21. Unnecessary Roughness
twenty-one
Unnecessary Roughness
“ J ess, get up; we’re going to play football.”
I look around groggily. It’s my brother Matt. He’s standing in the doorway with a big grin on his face. I glance out the window at the pouring rain and pull the pillow over my head. “What are you so happy about?”
“Turkey Bowl! We’re going to play football.” Matt gets overly excited and overly competitive about the annual Thanksgiving football game he always plays in with his friends.
"No. You are going to play football,” I say from under the pillow. “I’m going back to sleep.”
The room gets quiet. For a blissful moment, I think he's gone. Then he pulls the pillow off my face. "C'mon Jess. We need one more to make the teams even."
I roll over. "What happened to, ‘ the Turkey Bowl is a sacred male-only ritual, no girls allowed ?’" I'm throwing the exact words he used on me last year back in his face. "Is Kendra playing, and you don't want her to be the only girl?"
"No way. Those guys play rough. I don't want her to get hurt," Matt says.
I raise my eyebrows at him. "But it's okay if your little sister gets crushed?" I wave my wrist in his face. "I just got my cast off last week. Ask Tyler to go."
"Tyler is coming too." Matt sits on the edge of my bed, coaxing, "C’mon Jess. There's someone coming who might get you to change your mind."
I sit up suddenly wide awake with just one thought. Jacob is back. "Okay, I'll come." I try to mask my excitement by yawning and trying to sound tired. "But you owe me."
"Maybe after today, you'll owe me." He grins as he stands up. "You have five minutes."
As soon as we get to the park, I look for Jacob, or at least his car, but he's not here. I’m still looking for him when I take the field.
“Guess we’re on the same team again.”
I turn to face Brad. Matt winks at me like he’s doing me a big favor.
Matt thinks I have a thing for Brad, or maybe he thinks that being with Brad will give me a boost in the social department.
Maybe Mom told him I was having a hard time at school.
Whatever his intentions, the idea of my ex-hotshot jock big brother meddling in my life really annoys me.
The irritation gets worse as the game progresses. When Matt jumps up to make a spectacular catch just a few feet from me, I plow into him. The grass is slick, so we both go down. The ball slips from his grasp, and I pounce on it. I come up muddy but triumphant; the football raised above my head.
“Unnecessary roughness!” Matt sputters through a mouthful of grass and mud. “We’re playing touch, not tackle.”
“Really dude? Just because you got owned by your little sister.” Brad stands over Matt and shakes his head. He reaches for my hand. I'm so pumped by my unexpected success that I let Brad pull me up and then give him an enthusiastic high five.
“I believe it's our ball," I announce.
“You’re going down, little sis,” Matt growls.
“Bring it,” I shout back.
The next hour is a blur of rain, mud, pain, and unabashed sibling rivalry.
At one point our baby brother Tyler actually gets between me and Matt and tells us we need to chill out before someone gets hurt.
He’s right, and the person who is going to get hurt will probably be me, but the game has brought out a wild competitive streak that I forgot I had.
Matt and I have always been competitive, even if we’ve always had each other’s backs.
He was the only one in the family I dared call after the party.
I didn’t tell him what really happened. I let him think I was drunk.
He gave me a hard time on the way home about drinking, but he covered for me with Mom and Dad.
I forgot how much I missed our relationship.
He's barely noticed me since Kendra came into his life.
That's probably why a pang of jealousy hits me when she yells at him across the field. "Matt! What the heck! We're supposed to be at my grandma's in twenty minutes!"
"Sorry." He's covered in mud and grass stains, and nowhere near ready for a Thanksgiving dinner with Kendra's family.
He looks at her with downcast eyes, like the whipped dog he is.
"Gotta bail," he says to the rest of us.
He's splitting Thanksgiving between our family and Kendra’s family this year.
"That makes the teams uneven," Tyler grumbles. He’s obviously annoyed that Matt is deserting us too.
"I can take his spot." The voice from somewhere down the field makes my heart leap.
I spin around to face him. "Jacob!" I have to stop myself from running into his arms. I'm at least as muddy as Matt, we have an audience, and I'm not sure how Jacob would react to me throwing myself at him.
"You're too late, Soulja Boy. We're done here." Brad glowers at Jacob. Testosterone-laden tension floods the air between them.
Tyler steps up. "We have time for at least one more play. It's all tied up. We can’t quit now. You aren't afraid of losing, are you?"
Brad takes the bait. "Not likely, kid.” He huffs. “Whatever. One more play."
"You're back," I say, moving closer to Jacob. The game is forgotten in the wake of his lazy grin and big brown eyes.
"Yeah. We flew in this morning. Your mom said if I got back in time I could come to dinner, so I came straight from base. I ran into Kendra at your house, and she asked me to help her find you guys." He glances at his watch. "Wasn't dinner supposed to start fifteen minutes ago?"
I shrug. "I guess we got a little caught up in the game."
He brushes a piece of grass out of my hair. "I can see that."
"Jess, stop consorting with the enemy. We have some strategizing to do," Brad barks at me.
I roll my eyes to show Jacob how I feel about Brad. Then I move into the huddle with the rest of our team. Brad turns to me. “It’s all up to you, Jess.”
“I've got this.” Pride wells up inside my chest. Brad is uber competitive. It makes me feel good that he’s leaving the last play up to me.
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and leans in close. “I need you to pretend to get hurt.”
“What?” I stare at him as the wind goes out of my sails.
“It’s the perfect distraction. GI Joe over there won't keep going if he thinks you’re hurt. You fall to the ground and start crying. I’ll run the ball in.”
I look around at the circle of Brad’s friends surrounding us. They’re all nodding like it’s a brilliant idea.
I shake my head. “I don’t think I can convince Jacob I’m–”
“We’ve all seen what an overdramatic little actress you can be when you want to be.” This comes from one of Brad’s friends. The smirk in his eyes is the same expression he wore at the party.
My body goes cold. Suddenly, I feel duped by all of this. I was so caught up in the game that I didn’t realize everyone was laughing at me. I’m humiliated and angry and wet and sore, and I just want to leave the game and go home.
Brad’s voice in my ear is placating. “It just needs to be a little slip, a fall on your bad wrist right in front of him. Extra points if you bring him down."
I turn and lock eyes with Brad. “I can do that.”
“Good girl.” He runs his hand down my back and smacks my butt as we break. I turn to tell him where to get off, but he's already trotting to the other side of the field. I'm seething, but I let it go.
For now.
We move into a play we've run a few times today. Brad fades back with the ball. The rest of the guys block for him. I pretend to look for an opening, like I’m going to run to catch a pass.
Tyler shadows my every move. I dart back and forth, just out of his reach.
Jacob shakes off his block and heads for Brad, going for the sack.
Brad catches my eye, and I know it’s time to make my move. I run for the goal, glancing over my shoulder first at Jacob and then at Brad. Brad cocks back his arm like he’s going to throw me a pass. Jacob looks back at me. Right on cue, I pretend to slip and let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Jacob switches direction. “Jess!”
I’m on my feet before anyone knows what’s happening.
Brad, oblivious to the world, plows toward the goal.
I dart in front of him and dive for his legs.
He doesn’t see me until it’s too late. He crashes into me.
We’re a bundle of flailing arms and legs.
The football breaks loose and bounces down the field.
“Get it, Jacob!” I yell.
Jacob stares at me in confusion. My baby brother is quicker. Tyler scoops up the ball and runs into the end zone to score the winning touchdown.
We’ve lost, I'm pretty sure I'm actually hurt, and I’m tangled up with an incredibly pissed-off Brad. He looms over me. Hot, angry breath fills my ear. “What the hell was that?”
I extricate myself from him and roll free. I stand, toss my head in his direction, and do my best not to show the pain that sparks through every inch of my body.
“Maybe you forgot. The score doesn’t count if you cheat.”