Chapter 20
One of the requirements in the Settler household was that everyone had to be present and accounted for at football games.
No ifs, ands, or buts about it—if you weren’t on the field, your butt was on a bleacher.
The same held true for other seasons, of course.
Since Landon played almost every sport Brentwood had to offer, a Friday night never went by without the Settlers at some sort of game.
And tonight was no exception.
The game went by with a little more resistance than last week’s, the Ravens fighting as hard as they could against the Bobcats.
In the end, though, it didn’t amount to much—we still had a good lead.
It didn’t stop Mom and Dad from their usual scolding.
Every time Landon made a bad pass or leaned too far into his throw, they were on him, relentless.
I was just thankful they weren’t yelling at any other players yet.
I was also thankful I’d never really gotten into sports, and that they never pushed them on me. I couldn’t really imagine being in Landon’s shoes, knowing that they were always looking at him with their judging eyes.
Jaden sat on the other side of me, elbows on his knees. “Whenever I watch football, I realize how happy I am that I don’t play,” he said, reaching up to rub his head. “I’d be snapped like a twig by the size of some of those guys.”
“You’re perfect for basketball, Jaden,” Mom insisted, glancing over with a smile. “It’s exciting that you’ll be on the varsity team with Landon.”
“Definitely an honor.”
I fought the urge to groan.
When I focused on the field, Landon was in position for the beginning of the play, time suspended for a moment as every player leaned forward. His royal blue jersey—number 10—was smeared with grass stains that Mom would have me fight to get out later.
Landon called the play, and everyone moved into action.
I watched him pull back with the ball and search for an opening, standing on the balls of his feet.
A Raven had slid between the defenses, slamming into Landon’s midsection with a clashing sound I could hear from here, like two boulders colliding.
“Come on, Landon!” Mom shouted, surprise springing her to her feet. Dad managed to ease her into her seat, but it began the cycle once again, berating Landon for not making the pass, for not paying more attention, for not running when he had the chance.
“He’s got such a bad habit of hanging onto the ball too long,” Mom said now, going back to that conversation. “He spends too much time thinking about a decision before he makes it. This is football, not cricket.”
“He needs to be careful, too,” Dad added, frowning. “One bad tackle, and the team’s in a world of hurt. He can’t get injured, not a week before homecoming.”
Sometimes I was surprised Mom didn’t record the plays for them to review after the fact, like Nathan Tulane’s mom did.
But it was also something that required no effort from me.
There’d been game nights that’d gone by where I never even spoke a word.
I was there for looks, to keep up appearances, not for actual conversation.
Mom reached over and pressed her palm against my skirt. I wore a heavy corduroy one tonight, and even with my jacket zipped up, I still shivered. “You okay?”
“Hmm?” I straightened from my slouched posture, blinking at the field. “Oh. Yeah.”
Mom wasn’t easily brushed off, eyeing me. “You know, you’ve been much quieter lately.”
Dad didn’t turn his head, but he did lean sideways a little to make it known he was talking to us. “Is it about yesterday?”
Immediately, I stiffened. After telling Principal Oliphant what happened, I’d been right—she had called my mom and Mrs. Davies. When recounting the story, Morgan completely left Hudson out of it, so I followed her lead.
Hudson and that girl. Churchill. I assumed it was a last name, but I didn’t recognize it.
“I still can’t believe kids like that go to Brentwood,” Mom muttered in a way that was clear she wasn’t trying to keep her voice down.
“It’s a public school, Mom. Anyone can go here.”
“But it’s a good public school.” She scrunched her nose. “It’s not like Chesterville or Jefferson.”
A parent from behind us leaned forward and pressed her hand on Mom’s shoulder. I couldn’t tell for sure, but I thought it was one of the cheerleaders’ moms. “I completely agree with you, Naomi. Kids like that who bully and cause trouble don’t belong with kids who are actually there to learn.”
A man who sat beside her folded his arms with a huff. “I still can’t believe you didn’t expel that Bishop kid when he picked a fight all those years ago. Cut your boy’s face up and everything. You should’ve pressed charges.”
Mom only hummed at that, no longer interested in the conversation. She made a show of shaking her coffee tumbler, focusing on the field.
I fisted my hands together in my lap, wishing everyone would mind their own business. But what that man said did spark something in my mind, and Wes’s words rang like a warning bell in my ear. Maybe it’s revenge for what your brother did to him freshman year.
Even now, it didn’t make sense. Landon was the one with the bruised face—why would Hudson need revenge?
Dad let out a grumbled sigh then, tuning back in to the game as well. “Oh, come on! Let’s be faster on our feet, Bobcats!”
Even though everyone’s attention was successfully reeled back in by the game, the conversation left a bad taste in my mouth. Maybe they’re not all bad kids, I wanted to argue, and had to bite down on my tongue to stop myself. Maybe you’re not giving them enough chances.
I would’ve gotten weird looks for sure.
“I can’t believe it’s a week before homecoming,” Jaden said, picking up the topic mentioned by Dad. “Have you, uh… Well, have you gotten a dress yet?”
From the corner of my eye, I could see Mom swivel a little more toward us, and I could see Jaden lean in. I refused to fully look at either of them. “Yeah, I have.”
“What color is it?”
I squeezed my mittens in my lap. “Why?”
Mom reached over and patted my knee. “Gemma.”
I fought an inward groan, finally looking at Jaden. The tips of his cheeks were pink. “It’s burgundy.”
Once more, Landon called the play, and the Bobcats shot forward into their designated spots.
I watched as Connor pushed into the formation of the Ravens’ defense, lingering near the thirty-yard line with his hands up.
Landon drew his arm back to throw the ball, but before it could leave his hand, a Raven broke through the offensive line and slammed into Landon’s midsection, taking him down. “I think I have burgundy ties.”
The collective groan from the Bobcats’ bleachers was nearly drowned out by my parents’ reactions. “Come on, Landon!” Mom shouted, more angry than encouraging.
Dad grumbled along with her. “Our blockers need to be doing a better job, too. Come on, Bobcats, let’s go!”
For me, it was hard to breathe until Landon managed to get to his feet, and I watched him shake his hand as if he landed on it wrong.
It seemed that we each had our own things to worry about: Mom worried about how Landon performed, Dad worried about how the team performed, and I worried about whether or not Landon got injured.
“So, any plans after the game?” Jaden asked, rubbing his palms over his knees. “I’m probably going to go home and sleep. It’s felt like the longest week ever, hasn’t it?”
“Same here,” I replied, thinking of everything that’d happened in the past week.
Monday, I’d gone to Hudson’s house and nearly got hit by a car.
Wednesday night, I went to the bonfire at Tee’s house, running my thumb across Hudson’s mouth.
Yesterday, I nearly got shoved in a locker.
And tonight…tonight my plans didn’t even seem real. “Such a long week.”
The clock ticked down slowly, and despite the Bobcats not making it to the final touchdown, the game ended with Brentwood winning by fourteen, securing the hope for a no-loss season. Mom and Dad packed up their portable folding bleacher seats, talking with the other parents as they did so.
Jaden lingered at my side, leaning closer. “You know,” he whispered, his voice nearly taken out by the post-game chatter. “Morgan told me what happened yesterday. About Hudson.”
I stiffened, glancing over, but my parents were both absorbed in conversation. “Jaden, shh.”
“Sorry, sorry.” He held his hands up innocently. He hunched his shoulders, ducking his ears closer to his collar. “I was just going to say…it sounds like you were right. About not judging someone if you don’t know them.”
I stared at Jaden for a long moment because his words were exactly the ones I’d wanted to hear from someone.
Yesterday, I’d been wanting Morgan to agree with me so badly, wanted somebody to agree, and even though Jaden didn’t know the whole depth to Hudson, he agreed.
The relief I felt was strange, mostly because I couldn’t figure out why I was relieved.
Because someone else had faith in Hudson? Because someone believed me?
Because I had an opinion and someone didn’t brush it off?
Whatever it was, it had the tension in my shoulders seeping away as I looked at Jaden.
“Jaden,” Mom said as she turned toward us.
She put her hand on my shoulder, fingers curling in.
That should’ve been my sign that I wouldn’t like what she said next, but I was still too caught up in Jaden agreeing with me.
“Since we brought up homecoming earlier, it has me curious. Do you have a date to the homecoming dance yet?” She gave a laugh that was much louder than it needed to be, drawing the attention of some people.
“I got to thinking, and I wondered if you hadn’t asked Gemma yet because of our ‘no dating’ rule.
But you do know you’ve got special permission, right? ”