Fowl Play (Tuft Swallow)

12. Kodi

CHAPTER 12

Lily is at my side the second the first round is underway.

“What the hell was that? Do you have something you want to tell me about Dr. Hottie?”

I’m not about to let my hormones distract me. There’s only one thing that demands my focus in this moment, and it’s filled with beans. “Not now, Lily, the game’s started!”

Within minutes of the air horn sounding, yellow flags are already on the field announcing fouls from Spitz Hollow. Lily’s sputtering at me, but I don’t have the time or the attention to spare for her right now. There will be plenty of opportunity to catch her up on the gossip after we get through this match.

The Spitz Hollow boys are already out for blood on the court. I grit my teeth as all the bros on the red-and-white team clink their IPAs with each other and do shotguns while their half-drunk teammates toss at the 40-yard lines.

As I scan the field to observe my own teammates, I have to admit that I’m pleased with the progress they’ve made. Delilah’s aim has been unreliable since she started tossing for us at the beginning of the season, but she’s already bagged two woodies so far this round. Her partner, Jonah, has even managed to sink a cornhole since the beginning of the match, too. They’ve proven to be a decent addition to the starting lineup.

Geneva, our youngest player, is acting as our switch for this match. And even though she isn’t the sharpest crayon in the box, she makes up for it in enthusiasm. She’s paired up with Brad because his usual partner, Logan, never showed today. Part of me wonders if he’s the source that the Pecker mentioned in their article this morning, and if he’s the reason for the chorus of “boo’s” I heard when the announcer called my name earlier.

It’s fine. They’re already up 6-4 against their pair of Spitzers, who seem to have pregamed a little too hard before toss-off. They’ve already got two fouls between them on the scoreboard.

Spitz Hollow’s unruliness is nothing new, of course, but as I observe the matches, I can’t help but feel like there’s more animosity in the air than usual. It’s then that I notice Zeke is also pacing back and forth between the courts, and he’s shouting out the occasional neg to my players. I glare at him, and as if he can sense it, he looks up and meets my eyes from across the field.

He licks his lips, then gives me a sneer.

Alright, douchebag, I see how it is. While I’d love to pummel these corn nuts into the ground with a 6-0 shutout, I find myself itching for a chance to show this guy just how much better than him I really am.

At cornhole, that is. Better at cornhole.

My lips tingle, and I break eye contact with the rival captain. Once again, that weird flip-flopping sensation I felt in my stomach earlier is back, and I convince myself that I’m just feeling the first-match-of-the-season nerves.

Five minutes later, Geneva and Brad have won their match against Tweedledrunk and Tweedledrunker, and the scoreboard flashes 1-0 for the home team. I pump my fist in the air, jogging over to the two players to give them a pat on the back. Just after I do, the ref blows his whistle on the other side of the field, and calls Jonah and Delilah’s match for Spitz Hollow, in a devastating 22-20 loss when the other team knocked in a hanging chad with a spectacular air-bag.

Fuck. 1-1.

Lily and Callie step up to their boards, along with Mr. Landon and Ginger. The waitress has got her turquoise jersey tied in a knot just under her bra, and her shorts (which were already pretty short to begin with) rolled down at the waist so low that everyone can see her blinding white G-string poking out against her spray tan. The three teams face off at the courts set up around the 30-yard lines, and a few of the Spitz Hollow guys whistle. A couple volunteers run on the field to reset the center boards.

We get our first foul during round two, when Ginger and her partner topple over the line. She got distracted, wagging her ass at a couple of Spitz Hollow guys so vigorously that she tripped over Mr. Landon’s feet and landed right on top of the poor guy. He stumbles a bit in his next throw as his gaze wanders to his teammate, and I race over there to remind him to play with the head on his shoulders, not the one in his pants.

He blushes. Ginger rolls her eyes at me, but I’m not about to feel bad for stepping in. She’s free to flirt and shake what her mama gave her as much as she wants off of the field, but she’s not about to cost us the match because she wants to show off her bits. There are children watching, for Pete’s sake.

The three matches are tight. Unfortunately, Lily is distracted and she misses knocking in a few easy hanging chads at the end of her round, forking over what should have been an easy win. They end up beating us squarely for the round, sending the overall score tumbling to 1-3, visitors.

As our best players face off on the reset 40-yard line, I start biting my nails. A bad habit of mine. D’Shawn and Piper should easily dominate this round, but Tammy and Finn haven’t been playing together long enough for me to be able to predict how they’ll do in a real game.

I shift my weight. I’m feeling my leg start to ache a bit from standing on the hard turf for too long, and I start to pace at the sideline to keep myself occupied. For the first time since they announced me over the loudspeakers, I turn to face the crowd.

As if they were drawn there by a magnet, my eyes find Brian’s, and the nerves in my stomach kick into overdrive. The flip-flops are back, and the urge to bite my nails disappears along with the dull throbbing in my knee. A shy smile lights across his lips, and he gives me a little wave and a thumbs-up, before mouthing something to me I can’t quite catch.

“What?” I mouth back.

He moves his lips again, but I still can’t make out the words. I put my hands palms-up to my sides and shrug, as if to say sorry, I can’t understand you, and to my surprise, he cups his hands around his mouth and shouts.

“You got this, Kodi!”

My heart stutters in my chest, and I know that heads are turning in his direction. Is this part of the act? Or did he know I was getting nervous?

I catch my breath, and both refs blow their whistles. While I was distracted, both of our teams won the third round, bringing the total score to a dead heat.

Three-to-three. A tiebreaker to win the match.

Brian and I lock eyes again, and to my utter surprise, he starts to chant.

“Ko-di, Ko-di, Ko-di!”

The rest of the home crowd joins in, and my stomach leaps into my throat. My heart is pounding against my ribcage, and a swarm of butterflies erupts in the space below my diaphragm. Lily and Callie run up to me, hard seltzers in their hands, to pat me on the back and join in the cheers. Lily hands me a seltzer, too, and suddenly the whole team is surrounding me. Brad is shouting for us all to do a group chug as we go into sudden death.

“Ko-di! Ko-di! Ko-di!”

I grab the proffered can, crack it open, and thrust it into the sky. “Let’s GOOOOO!”

The rest of the team raises their cans (except for Geneva, who raises her Gatorade) and we let out our barbaric yawps, stomping our feet. We all toss our heads back, down our drinks, and slam-dunk the cans into the giant recycling bin that one of the community volunteers stole from Winston. Then the team joins in on the crowd’s chant as they surround me, hyping up for the singles showdown.

My ears ring with the cheers, and the field around me blurs until I can almost imagine that I’m back on the pitcher’s mound, dominating the diamond, throwing out after out as the stadium goes wild.

When I blink my vision clear and head to the 50-yard line for the tie-breaker match, feeling the buzz of the alcohol and the crowd, I raise my chin to face down my opponent.

The horn blares, and I ready my bag to throw.