he hadn’t apologized for the most important thing, for what he’d done to hurt me for so long, but it was a start.

Wasn’t it?

A few minutes later, my phone rang again. I glanced down at the caller ID, not about to make the same mistake twice. It wasn’t Jason calling back and told myself I

wasn’t disappointed.

“Sophie, hey,” I said into the phone. “I can’t talk long.”

“If a number you don’t recognize calls you tonight, don’t answer! It’s Jason Victorino,” she blurted into the phone without taking a breath.

“Too late. He already called. I picked up.”

“Well, you didn’t talk to him or anything, did you? I hope you hung up the second he told you it was him.”

“Actually, I--”

“Whitney!’ she screeched. “Oh, my gosh! How could you do something like that? Jason is such a creep!”

“He apologized for what he pulled with me and Elisabeth Turner and congratulated me on my good game against McCobiak. That’s it. Nothing scandalous, Soph.”

Sophie stayed quiet for a moment. “One nice gesture doesn’t make up for two years of being a complete jerk, Whit. Please tell me you’re not getting some kind of

soft spot for him or something.”

“No, I’m not,” I said. “It’s just that...I don’t hate him the way I used to. I’m tired of hating him. It all just seems so...forgivable lately.”

“Forgivable? Did you really just say you could forgive Jason Victorino for everything he’s done to you?”

“Yeah, I did. Look, I have to go. Colt will be here soon.”

“Okay,” she said. “I just wanted to warn you about Jason. Oh, and there’s something else you should probably know. He broke up with Elisabeth Turner today.

Have a good time with Colt.”

Sophie hung up and I had to sit down for the second time in fifteen minutes.

Jason was single?

What did that mean?

Probably nothing. Probably Jason was just sick of Elisabeth’s rude behavior. Like I had to remind myself many, many times before, Jason Victorino never wanted to

be with me.

And that shouldn’t have made a difference anymore. I had a date with Colt tonight, with a great guy who seemed interested in me for all the right reasons. That should

be the most important thing.

But for some reason, it just wasn’t.

“It’s really good to see you again, Whitney,” Colt said as we walked down the driveway towards his parked car. He touched the small of my back as I opened the

car door.

“It is,” I agreed.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “Or do you just want to go to the beach?”

I slid into the passenger seat and he closed the door behind me.

“It doesn’t matter to me,” I said. “Whatever you want to do is fine.”

“If you’re sure,” he replied. “Then we’ll just go to the beach.”

As he drove down the highway, the twenty-minute ride to the ocean was silent. I didn’t know what to make of that. Jason and I had never had trouble finding things

to say to each other.

Whoa.

Where did that come from? This had nothing to do with Jason Victorino. This was about me and Colt, Colt and me, and nobody else.

He finally slowed down to a stop and we climbed out, standing alone together as night began to descend on the beach.

“So,” Colt said, but then he didn’t say anything else and I frowned.

This was nowhere near what I’d been imagining ever since he first suggested we come to the shore.

“Here, I brought a blanket for us,” he said. “Let’s sit on the sand over there.”

I nodded.

“So...how’s football going”? he asked once we’d settled in.

“It’s good,” I replied. “But some of the guys on the team found out how we met today and they weren’t really happy about it.”

Colt furrowed his brow. “What do you mean, they weren’t happy about it?”

“They connected the dots. I mentioned I was hanging out with someone tonight and Craig knows who you are and I felt like I had to tell them the truth about how we

met. I mean, people saw us. They’d only find out anyway.”

“Does it bother you? Are you upset about what I did?”

“What? No, of course not. If I didn’t like it, I would’ve walked away from you while it was happening, not while we’re already hanging out.”

“Okay. As long as you’re sure,” he replied, though he still looked somewhat skeptical.

“You were right about all the guys coming on to me today after the game.”

“Really.” His voice was flat, emotionless. “Like who?”

“Well,” I said, figuring I would rather talk about this than sit around in awkward silence. “Jason is acting kind of strangely around me lately.”

“Wait, wait.” Colt’s eyes flashed. “Jason Victorino? That Jason? As in your old best friend? The Ash Valley quarterback Jason?”

“Yeah. Him.”

“And you’re okay with this?” Colt wanted to know. “Like, you’re encouraging him?”

I tried my best to look horrified. I knew this probably wouldn’t go over well, but I didn’t realize just how irritated Colt would become. “Of course not. Don’t be

ridiculous. I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

“That doesn’t mean you wouldn’t rather be off somewhere with him. I’ve been on enough dates where I was thinking about a girl other than the one I was with.”

“Oh, well, that’s good to know.”

I knew perfectly well that I was being argumentative and possibly ridiculous and I couldn’t figure out why.

Colt let out a long sigh. “I wasn’t talking about you and you know that.”

I did.

Neither of us said anything for a few minutes and I felt the overwhelming desire to look down at my pink Barbie watch just so I’d know how much longer I’d be

forced to sit here in silence with him.

He must have felt the same way.

“You know, we can always leave, if that’s what you want.”

I didn’t say anything for a minute. “I’m sorry,” I finally replied. “It’s just...my mind is elsewhere.”

“With Jason.”

It wasn’t a question.

I hesitated, but nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He gently reached out to touch my arm, but quickly withdrew his hand. “But I hope you know that I like you, too. And if all you want to do is sit around

and think about him, if you’d rather he was here instead of me, then just tell me so I can move on. It’s not a big deal.”

“No. Don’t do that,” I said, surprising him. But I wasn’t sure if I really meant it. “It’s just that Jason called me right before you got to my house. That’s the only

reason he’s on my mind.”

Colt nodded. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“Thanks,” I replied, and meant it. “So when’s your next game?”

And that’s how the rest of the night went. We talked football and listened to the sounds of the ocean as the tide rolled in. I had a good time; Colt was a great guy to

spend a Friday night with.

But I never quite forgot about Jason.

A week later brought about our next game, this one against East Larondo High School, a 3-1 team with a lights-out running back and surprisingly tough defense.

“McCobiak suffered a crush defeat at our hands,” Coach Alvarez said in his pregame speech. “And now its East Larondo’s turn. Berringer, I expect similar results

from you, if not even better. Defense, I expect smart, crisp football. No fouls, is that clear? No pass interference, no holdings, no encroachment, nothing. No mistakes.

And special teams? No blocked punts, field goals, or extra points. No fumbles. Don’t let them win the battle of field position. This is our game, just like each and every

one is. The only people out there who don’t know that yet are the ones wearing the East Larondo jerseys. So let’s get out there and show them who we are right away.

Establish yourselves early and never look back.”

We rallied around Coach Alvarez’s speech. It was a home game, our last home game before we had to play three straight games on the road, and we wanted to--

needed to--make it count.

I knew we were about to even our record at 2-2 and after that, nobody was going to stop us.

“Whitney Berringer with the 33-yard pass completion to Mark McCoy!” the announcer yelled into the PA system. “Listen to this crowd roar! Even I have to admit

that when Coach Alvarez brought her here from Ash Valley, I had my doubts, but let me tell you, this girl can play!”

I laughed at his remarks. They didn’t surprise me; I knew almost everyone felt the same way he did and I was okay with that. I would never mind proving that I was

good enough.

I looked up into the stands where my mom always sat with Scott, Sophie, Matt, and Dirk. My mother hadn’t been able to come to today’s game, but the rest of the

usual crowd was there. My eyes traveled a few rows up and I spotted Colt with some of his friends. We still talked almost everyday since our night at the beach, but I

wasn’t sure that original spark was there.

My eyes drifted to his left and I almost dropped the football.

There were no surprises left in the world. How could there be? And I didn’t know what I’d done wrong in some past life, but I was sure I was paying for that

mistake now.

Jason Victorino sat in the stands alone, watching me. I stared back at him for a few seconds before forcing myself to turn around, snapping the spell and refocusing

on the game.

“You okay, Whit?” Todd, the right tackle, called out to me. “You don’t look so good. And there are only thirteen seconds left on the play clock!”

I bit my lip, shaking off the last few seconds, and rattled off a few numbers that told the offense what play we were about to run. I positioned my hands underneath

Chris Sampson’s butt.

“Down! Set! Hike, hike!”

Chris snapped the ball into my waiting hands...I dropped back...Todd laid out one of the East Larondo linemen with a massive hit, one that was sure to earn him

praise from Coach Alvarez back on the sideline.

Mark McCoy ran down the sideline, waving at me to complete the play I’d called, but I could see East Larondo’s safety streaking across the field to cover him and I

wasn’t sure I could make the throw without risking an interception.

We had a fourteen-point lead and it was time for me to take a chance.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Coach Alvarez running up and down the sideline, yelling wildly.

“What are you doing? McCoy is wide open! Berringer! Throw it! Throw it! Throw it!”

I didn’t throw it and as the pocket collapsed around me, I began to run downfield. Mark, realizing what I was doing, hurried to lay a block on an East Larondo

linebacker who was in hot pursuit of me.

The yard lines flashed by me as I ran. Finally, I was at the fifteen...then the ten...the five...then--

“TOUCHDOWN CLINTON CENTRAL!” screamed the announcer. “I don’t believe it! Berringer runs it in for the score! Oh, what a fantastic play by Whitney

Berringer!”

As the clock ticked off the final seconds of the game, Clinton Central earned its second win in which we’d scored forty points or more. The fans sitting in the stands

erupted and many spilled out onto the field after the game ended to find the players they knew.

I’d never seen anything quite like this so early in the regular season; it was something I’d expect in the playoffs, maybe, but now?

Who was I to complain? As I stood near midfield among the crowd, people I’d never seen before congratulated me and patted me on the back. Finally, I spotted

Colt making his way toward me.

“There’s my girl!” he said, wrapping me up in his arms and lifting me off the ground. “I’m so proud of you, Whit! That was unbelievable. Your rushing touchdown

was crazy!”

I beamed up at him and hugged him back. I looked up then and caught sight of Jason Victorino standing a few feet away from us, staring at me.

My stomach crashed to the turf. My heart jumped and began beating faster and faster. I could feel myself start to sweat. My hands trembled and I closed my eyes. I

tightened my grasp on Colt, not because I wanted to, but because I suddenly needed him to hold me up.

Why was this happening to me? Why could Jason make me come so unglued even after everything he’d done? It wasn’t fair. I didn’t want anything to do with him.

My brain told me that everything I was feeling for him was stupid; it couldn’t lead to anything good. And I knew it was right.

But my body? My heart? They ached for Jason and no matter how much I wished it wasn’t true, he had something no one else I’d met ever did.

The ability to get to me.

XII.

Later that Friday night, Sophie threw a party for no good reason other than to let loose and have a little fun. She’d called to let me know about it a few days ago, but

I hadn’t known whether or not I’d want to go.

After the game, though, and that scene with Jason that only the two of us knew about, I decided that a night free from everything related to football and guys was

exactly what I needed.

Sophie lived about twenty minutes away from me by foot, so I decided to enjoy the warm night and walk there. It’d give me some time to myself, something I’d had

very little of lately.

As I walked, I knew I should be thinking about Colt and how perfect he was, but I didn’t think I wanted someone that looked good, was supposed to be good, had

everything I needed on paper, but wasn’t right for me. The spark that logic said should exist between Colt and I simply wasn’t there and I didn’t think I could sacrifice

being completely happy for something that wasn’t as good as what I knew I deserved just because it was convenient and available.

My thoughts continued to drift back to Jason.

But that didn’t surprise me.

Nothing really surprised me anymore.

I opened the Schofield’s front door a little while later and Sophie came running to meet me.

“Whit! I’m so glad you’re here.”

I smiled, but before I could reply, people near me grew quiet and turned to stare. A blonde boy I had never seen before approached me and draped his arm across

my shoulders.

“Hey there,” he said. I maneuvered my body so that he was no longer touching me. “Did I hear Sophie right? You’re Whitney? Like...Whitney Berringer? Clinton

Central’s quarterback?”

I smiled politely and shot Sophie a questioning look. Who was this kid? Definitely not someone I’d ever seen at Ash Valley before.

“Phillip, Phillip,” Sophie said, rolling her eyes. “Take it easy, will you? Whitney’s my friend, not some chick for you to fawn all over.”

“You know her? And you didn’t even say anything? Some cousin you are.”

I wrinkled my nose. Sophie was related to this tool?

“Excuse me,” I said. “But if you don’t mind, or even if you do, I think I’m going to leave now.”

“No!” Phillip protested. “I didn’t mean to come off like a creep or anything. I’m just really impressed by what I’ve heard about you, that’s all.”

“Thanks, but who I am has nothing to do with what I can do on the field. And you don’t know me so please don’t pretend like you do.”

I walked off towards the kitchen with Sophie, leaving a bewildered Phillip standing behind us. I’d begun to grow tired of all the extra attention that came with on-field

success, but I knew that I’d asked for it and had no right to complain.

“Sorry my cousin’s such a sleaze bag.”

I grinned. “Don’t worry. I just need a night away from it all. I’m kind of sick of everything that’s Clinton Central right now.”

“Why? I thought things were going great there.”

“They are. It’s just...I don’t know, I guess I associate Colt with Clinton Central because that’s where I met him and he’s involved with football, and that’s where

things really aren’t going that well.”

“You wanna talk about it?” Sophie asked.

I knew she meant it, but I also knew she wanted to enjoy her own party.

“Nah. Not tonight. Let’s just have fun, okay?”

“Yeah. I know Dirk’s around somewhere if you want to go find him.”

“What? You actually got him to come out?”

“I had to threaten to tell people about that time at McDonald’s on Fifth Street to get him out, but he’s here.”

I laughed and finally felt myself start to loosen up and really believe that I could have a good time tonight.

That is, until I saw Colt making his way across the living room.

“Oh, my...” Sophie trailed off, noticing him, too. “Would you look at that? He’s probably the hottest guy I’ve seen in...well, ever.”

“Sophie!” I hissed. “That’s Colt.”

She turned to look at me and, in doing so, blocked me from his line of sight.

“Thanks.”

“Did you invite him?”

“No! I didn’t tell him what I was doing tonight, so he either knows a friend of yours or he heard about it somewhere and figured that I might be here.”

“Wow. I know you didn’t want to deal with any of this tonight, but I don’t think you really have a choice. You should go talk to him.”

“No. I don’t want to say anything to him unless I have to.”

“And this guy is your boyfriend?”

I got the feeling Sophie wasn’t asking because she wanted confirmation, but because she was trying to prove a point, and it was a valid question.

Message received, loud and clear.

Suddenly, Sophie’s eyes widened as she noticed something behind me. “Uh, I’ll catch up with you later, Whit.”

I was about to turn around to see what had made her so anxious when a voice spoke up from behind me.

“Whitney.”

The voice was soft and kind and I knew exactly who it belonged to. Surprising myself, and probably him, I offered him a small smile as I turned to look at him.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Jason Victorino said.

“Sophie’s my best friend.”

He nodded. “Like I was?”

If I’d been holding something, I knew it would have tumbled to the ground when those words left his mouth.

“No,” I replied firmly without needing to think about it. I stared directly into his eyes, wanting him to know that I meant every word. “I may not have been friends with

her for as long as I was with you, but she’s been a lot better to me than you even were.” I saw the hurt flicker in his eyes and I liked it. “And do you want to know why?

Because Sophie never ditched me when things in my life were less than perfect. It’s not always roses and football, Jason. Sometimes life isn’t the way we want it to be,

but we just need to find a way to deal and know people will be there for us. You couldn’t do that for me.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I know. I deserve that. For what it’s worth, Whitney, I’m sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. And I was hoping that maybe you’d

take a walk with me? I just want a chance to talk to you.”

“I, uh...” I trailed off.

My mind was spinning, dancing, twirling, doing all sorts of obnoxious, impractical, unwanted things. So was pretty much every other part of my body. I decided to

say no. Jason didn’t deserve any more of my time; he’d already thrown away the eleven years I’d given him. He shouldn’t have the chance to waste any more of it.

“Okay,” I said.

“Whitney!” another voice cried out then. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Oh, gosh,” I muttered under my breath, and I was pretty sure Jason overheard. “I didn’t know you would be here tonight, Colt.”

“You would have if you just told me what you were doing.”

“It’s just a night with some of my friends from Ash Valley.”

“Your friends?” he repeated with a raised eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware that you still considered this guy one of your friends.” He jerked his head in Jason’s direction.

“I...I don’t,” I said, shooting a quick glance at Jason, whose face fell. “I’m sorry, Jason. I can’t call you my friend. Not yet.”

He smiled; I’d given him a little bit of hope that maybe all wasn’t lost between us and, at that moment, I wasn’t so sure it was.

“I can’t believe you,” Colt said, throwing up his arms. “You come here to hang out with your friends and don’t bother telling me and then you go and get all chummy

with this creep who ditched you when your dad died. I didn’t think he was the kind of person you wanted in your life, Whitney, and if he is, maybe I shouldn’t be. I

thought you were better than this.”

“You hardly know me,” I fired back, growing angry. “You don’t know me well enough to tell me who I am. And I don’t think you ever will.”

He looked stunned, completely dumbfounded, almost as though he’d had a bucket of frigid ice water poured down the front of his pants.

“Are you breaking up with me? Because I really don’t think you want--”

“No,” I said. “I’m not.”

He looked shocked.

So did Jason.

“Then why don’t we just go and--”

“No, I don’t want to go anywhere with you. Not now. I’ll call you when I’m ready to talk. But I think you should probably leave.”

“I’m not leaving. Not without you.”

“That’s going to be kind of a problem then because I’m not going with you.”

“Come on, Whitney. Let’s just go and we can talk about all of this.”

“I said no, Colt.”

“Whitney, please. I don’t think you’re thinking--”

“She said no.” Jason fixed Colt with a stare of steel, one that I remembered seeing on his face only on the field. “You don’t want to start something here. You’re way

outnumbered and I’ve got an entire football team roaming around this place and all of them would do anything for Whitney and you can bet your sweet butt that they

don’t want to hear that you’re giving her a hard time.”

Colt rolled his eyes. “I’m not scared of your goons, Jason. And I’m not leaving without her.”

“Yeah, you are, unless she decides that she wants to go with you. But that might be kind of difficult considering that I’m about to leave with her.”

“What?”

I was pretty sure that I had never seen anyone turn such a vibrant shade of purple before. Colt turned to look at me.

I nodded.

“No girlfriend of mine is going to do something as ridiculous as that.”

“I wasn’t going to do this, Colt, but if that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get, I guess.”

He smiled, satisfied that he had finally gotten through to me. “I’m glad you see things my way, Whitney. Now let’s go.”

“I guess you don’t have a girlfriend anymore,” I continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Because no boyfriend of mine is going to tell me what I can and can’t do.”

Colt paled, but didn’t say another word as he stormed out of Sophie’s house and, I figured, out of my life.

Jason looked over at me and offered a small smile. The cluster of people that had assembled during the argument shot curious glances at us, all of them aware of our

past, but they soon lost interest in our staring game.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine.” I took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

We walked out of Sophie’s house and down her driveway in silence. He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and I rubbed my hands over my bare arms

to stay warm.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight.” He was first to break the silence.

“I don’t know why I did.”

“But you came,” he replied. “I think that counts for something. To be honest, I never thought I’d get a chance to talk to you again.”

“Me, neither.” I paused. “I never thought I’d want to talk to you again.”

“What changed?”

“I don’t know,” I replied truthfully. “Time, maybe. I hated you for a long time, Jason, but I can’t hate you forever.”

He seemed surprised. “You don’t hate me?”

“I’m here.”

“Yeah. I guess you are,” he said. He looked away for a second. “Whitney, why didn’t you try out for the team freshman year?”

“I wasn’t ready,” I replied without hesitation. “I hated football and I hated you. I couldn’t imagine ever playing again. So I didn’t.”

“You blamed the game for your dad’s death.”

“I--I don’t know about that exactly,” I stammered, fidgeting with the pink Barbie watch on my wrist. “It was just that...I don’t know, I had so many bad memories

from the field and, at the time, they outweighed all of the good ones.”

“So why now? Why did you come back?”

“The time was right,” I replied with a shrug. “It’s simple. I don’t hate football anymore and I don’t hate you.”

“I’m glad you tried out,” he said after a moment. “Seeing you on the field gave me the chance to talk to you that I’d been looking for.”

“You didn’t do a lot with it.”

“I know. I handled it terribly,” he admitted. “I wasn’t thinking straight. You make nervous, Whitney. You have no idea.”

I didn’t want to hear what kind of effect I had on him. Not yet. There were still too many questions I needed to ask.

“Jason,” I finally said. “Where did you go?”

It was a simple question, but I was sure it was the most important one I had ever asked.

He didn’t answer me right away. We walked along in silence, only the dim glow of the street lamps lighting our way.

“I had to leave,” he said. “It sounds stupid, but it’s true. I had to do it.”

“Okay,” I replied, and for a moment, I knew he thought I was going to let it all go. But I was determined to finally understand what happened. “But why? I just don’t

get why.”

“I don’t know if I can explain it. I want to,” he added quickly. “But I don’t know if I can. I spent eleven years hanging out with you. You can’t think that after all that

time I didn’t have any feelings for you. I was scared.” He paused and swallowed. “I was in love with you, Whitney. We were fifteen and I loved you and it scared me.

So I left.”

“Jason, I--”

“Let me finish. I know that being scared isn’t good enough. And it shouldn’t be good enough. I did everything wrong when all I wanted to do was get it right. I’m

sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry your dad died. I never told you that before, but if there’s one thing that you have to know, it’s that I didn’t leave because of

what happened to him. It had absolutely nothing to do with that. I just didn’t know how to be there for you and that was wrong. So I left. I’m not trying to excuse what

I did. I’m just trying to explain it.”

“I understand,” I cut in. And it was true. I never expected to believe him, but I did. “But two years? You never said anything to me. Not a word. Two years, Jason.”

“I know. I know, Whitney. I did it all wrong. And I don’t know if I ever even knew just how much I screwed up until I saw you in that mustard yellow shirt at

tryouts. It was all I needed to see.”

“Why?” I was determined not to make this easy for him.

“It was the first time when I really understood why I did it. But I also realized that I need you in my life.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Because I didn’t want to be in love with you anymore. It’s a lame reason, but it’s all I’ve got. All I have now is the truth, Whitney. What else is there for me to lose?

I knew what I was doing when you tried out was wrong. I was dating Elisabeth and I thought you’d never speak to me again. I was still in love with you and I thought

that wasn’t right and it probably wasn’t. I had a girlfriend, but I figured that if I was a jerk about things, then it’d be easier for me to get over you.”

I had the overwhelming urge to ask if it worked; if he was able to get over me that easily.

“Whitney,” he said. “It didn’t work. But by then, you hated me and I was stuck in my relationship with Elisabeth.”

“I wouldn’t have hated you if you explained things. But you never did. Not one word.”

“I don’t know how else to tell you that I’m sorry. I just hope you can forgive me. I’d really like that, but I understand if you can’t. I don’t know if I--”

“Jason. It’s okay,” I said simply.

“There’s something else I have to say.” His voice grew soft and I had to take a step closer to hear him. “And I’m not sure how you’re going to react to this.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m still in love with you, Whitney.”

My eyes grew large and I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.

“Yeah,” he said after a second. “I knew I should have kept my mouth shut. This was too much too soon. I’m sorry.”

“Jason,” I managed to squeak out. “Let me explain something to you.”

He grimaced and I knew he was bracing for me to tell him why I could never be in love with him, why I deserved so much better than him, why I wanted nothing to

do with him, now or ever.

Everything I should have said to him.

I could hardly believe I was going to do what I knew I was about to do. I stood close enough to him so that I didn’t have to move far. I leaned into him and lightly

pressed my lips to his before quickly stepping back.

Jason’s eyes remained closed for one second longer than they should have.

“Jason,” I said. “Do you get it now?”

He shook his head back and forth like a robot on autopilot.

“All these years,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been in love with you, too. I tried to get over it and believe me, you made it easier when you treated me like I

had never even mattered to you. But it never completely worked. Sure, I’ve dated since then and so have you. But when it comes down to it, I always got bored too

quickly or there wasn’t enough chemistry. I never knew what I was comparing all of those guys to. I couldn’t think of some great romance in my life. But now I think I

get it. I just wanted them to be you.”

“I never...” he trailed off. “I can’t say that I never meant to hurt you. Because I guess that I did. But I can’t tell you what it means to me to be here with you now, like

this, with this chance. I never thought it would happen. Especially after what went down after Coach made his announcement about the quarterbacks.”

“You mean when I cancelled to go out with Scott Marino?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice wavering. “That.” He reached out and laced his fingers through mine as we walked. I tightened my grip on his hand.

“I couldn’t figure out what you wanted with me,” I said. “What was I supposed to think?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I’m glad you’re giving me this chance. I won’t mess things up this time. I promise.”

I nodded and smiled into the night.

Whitney Berringer and Jason Victorino.

It was like nothing had ever changed.

I woke up with a huge smile on my face the next morning and couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow things had made themselves right overnight, but I couldn’t

remember why.

And then it hit me.

Jason.

I glanced over at my alarm clock. It was only 8:45, much earlier than I had expected to wake up, but amazingly I didn’t feel tired. I hadn’t gotten home until a little

past three in the morning as Jason and I had wound up walking back to his house where we spent most of the night talking and laughing in his living room like we used

to.

Mr. Victorino had strolled downstairs a few minutes after eleven and stumbled when he saw me sitting on the couch. He looked beyond baffled, almost like he was

left wondering whether the past two years had actually happened or if he was just now waking up from a very long dream.

“Whitney!” he had exclaimed, shooting a quizzical glance at his son. “It’s good to see you again. I hear you’re tearing up the field over at Clinton Central these days.”

I had smiled and nodded and he didn’t ask me anything else.

I didn’t see my mom when I’d gotten home last night and now I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell her what happened. I knew she wasn’t exactly fond of Jason, but I didn’t

care about that. I was just happy to finally have him.

After a few minutes of laying there, beaming at the ceiling and running over the events of last night in my head, I hopped out of bed and picked up my cell phone.

Three missed calls: two from Colt and one from Sophie. Neither had left a message so I called Sophie back first.

“What the heck is going on?” she demanded by way of greeting. “You’re dating Jason Victorino now?”

“How did you know?” I wasn’t surprised to hear the irritation in her voice.

“Oh, please, Whitney. Everybody knows. You broke up with your boyfriend at my party to leave with Jason Victorino and neither of you come back. What do you

expect people to think?”

“Everybody also knows what happened between us two years ago. Why would anyone just assume we got together after that?”

“Why else would Jason jump to your defense like he did? It was obvious to anyone with a brain--and that includes Colt, by the way--that he’s into you. And I’ve

known all along how you feel about him. Nothing else explains why you could never manage to date anyone else for longer than a week.”

“I can’t believe everyone knows.”

“I can’t believe it’s true. Didn’t we talk about this? Wasn’t that enough? I thought we agreed that Jason isn’t right for you.”

“That was before I understood why he did what he did. And you said it yourself, Soph. I’ve always been in love with him and now I have a chance to do something

about it. Why aren’t you happy for me?”

“How could he have possibly explained himself well enough to get you to date him?”

“I don’t think I want to tell you that.”

I had, of course, planned on telling Sophie every detail, but after hearing her chilly, accusatory tone and dealing with her condescending, know-it-all attitude, I didn’t

know if I could trust her with all of this the way that I wanted to. I needed to hear that she was happy for me.

“You what?”

“I don’t think I’m going to tell you. Sorry, but you’re not exactly supportive right now, so why should I tell you anything about it?”

“Are you serious right now? You should tell me because I’m the one who cleaned up all of the pieces of you that he broke. You should tell me because I’m the one

who sat through countless hours of discussions about him, analyzing every single thing he said or did. You should tell me because I brought you back to football this

year. There are so many reasons why you should tell me and none why you shouldn’t.”

“You’re wrong. There’s one reason and I think it makes up for all of the reasons why I should. You don’t support me. You did exactly what Jason did to me two

years ago. You’re not there for me when I need you the most.”

I hung up the phone and it immediately rang again. I ignored Sophie’s call and instead dialed Colt. I didn’t want to do this at all, but I had to if I wanted to be fair to

him and to Jason and to myself.

“Whitney, thank gosh you called.” Colt answered on the first ring. “I’ve been worried sick about you! How could you go off with that Victorino creep like that? I

practically had a heart attack.”

“Colt, wait. I’m calling you for one reason. I’m not going to apologize for last night. You were wrong to show up at the party like that and you were wrong to try to

make me leave with you when I said I didn’t want to.”

“I don’t like this,” he muttered. “Whitney, if you still want me to be your boyfriend when this phone call ends, I suggest you apologize to me right now.”

“I already told you, that’s not going to happen. I’m not your girlfriend anymore. We broke up last night.”

“You didn’t mean that.”

“Well, I mean it now. I’m calling to make sure that you know I mean it. I’m with Jason, Colt. And I’m not sorry for that, either. The only thing I have to apologize for

is not being upfront with you about how I felt from the beginning.”

He sighed. “I should have known this would happen. Good luck with football, Whitney. I’m sure I’ll see you again on the field.”

He hung up before I could say anything else, but all I could do was smile. It was finally real.

I was all Jason’s.

XIII.

The number of people at Clinton Central on Monday morning who had found out that I was dating Ash Valley’s starting quarterback shocked me. I had never really

looked at it like that, but now that I did, I realized how interesting this relationship would be.

The big Clinton Central vs. Ash Valley rematch was only a week and a half away. Would we be able to get through that kind of a test so early? I didn’t know if I

wanted to find out, but it wasn’t like I had much of a choice.

“Trying to butter up Victorino before the big game?” Trenton asked me at lunch that day. “You know, take his head out of the game? Psych him out?”

“Nah,” I replied with a grin. “I tried that once before. Didn’t work out so well for me. For some reason, I actually kind of like the guy.”

Trenton grinned. “Isn’t that sweet? But I know one thing is certain here. You need to win the Ash Valley game, Whit. I don’t think you’d like what would happen

around here if you lost a game like that to your boyfriend. Even if you won out after that.”

I grimaced. I hadn’t thought about that, either.

Only one of us could win.

And it had to be me.

I couldn’t believe what I was getting ready to do two nights later. I stood in front of the mirror, putting the finishing touches on my outfit for dinner at the Victorino’

house.

Nights like this used to be nothing to think twice about. I used to go over there all of the time and my mom had always been surprised when I was at our dinner table

and Jason wasn’t.

It all still felt very surreal to me and despite the fact that I knew I probably shouldn’t trust this thing with Jason quite yet, I did.

“I just can’t believe that you and Jason are together after all of these years,” my mother, who had been surprisingly supportive of this, gushed from the doorway.

She’d gotten over her aversion to him pretty quickly after I broke the news. “I just knew you two were perfect for each other.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help but smile, feeling completely happy for the first time in what felt like forever. “I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up.”

Jason’s house was all the way down the street and I was there in a few minutes, standing on the front porch, ringing the familiar bell. The door flew open and Jason

stood in front of me, grinning. He pulled me into a hug and I smiled.

“I’m glad you came tonight. I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Jason, come on. I’m your girlfriend now. You have to start getting used to the fact that I don’t hate you.”

He laughed. “Sorry. It might take me some time. I’m used to thinking that I disgust you.”

“Not anymore,” I said with a grin before leaning in to kiss him.

We’d only been kissing for a few seconds when Jason’s parents walked into the hall.

“Hello, Whitney,” Mrs. Victorino said, not unkindly.

I jumped back from Jason, whose face turned purple with the embarrassment of a boy who’d just been caught making out with his girlfriend by his parents.

“Hi, Mrs. Victorino,” I replied, staying more composed than Jason. “It’s great to see you again.”

“Yes,” said Jason’s mother. “You certainly don’t have to say that twice. I know I’ve missed having you around. And judging by the looks of things, I’m not the only

one.”

“Mom.” Jason rolled his eyes.

I laughed and took his hand in mine, something I never would have done in front of Colt’s parents, but felt surprisingly comfortable with around the Victorinos.

“Why don’t we go ahead and move into the other room?” Mrs. Victorino suggested. “I can see I’ve embarrassed my son quite enough for one evening.”

Jason just rolled his eyes again, but said nothing as he led me down the hall into the living room.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked.

“Certainly not,” Mrs. Victorino replied. “You just go ahead and sit on the couch with Jason and watch television until dinner is ready.”

“You know what?” Jason asked when I’d settled in next to him. “Nothing has changed at all. You’re still as polite as ever and my mom would still bend over

backwards to make you happy.”

“What can I say?” I joked. “I’m irresistible.”

“That you are,” he said. “Just look at me. I couldn’t stay away.”

“You managed okay for awhile,” I replied.

“I guess,” he said. “Although that’s not really an accomplishment.”

“Look at it like this. If things hadn’t happened the way they did, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“True,” Jason said. “Maybe we would have broken up already and I’d be dating Elisabeth Turner. And liking it.” He shuddered and made a face, and I laughed.

“You’ll stay awhile after we eat, right?”

“Sure. I’m yours for the night.”

“I’ve got to be the luckiest guy ever.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “You really are.”

He laughed and swatted at me playfully.

“Dinner!” Mrs. Victorino called out from the kitchen. Jason gave me a quick kiss before we went into the dining room and sat opposite from his parents at the table.

“So, Whitney,” Mr. Victorino began. “Tell us about Clinton Central. From what I read in the papers, you’re quite the quarterback. But then, I guess I always knew

that you would do great things on the field.”

“There isn’t much to tell,” I replied. “I got cut from Ash Valley and my dad used to play with Coach Alvarez at Clinton Central so it worked out for me. He let me try

out and the rest is pretty much history. I got lucky that the Panthers needed someone. You know what they say about timing.”

“You tried out for Ash Valley?” Mr. Victorino looked startled. “To play football? Quarterback?”

“Well, yeah.”

I didn’t know what surprised me more: that Jason hadn’t told his father or that Matt hadn’t mentioned it.

“Hmm. I didn’t know about that. Jason, you never said anything about that.”

“I know,” he muttered into his plate, not bothering to raise his gaze.

“Why not? I would’ve expected you to tell me that Whitney started playing again.”

“It slipped my mind.”

“Oh, come off it,” Mrs. Victorino cut in. “There’s no way you would just forget about something like this. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I don’t know,” he said, refusing to look at me. “I guess I was embarrassed that I almost lost my spot to her.”

“Why?” Mr. Victorino pressed. “Whitney is an excellent quarterback and I’m sure she would have been great for Ash Valley. I’m surprised you weren’t kept around

at least as a backup, Whitney. Why is that? Or did you just decide that you’d rather start elsewhere?”

“Um, no,” I said, feeling extremely uncomfortable with the direction this conversation had taken. “I wasn’t offered any spot.”

Mr. Victorino shook his head. “That’s a shame. A damned shame that a girl with your talent didn’t make it. Heck, it’s a damned shame that a player with your talent

didn’t make it. Your gender should have nothing to do with this. I’m surprised at Lou Harrington. And I’m surprised at you, Jason.”

“You wouldn’t get it,” he said. “I’ve been the starter there for two years and I didn’t want to lose the job to anyone. It’s not because it was Whitney. I would have

been upset if it was anybody who came in and replaced me. It’d mean that I wasn’t the best anymore.”

I thought I should change the subject as quickly as possible. I didn’t want to watch Jason squirm like this and I wished his father would ease up. Nothing Jason said

bothered me and I hated that Mr. Victorino kept pushing the issue, like he was defending my honor or helping to make me feel better about it. Wasn’t it obvious how

uncomfortable this was? And everything had worked out for the best. Jason and I both had exactly what we wanted and now we finally had each other.

Eleven years ago, football had brought us together. I didn’t want it to tear us apart now.

“Chester,” Mrs. Victorino said, resting a hand on her husband’s arm. “Why don’t we save this discussion for another time? It seems that all we ever do is talk about

football. I’m a bit tired of it.”

Mr. Victorino didn’t ease his critical stare from his son, but he nodded. “I suppose.”

“Thank you,” she replied, pursing her lips.

“I’m done eating,” Jason announced then. “I’ll be in the living room when you’re done, Whit.”

He pushed his chair back from the table, nearly taking the tablecloth with him as he stalked off into the kitchen with his half-full plate.

“You just had to start with him, didn’t you?” Mrs. Victorino muttered to her husband.

“I’m finished, too,” I said, standing up awkwardly, not wanting to be around for the rest of this conversation. “Thanks for dinner, Mrs. V. The food was great.”

Jason’s mother smiled kindly at me and gestured that it was okay for me to leave the table and join her son.

I hurried to place my plate in the kitchen sink and found Jason, slumped on the couch, flicking through channels, passing both ESPN and ESPN2, which I knew were

all he ever really watched. I walked over to join him.

“Hey,” I said, sitting down next to him. I pulled a folded knit blanket into my lap, then looked at him when he didn’t say anything. “Jason?”

He finally met my eyes with a blank expression. “What? What do you want me to say?”

“Oh. I don’t know,” I said, taken aback by his outburst. “You don’t have to be mad at me, you know. I didn’t do anything.”

“Sorry. It’s just my dad. He makes me angry sometimes. Sorry.”

“I’m not mad about what he said.”

“What?”

“I’m not mad,” I replied. “I get it. I get why you felt that way and I’m sure I’d do the same thing if Coach Alvarez suddenly decided he might want to replace me.”

He grinned and reached over to unfold the blanket in my lap. He grabbed one end and pulled it over us as I snuggled in beside him.

“What to watch, what to watch,” he murmured into my hair. “If I remember right, you hate horror movies. All that blood.”

“You remember right.”

“Great.” He flicked the remote through a few channels and settled on HBO, which was showing one of the creepiest movies I’d ever heard of.

“What? Jason, I can’t watch this.”

“Sure you can,” he said. “You’re with me.”

I smiled. Hopefully, if things went right, we wouldn’t even see most of it, anyway.

XIV.

There were only two days left until the huge rivalry game between Clinton Central and Ash Valley. I couldn’t go anywhere without hearing speculation that the

Panthers were doomed because I wouldn’t be able to play well enough to beat my boyfriend.

I hated those rumors, but I did my best to ignore them. I understood why people were nervous, why they might think I couldn’t do it, but I’d been playing well lately,

and knew I’d be able to put together my best game against Mr. Harrington and Ash Valley.

True, it wasn’t like any other game I would ever play in. But that wasn’t because it was me versus Jason. No, it was bigger than that for me. Bigger than that for

everyone. Ash Valley had beaten Clinton Central to go to the state championship last year on a controversial call late in the game. This year, the Panthers would have

none of that. I would make sure my team wasn’t in a position to lose to the referees at the end of the game.

I had to come up big here and I knew it.

But no pressure.

I also knew that my hard-earned respect would mean nothing if I lost to Ash Valley. The past few games would have been for nothing. Everything I’d done here

would be a waste. And I couldn’t let that happen.

Thinking so much about football meant that I’d been thinking more and more about my dad lately, more than I usually did.

That afternoon after practice, I decided to visit the cemetery where he was buried, something I hadn’t done in a very long time.

I walked among the immaculate grass, through rows and rows of cement headstones symbolizing all that death took from those of us it spared until I found the

familiar headstone.

Bill Berringer. Loving Husband, Father, and Son. 1962-2010.

I didn’t cry this afternoon as I had done every time I’d been here in the past. I sat down just off to the left of the headstone and twirled a blade of grass between my

fingers. I wasn’t sure why I was here, what I needed to gain from this visit. Maybe nothing at all. Maybe I just needed to be with my dad, to remember why he loved

football so much, to remember why I was doing this at all, where this part of me came from.

Maybe I just needed to remember why I loved this game.

“I won’t let you down, Dad,” I promised the wind. “Not this time.”

I woke up with butterflies raging out of control in my stomach the morning that Clinton Central would take on Ash Valley.

My mom tried to get me to eat a big breakfast of bacon, eggs, and potatoes, but I only wanted cereal, my dad’s favorite game-day meal.

“You know your dad would be so proud of you,” my mother said as she watched me eat.

I bit my lower lip. “I know,” I said. “That’s why this game is for him.”

My mom smiled and said nothing more.

I went up to my bedroom to gather my jersey and equipment together for the game. As I flung open my closet door, my eyes landed on an old mustard yellow T-

shirt buried underneath some dirty clothes in the corner. I dug it out and held the soft cloth in my hand. I always wore something underneath my jersey and pads, usually

just an old plain white shirt.

Today, I would wear mustard yellow.

“Nothing else matters but this game today,” Trenton said to me during pregame warm-ups. “Nothing else has ever mattered this much to this team, Whitney. It’s

Clinton Central versus Ash Valley. Panthers versus Gators. You versus Jason. It’s the big-time. Are you ready for this?”

I felt a little bit sick at his words. “Thanks, Trenton.”

He grinned. “Oh, anytime. Come on, let’s run.”

As we took off jogging laps around the field, two big, yellow school buses pulled into the athletic building’s parking lot. Ash Valley--Jason--had arrived.

A few minutes later, Coach Alvarez called the team to attention on our sideline.

“Listen up,” he said. “I know this is a big game. I know Ash Valley beat us last year in a game that belonged to us. But I also know that we must focus on today. We

can’t worry about the past. It cannot be changed. Today, though, today can be ours and it will be. We can do anything we want with today just as long as we leave

yesterday exactly where it belongs.”

I smiled. I’d never heard my coach talk like this, but I understood where he was coming from. He wanted this--needed this--just as much as we did. This meant so

much to all of us.

Football was the present, it was my today, and I had to take what was mine, what I deserved.

And I knew that I would.

“One last thing,” Coach Alvarez said we went to break up the huddle. “I’d like it if Whitney joined Chris Sampson and Todd Blake in the captain’s huddle today.”

My mouth fell open; the captain’s huddle was a big deal at Clinton Central and no one but the captains themselves ever took part in it.

“Whitney, you’ve done amazing things for us since you’ve come here and we wouldn’t be where we are without you. I think is the best way--the only way--to show

you our appreciation for all that you’ve been able to do. I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather have leading this team.”

“Thanks,” I said, truly touched. “And thank you for giving me the chance to show you that I can do this. I know it wasn’t easy for you to take that kind of risk.”

“Oh, but it was,” he replied. “It was very easy. I’m not afraid to chance my reputation for someone who I know deserves it. And I think Mr. Harrington realizes now

what a fool he was not to offer you a position on his team. And if he doesn’t yet, he certainly will by the time the clock hits zero today.”

I nodded and went to join and Chris and Todd for the walk out to midfield to join Ash Valley’s captains and the game’s referees.

Jason stood on the Ash Valley side of the 50-yard line and looked stunned to see me walking towards him, almost as if he thought I was just coming to say hello and

give him a quick kiss before kick-off.

As I reached midfield, I looked over at the Ash Valley sideline. Scott smiled at me and offered a small wave. I nodded back, wishing him nothing but the best. Mr.

Harrington caught my eye as I reached the 50-yard line. I held his gaze, chin up, standing tall, knowing that despite his attempts to ruin my career to save his own, I’d

still won. I’d done it without him, proven to everyone who cared that he was wrong. I was a girl, but I was also a football player, a quarterback, and now, an honorary

captain.

I exhaled and smiled. It was time to roll.

“Captains, shake hands.”

I did as I was told even though I wasn’t a true captain myself. When I shook heads with Jason, I felt as if the entire stadium held its collective breath, waiting to see

what kind of tension existed between us, anxious to discover a clue as to how the drama would play out over the course of sixty football minutes.

“Ash Valley, call it in the air.”

“Tails,” Jason said.

The coin hit the grass and bounced once. The referee bent down to look at it. Unlike the first time I’d played, I wanted us to win the toss. I was ready to play and I

wanted the ball in my hands.

“It is heads. Clinton Central has won.”

“We’ll receive,” Todd said and the three of us hurried back to our sideline.

“This is your time,” Coach Alvarez said as I pulled my helmet on over my head. “Don’t waste it.”

The score at halftime was tied, 17-17. Jason and I had both thrown for two touchdown passes, but I had almost one hundred more passing yards and no turnovers.

Jason had tossed one interception, which led to a Panthers field goal.

“This is good,” Coach Alvarez said in the locker room. “But it isn’t us. It’s not Panthers football and Panthers football is what wins games. If we play the way I know

that we can play in the second half, then we are going to win this game. The referees won’t matter. We won’t let them have an opportunity to take this game from us. It

will already be won.”

I nodded, knowing that it had to be me to step up. Sure, I had more yards in the first half than a lot of high school quarterbacks would record in an entire game, but

my team wasn’t winning. My spectacular stat line meant nothing if we lost.

I realized now what it meant to be apart of something bigger than myself and I was going to do everything I possibly could to make sure that my contribution to this

team was what made the difference.

Ash Valley got the ball to begin the second half. Jason drove his offense downfield and just as it looked like he was going to toss an easy pass into the end zone for a

Gators touchdown, Bob Rolland, our cornerback, jumped up out of nowhere and intercepted the ball.

“PICKED OFF BY CLINTON CENTRAL!” the loudspeaker announcer screamed. “Rolland is taking it down the field! He’s at the fifty...the forty...the thirty...no

one is going to catch him! Clinton Central is about to take the lead! TOUCHDOWN PANTHERS!”

The bench erupted in hugs, cheers, and screams as Coach Alvarez looked positively giddy running up and down the sideline, shouting directions at the special teams

unit preparing to kick the extra point.

And that was how the rest of the day went. I threw two more touchdown passes to give Clinton Central 41 points on the day. Jason, however, threw another

interception and couldn’t get his team into the end zone again as Ash Valley finished the game with the same score they’d taken into halftime.

As the last second ticked off the clock and the celebration spilled out onto the field, I didn’t have time to worry about Jason. I was too ecstatic for my own team. We

had all played the best we could; our hearts were still on the field and they probably always would be. There wasn’t a single crack spoiling the surface of this victory.

The field filled with Clinton Central students and fans celebrating the biggest win the team had posted in the past few years. The beast, the evil empire, Ash Valley

and Coach Harrington, had finally fallen and the Panthers were alone on top.

As Trenton and Craig hoisted me up into the air, I raised my fist in victory. I’d done it.

My Cinderella story, this magical fairy tale, was complete.

Epilogue

Whitney led the Clinton Central Panthers to a 14-2 regular season record. The Panthers cruised past Ash Valley to win the New Jersey state championship and go

on to regionals where they lost to a team from Delaware with a red-hot running game.

Jason had been there every step of the way, making good on his promise to be there for Whitney no matter what. It may have taken two years, a football tryout, a

sexist coach, and a pink Barbie watch to bring them back together, but Jason and Whitney knew that they belonged.

In her senior year, Whitney put up 16 wins for Coach Alvarez: a perfect regular season. It was a season that could only finish the way that it started: with victory. The

Panthers won the national championship that year and so ended Whitney’s magical love affair with high school football.