Chapter 40 #4
Quinntessa looked away but complied and played with my hair. “I just don’t think this town will ever take me seriously enough. It’s all I’ve ever known, and it’s the only thing that makes sense to me. Not getting at least a chance would make everything so . . .”
I sat up and adjusted to face her. She looked upset. I didn’t blame her when I’d heard the boys call her all sorts of disgusting names for trying out for the team. Placing a pillow behind her and myself, I gave her my full attention.
“Difficult,” Quinntessa finished, her eyes glossy.
“Tell me more,” I insisted.
“Quinn—” She sighed.
“Tell me more about how it feels when you play,” I tilted my head and gently touched her knee. “Is football really what you need in your life, or are you just?—”
“Yes,” Quinntessa interrupted me. “Football is the one thing in my life that stays the same. It’s my channel. My friend. My enemy. My . . . I don’t have many cool things about me, and this is something I know I can do. I know I’m good.”
A tear escapes Quinntessa’s cheek, but she quickly wiped it away.
“It frustrates me so much when people assume I’m not good enough just because of my body. I’m not skinny like the cheerleaders. I’m built like the boys. I’m athletic, but not how they see it.”
Built like the boys my fucking ass. She wasn’t built like any boys. She was beautiful. Her thighs were all muscle, and her hips had proven to be of good use on the field. I’d seen the way she ran, and to carry herself at that speed with all that muscle was more than impressive.
I hadn’t known her long. I liked to think this was how I learned about her more traditionally, but I hated learning how she thought of herself. It made me feel disgusted with Coven, with Styxton High, to see her so distraught.
“You’re beautiful,” I breathed. “Anyone who says otherwise is blind.”
“Thanks, but—” Quinntessa blushed, looking away from me with a sigh. “People think I’m ruining lives. Doesn’t matter if you think I’m pretty.”
It should. She felt something when I complimented her, and it should mean something to her. I wanted to mean something to her so she could believe someone other than those dumbass, insecure little boys.
“Maybe you need to break a few rules and go out there,” I suggested. “What are they going to do if you go out there and actually do it?”
“I tried.” She pouted.
“No?”
“They won’t give me a shot without being a guy.” She frustratingly blew air through her nose. “I have to go against my morals and hope Coach Steel gets fired to even have a shot.”
“Or you could pretend to be a boy?” I snorted.
“What?” Quinntessa frowned, already shaking her head.
“Why don’t you just be one then?” I smirked, thinking about how funny it would be to shock the boys. They were too stupid to be that observant anyway. “You don’t always have to be what everyone wants, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t just do what you got to do to prove them wrong.”
Like taking a blood oath and killing a guy all because I wanted my grandfather’s approval, but at the same time not killing you because I wanted your attention.
“That makes no sense.” Her freckles scrunched.
“Yes, it does. Use that big brain of yours, because the boys don’t.” I sat up straighter and resisted the urge to fix her hair as it fell in front of her face. “You’re brilliant, Sally. I think so, and you apparently know so . . .”
I smirked as she blushed at my teasing. I loved when she rolled her eyes and tried to pretend she was annoyed with me. It was weird to think just a few weeks ago, I couldn’t look her in the eyes and see everything I did now, yet I could feel it so deeply.
“I believe in supporting women and humiliating men who deserve it. So, let’s pretend you’re not a girl and make them think you’re a boy,” I suggested.
It would be a good distraction from everything around us. I could spend more time with her, and she could be happy before I had to put an end to our little . . . daydream.
“That’s . . .” She sighed. “Quinn, it’s not that easy. I can’t just play She’s The Man at Styxton High and get away with it. I shouldn’t have to stoop that low to get somewhere in life as a woman.”
“But—”
“I want to get on that team and prove to those boys I’m just as good as them,” she interrupted me.
I ran my hands through my hair and shrugged. “Then prove it.”
“I’m trying,” she whined.
“How hard do you want it?” I raised my brows, not seeing what held her back. This appeared to be all mental restraint, and she was a strong, capable girl.
“It’s not about how hard I want it,” Quinntessa mumbled.
“It’s about the fact this society thinks they can put me down for being a girl.
Like, like, Sam Gordon! She played tackle football from nine years old and is a huge advocate for the sport.
And Toni Harris was the first woman to receive a college scholarship for a position other than kicker. ”
“Wait, there are actually girl football players?” I asked, genuinely confused.
“Yes!” I jumped in surprise when Quinntessa hit the mattress. “Toni Harris played for her high school in Michigan and played college ball as a safety in California. She received six offers to play football at four-year universities!”
So maybe it wasn’t that odd for a female to receive a recruitment letter in the mail. If my grandfather could make it happen, I might be able to help Quinntessa get out of here under my watch. Or at least, give her a letter that made her happy before she died.
“I’ve played in clubs since I was young. I-I’ve worked my ass off to help set myself up.”