[7:38AM] Anna: Good luck tonight! :) I'll do my best to keep you all going!

[8:30AM] Me: Haha, thanks!

[8:30AM] Me: I just saw this, fyi. Just woke up.

[8:30AM] Anna: hehe it's fine! :) I always have my phone with me

[8:32AM] Me: I can't really say the same, haha.

[8:33AM] Anna: I knooooow you're so bad at textinggggg

[8:33AM] Me: Yea rub it in a little more, why don't you?

[8:33AM] Anna: ;) I'm kiddingg!

[8:34AM] Me: The pain is still real, Anna. The pain is still real.

[8:34AM] Anna: Oh, shush

[8:34AM] Anna: And don't joke about getting hurt, mister! :( You have a VERY important game to play tonight!

[8:36AM] Me: Define play…

[8:37AM] Anna: What do you mean?

[8:37AM] Me: There's no way I'm not going to be riding the pine again.

[8:37AM] Anna: Don't say that! :( You're still on the team!

[8:39AM] Me: Yea, I guess.

[8:40AM] Anna: So cheer up, grumpypants! :3

[8:41AM] Me: Isn't that your job? Haha

[8:41AM] Anna: Technicalities - a cheerleader's worst nightmare

[8:41AM] Anna: It's a good thing I'll be cheering for you, though! That'll make it so much better.

—

[9:15AM] Anna: I'm rooting for you, Micah! :) You're the best ever! Go kick some Techu-LAME butt! :D

—

[12:43PM] Anna: I have to go get ready now, so this is my last text before the game

[12:45PM] Anna: Don't worry too much about not playing, Micah. You're on the varsity team as a freshman, and that means something. There are just older guys that have more time on the field and more experience, that doesn't mean you're not a good player. I'm going to cheer extra loud for you, okay? :) Be listening for me! You're an important part of the team, don't ever forget that.

[12:45PM] Anna: I'll see you later. :) 3

Man, she wasn't kidding about cheering extra loud. "Come on, Knights! Kick their teeth in!" Not what I would have gone with, but I wasn't the one with the pom poms. I didn't even have my helmet on. I was standing in a crowd of defensive linemen with no hope of seeing what was going on on the field, my helmet resting between my feet and my gloved hands tucked deep into my pads.

There was a roar from the crowd, which I took to mean we had just gotten a first down. Then our kicker pushed past me in a rush to get to the field, and it hit me that we just scored again. That was two possessions in a row that had given us points, and that meant we were leading by two now. Six minutes to keep Techuwain from getting any points, and Aarondale High would be on its way to its first ever State Championship. Whoop-dee-doo; good thing I had any say in whether or not we could do it. Sometimes I make myself upset with how dry my sarcasm about this whole football thing is.

The defensive linemen pulled on their helmets and lumbered onto the field, meaning the kickoff had already happened and it was time to try and shut Techuwain down. I picked up my helmet and meandered my way towards the sideline, hoping to catch at least one play of this game to have something to talk to Mom about later. She had a double shift at the hospital, meaning she wouldn't be home until tomorrow morning, so obviously she was going to want to know how the game went. And I hadn't exactly been the most talkative son these past few days anyways; it might be nice to interact like a family for once.

The Techuwain quarterback hard-counted and snapped, handing the ball off to the halfback. The kid took off on an off-tackle run, all six feet of his power back frame barreling through the gap between Cap and Tyreese, our starting corner. Tyreese was locked up with the Techuwain wide-out, but with a drop of his shoulder and two quick steps he slipped under his block and set to pop the halfback square in the chest. The hit was massive, and both runner and tackler were sent sprawling in opposite directions. The whole crowd groaned in sympathy; even the cheerleaders stopped squawking for a moment. The loudspeaker boomed out: "Tackle made by number twenty-three, Tyreese Goodman."

Tyreese didn't move. Once people realized this, a hush started to fall over the crowd. Coach and the trainer jogged onto the field to check on him, and people started murmuring. I could barely hear it over the pounding of my own heart in my ears. Tyreese never got injured. If anything happened to Tyreese, I was next in line. That had always been the plan, but it had never come to be. If he wasn't ready for the next snap, I would be taking it. Coach shook his head. Oh…no…

Tyreese was hauled to his feet and made his way gingerly to the sidelines. "Abressian!?" I nearly dropped my helmet. Coach strode over to me and tucked his clipboard under his arm. "Why's your helmet off? The injury timeout's almost over!"

"Coach?" I fumbled with my chinstrap as I squeezed my head into the padded casing.

"Goodman's out! You're taking snaps until he's back up walking again!" I snapped on my chinstrap as Coach slapped me in the ear-hole. "You have one job to do until Goodman's back, and that is get on their wide man like plaid on a shirt; do you hear me?" He pulled my face mask up to his chin, so his teeth gnashed right in my eyes. "He's big and fast, and I need you to cover him like your life depended on it. We have four downs to close out this game, Rookie, you need to be on!" He slapped me on top of the head. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Coach!" He threw me onto the field by my face mask, which thoroughly messed up the way my helmet was sitting on my head. I tried to fix the fit of it as I jogged towards the rest of the defensive unit. The loudspeaker announced my arrival: "Checking in for Aarondale; number thirty-eight, Micah Ab…Abra-shin." It figures they wouldn't get my name right.

I heard a single, shrill yell from somewhere off behind our bench. "Go, Micah! Whoooo!" Had to be Anna. There was a smattering of half-hearted clapping from a few of the parents in the stands, but nobody was going nuts like Anna was. The band started playing again, and even she ended up getting lost in the brass; apparently it was time for business.

I made it up to the defensive huddle, and what hit me was the sudden realization that I was very much not ready to be here yet. The tackles were panting, hands on hips, jerseys covered in grass marks and bloodstains, arms glistening with sweat. The ends were some of the same, looming mounds of mass that could easily turn me into a pancake. Cap and the other two linebackers looked like superheroes, broad-shouldered and muscular even through their pads. The two safeties and the other corner watched me arrive with the slightest look of disdain on their faces, like they could tell how uncomfortable I was with my helmet on and would actually prefer playing with ten men.

Cap clapped his massive hands together, and we all looked over to him. "Alright, kids," he said loudly, above the noise, "Coach says it's bedtime for these guys, and I'm the Sandman; let's put 'em down!" My brain rifled through the Rolodex of shorthand lingo and picked out "bed time" and "sandman"—a blitz from Cap, the blind side outside linebacker. He called for us to break, and the referee blew his whistle to start the play clock. As I turned to start jogging out to the wide left, Cap grabbed me by the pads. "Rookie!" he shouted, smacking me in the helmet, "hey!" I looked him up and down; he was an unreal specimen of a human being. With a helmet on, he'd be a dead ringer for J.J. Watt if not for the braces on his knees. He bent down over me, so our face masks touched, and spouted commands into my face. "Your receiver's gonna be good, but you're gonna hang around on him like a bad cold, you hear me?" I nodded, and he clapped me on either side of the head. "Just keep him covered until I break into the pocket. You got this, kid! Come on, Rookie!" He pushed me in the chest, lifting me into the air and tossing me backwards. He smacked himself in the helmet, continuing to roar and pump himself up. I took up my spot on the line of scrimmage, and Cap took up his place behind the defensive end, shouting out coverage instructions like we were just running normal pass defense.

My receiver arrived opposite me, and I got to see first hand why Coach had said so many times it would be important for us to keep him quiet. Number fifteen, Burress Jordan; six-feet-three-inches of lean muscle, long arms, and an enormous vertical. He had caught two touchdowns already tonight, so obviously he didn't feel like letting us keep him quiet. He laughed out loud as he lined up across from me. "Are you niggas for real?" He looked to his right, where the rest of my team was standing on the sidelines. "Y'all are gonna put little white boy on me, here?" He clapped his hands. "I am insulted, nigga! Little white boy ain't got shit on me!"

The play clock was winding down. Jordan looked across the line of scrimmage. "You think you hot shit, little white boy? Tryin'a play like you's a nigga too?" I took two deep breaths and bit down on my mouth guard. Jordan shook his head, staring straight into my soul. "I'm all over you, little white boy. All over you! You ain't even gon' breathe!" He set himself to run. "I'm gone, nigga! You cain't e'n see my dust, little white boy!"

"SET, HUT!" The snap. Jordan took off, and my brain tuned off everything but the defensive tactic after defensive tactic that had been bashed into my head over the years. I turned and put a body on his Go route, blocking his path and trying to slow him down. He swam over me and cut inside on a Post, and I spun and sprinted after him. They would be attacking my side, seeing as I had just gotten into the game. I had to get back on him; that was the only thing Coach had told me to do. I saw Jordan's hands start to rise up to his chest, ready to catch, and I spun my head to watch the incoming pass.

There was no ball incoming.

Instead, there was a massive pile of bodies at the line of scrimmage, and the crowd was going wild. From the pile, a single figure emerged, smacking his helmet and high-stepping away from the group of players that was beginning to rise around him. The numbers stretched across his massive upper back read proud in gold; fifty-three. Cap. He was hollering like a madman, running over to the purple "A" at midfield. He got there, stopped, and thrust his fist into the air with a mighty roar. The band started playing the Aarondale fight song as Cap was surrounded by the other linemen and they celebrated as a group quickly before making their way back to scrimmage. That must have been it.

The play clock was running, though, and we had to get back to business. We had to stop two more downs, and I still had to cover Jordan. The big receiver lined up with me again, still running his mouth and cursing at me. "SET, HUT!" He dropped a shoulder and turned into a Slant route, to which I just tried my best to keep up and kept my eye on his helmet. It turned, I turned mine, and I saw the ball flying in towards him. Suddenly, I was pitched forward into the ground, my face mask filling up with dirt. Whistles blew, the crowd jeered, and I was picked up by the back of my jersey.

"Nice coverage, Rookie!" Cap smacked me hard on the butt. "He's gonna get PI for that!"

Moments later, the stadium announcer confirmed offensive pass interference on number fifteen. The referee moved the ball back ten yards, and Techuwain was now left with third-and-twenty-three. "Abressian!" I turned to look at Coach, who had just called my name. Tyreese was back up, jogging onto the field. Coach waved frantically. "Sub out! Sub out!" I sprinted off the field as quickly as I could to avoid a penalty, and my world started to slowly reconstruct itself from the bare-bones of football tactics it had been reduced to not moments before.

Coach pounded on the top of my helmet. "Good work, kid, that was good football," he said. Tyreese's re-entry was announced over the loudspeaker. A water boy, one of the middle school kids, appeared next to me and handed me a towel and a squirt bottle. I looked at him, confused for a moment, before taking the items from him slowly; I'd never needed the water boy before. Coach smacked my pads. "Grab some water, Rookie, be ready to go back in if they choose to punt."

"Huh?" I panted, swallowing a mouthful of water.

Coach watched as Techuwain tried to punch their fullback past our nose tackle, getting tackled after a few yards and bringing up fourth down. Coach gave me a push back towards the field. "Go, kid! Goodman can't receive this punt, you have to take it!" The special teams unit began their assembly on the field, and Tyreese jogged off the field with the rest of the defense. I tossed the water bottle and towel and jogged out to where the returner would take the catch. I had to keep the ball in play; there was still enough time for Techuwain to have another drive, I had to try and get us as far away from our end zone as possible.

The ball shot out to the punter, and he launched it into the air. As it flew high into the air, I lost sight of it as it passed through the lights and into the dark, night sky. Taking a few steps back, I started to panic a bit. Shoot. I can't see it. What if I drop it? Should I call fair catch? Then, movement. The ball broke back through the lights on a beeline for my forehead.

I threw up my hands, and cushioned the ball into my chest, holding onto it for dear life. For the first time since the snap, I looked down the field. There were maybe ten bodies barreling towards me at extremely high speed. Before I could react, a Techuwain player wrapped his arms around my chest and drove me into the ground; it felt like my soul was vacating my body. The whistle blew, and the pile of bodies on top of me dissipated. One of my teammates helped me to my feet, and we made our way off the field together as the offense moved in to finish off the game. Coach didn't say anything, but since I didn't turn the ball over, I assumed he was happy with that last play. Another water boy brought me a drink and I unstrapped my helmet and slipped it off my head.

"Rookie!" Cap's voice accompanied a shove in my shoulder. He had his helmet off too, his sandy blonde crew cut dripping with sweat and water he had just poured on it. "Thanks, buddy!"

I raised an eyebrow. "For…?"

He put an arm around my shoulder and turned me to face the stands. "For helping me out!" He stepped up onto a bench and raised his arms in the air; the crowd cheered loudly. He stepped down from the bench and put his arm around me again. "That last sack I had was a single-season record, and you helped me get it!" He started walking slowly down the sideline, and I followed. "If you hadn't covered their target so well, I wouldn't have had time to get to the quarter back."

"Oh, uh…" I paused as we passed by a group of cheerleaders, whom I scanned to see if I could find Anna. When she was nowhere to be seen, I returned my attention to Cap. "Uh, thanks, Cap," I said, "I was just trying to keep up."

Cap thumped me on the chest. "You did more than that, bud; you shut him right up!" He stopped moving, turning us again to face the crowd. He raised his hand, and I tried to track his gaze up through the people. Barely visible between two massive fans was a thing girl with white-blonde hair, sitting timidly near the edge of the stands. Cap waved, and Elsa smiled slightly. She raised her hand, revealing a small, gold supporter's flag with a purple-and-green "A" on it. She wiggled it back and forth almost sarcastically, smirking coyly. Cap laughed, putting a hand to his face and blowing a kiss. Elsa returned the gesture.

Then Cap raised my hand into the air too, like he was announcing me as the winner of a prize fight. Elsa narrowed her eyes, seemingly confused. Cap pointed to me, and I waved up sheepishly. Elsa seemed to finally recognize me, and she smiled back and waved. It was the biggest smile I had ever seen her give me, and I felt my face grow a bit warm. Cap gave me a little push, and the two of us headed back towards the rest of the team.

The offense drove down through three sets of downs, running the clock down to twelve seconds before kicking a field goal. That put Aarondale up by five with just enough time for Techuwain to Hail Mary a pass downfield and hope for the best. The kickoff was caught for a touchback, and Techuwain launched two long passes that ended up coming to naught. The final buzzer sounded, and my teammates erupted into cheers; Aarondale was headed for the finals. The loudspeaker blared out one final message:

"Final score; Techuwain Aztecs twenty-one, Aarondale Knights twenty-six. Congratulations to the Knights as they advance to the county finals, which will be held in Baker's Bay next Saturday.—" there was a cheer from the crowd "—And, a special congratulations to senior captain, Dylan Lynch, whose three sacks in tonight's game helped him set a new record for single-season sacks. Let's hear it for Dylan!"

Everyone started cheering, and Cap raised his arms and started waving. I smiled, clapping a couple times. The sheer number of people that were flooding down from the stands was astonishing. Looking over them quickly, I made a decision to avoid later crowdedness and head down to the showers now. I slipped past some parents coming down to congratulate their kids and made for the locker room.

"Micah! Micah, wait!" Anna's voice reverberated against the concrete of the tunnel. She was jogging towards me, her pom poms rustling as she approached. She was in her cheer uniform—Of course she's in her cheer uniform, stupid; she was just cheering your game…—which consisted of a tiny white skirt and a skintight purple-and-green shirt with a gold "A" in the center of her chest. As she bounced to a stop, I hurriedly closed my gaping mouth and blinked my eyes to stop them from staring at the outline of her figure, as her outfit left little to the imagination. "Good job tonight!" She wrapped me in a hug, but it was short lived. "Pew, you stink," she said letting me go and stepping back with an adorably sour look on her face, "go take a shower!" She turned and started skipping back down the hallway. "I'll be waiting for you!"

I watched her dance away, marveling at how much of a spectator I had just been to that interaction. Just as she was about to exit the tunnel to the locker room, though, Anna turned back to face me. "I told you you were important!" The smile on her face was enormous. "I told you!" She spun and scampered away.

I shook my head, a smile creeping across my face. Had I actually done that well? I felt like all I did was run around for six seconds and get tackled once; why should that matter so much?

But…Anna was happy with it.

That had to count for something…

Anna was waiting for me when I left the locker room. She had put on a fleece jacket, and she was standing with her arms crossed over her chest. She looks cold. Not surprising; that cheer uniform was practically nothing. I pulled my letterman coat out from my bag as I approached.

"Hey, are you cold?" I asked, holding out the coat.

"Oh," she said, surprisedly, "thanks, Micah." I draped the jacket over her shoulders, and she wriggled to put her arms through the sleeves. "These uniforms we have are so not made for what they ask us to wear them in."

"I could probably imagine," I said, putting my glasses on.

Anna looked over my shoulder, and I saw Elsa approaching from across the parking lot. "Hey, sis! Like my new coat?" I laughed.

Elsa smiled. "Very cute; it goes well with the skirt."

"Hey, Elsa," I said, shades of déjà vu from a week ago popping into my brain. I quickly added something on to try and preserve the mood. "I saw you in the stands, earlier. I waved; I don't know if you…uh…saw me, but, I mean, I waved to you, and…uh…I think you waved back? So maybe you saw, I don't—"

My horrifically awkward run-on thought was cut short when Elsa wrapped her arms around me quickly. My entire body locked up in complete shock. "You did well tonight, Micah," she said, patting me on the back, "Dylan is really happy that he was able to break the record, and he keeps saying that it was thanks to you." She let go of me, stepping back and smiling. "And, yes, don't worry, I saw you." She turned to Anna. "I'll be at the car, sis. See you in a minute."

"Bye, Elsa!" The older girl strode away, leaving me alone with Anna. Anna leaned around me, watching her sister leave, a big open-mouthed smile stretched across her face. "Um, okay…" she put a hand up to her face. "Micah, your face is completely red!"

"Is it?" I adjusted my glasses, even though they were still perfectly aligned from when I had put them on not a moment ago. My cheeks felt like they were on fire.

Anna giggled. "Has she ever even accidentally bumped into you before?" I shook my head slowly. Anna put her hand on her cheek, her fingers barely poking past the cuff of my letterman jacket. "Wow; she must really be happy! Let's hope Dylan doesn't hear about this!"

"Wh-what? Why?" What would happen if Cap heard about this? Was he that kind of guy to freak out about that sort of thing? I mean, he didn't strike me as that sort of guy, but you never really know with those sorts of people until you push their buttons, and—

"Micah! Calm down, I was just kidding." Anna giggled behind the sleeve of my coat. "I can see your brain flying at a thousand miles per hour; there's practically steam coming out of your ears." She stepped over towards me and gave me a hug too. "Loosen up a bit, okay? Dylan's not going to beat you up because Elsa gave you a hug."

I sure wish I could loosen up with you this close to me.

Anna held on to me for a few dozen seconds before rubbing my back and stepping away. "Okay, Micah," she said, starting to withdraw her arms from the sleeves of my jacket, "I gotta get going."

"No, no," I blurted messily. She stopped what she was doing, looking at me with a cocked head. I wheezed a weak laugh. "You, uh…you should keep that on. It's still cold, and I don't think Ca—er, Dylan will be done for a bit; y'know, the record-holder's gotta do…record…stuff…" It was hard to breathe. "I…don't know." I waved my hands frantically. "Just…you…Just keep the jacket on. I can get it back on Monday."

Anna smiled. "You're so funny, Micah." She slid up to me quickly.

My mind emptied itself of any and all semblance of consciousness as Anna's ruby red lips came to rest gently on my cheek.

"You're the best." She stepped past me slowly. "Thanks for letting me borrow your jacket." I felt the whisper of her fingers on my sleeve. "I'll text you tomorrow; I might need help on the history homework."

I couldn't even begin to comprehend the forming of words. I just stood in the parking lot in a daze.

Good Lord…I must have played like a champion.