6. Jack #2
Of course, my nemesis won. But she wouldn’t be winning this game. That was all that mattered.
Hazel blew her whistle and headed over to Leo.
Nat tightened the bandana in her hair so it didn’t fall out. “Can’t wait ‘til I get your flags, Jack.” Her voice made my blood boil. Her every expression had me bursting at the seams. Then I remembered my secret weapon.
I removed the trophy keychain from my shorts and spun it on my finger, purposely antagonizing her. “What were you saying?” I taunted, and Nat looked ready to blow a gasket. I probably looked like a cartoon villain.
The more she stared, the more her eyes filled with longing. “How about this, the winner gets Bernice? If you win, I’ll make you a hundred bucks richer.” Man, she was desperate.
“Get lost, Nat. This is my lucky keychain now.” I tucked Bernice back into my pocket with a smirk, and Nat turned on her heel. “That’s right, walk away.” I grinned to myself. Needling her was so much fun.
Autumn sidled up to me, looking accusatory. “What did we just talk about, Jack?” Before I could respond, she chastised me. “I know you have your reasons, but grumpy being mean to sunshine is not a good look. You’re coming off like an asshole in front of the campers. Be a professional.”
My gaze immediately tracked for Nat, and I shook my head, angry that I did care about what she was doing, where she was, if I was pissing her off or not.
But it was fun to piss her off. And the truth was, Nat was competitive, a worthy adversary.
She was a lit fuse ready to blow if I said or did the wrong thing, which was infuriating and impossible to ignore.
“I can do that,” I groused.
Autumn nodded at me and seemed appeased as she turned away.
When we finally started the game, I lost confidence that we’d have it in the bag. Nat’s team was formidable. They stole flags left and right, had bursts of energy that led to scoring, and were all-around athletic. Our teams were evenly matched, which made it harder to get ahead on the scoreboard.
We each had more than five players on our team, so we’d cycle out for subs and cheer on our teammates remaining on the field.
I saw Nat sub out, and I followed her, tagging in one of my teammates who charged in with gusto.
She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled to her camper. “You’ve got this. Go in for the kill. Destroy them!”
Hazel paused mid-run to warn her. “Violence.”
“That’s right, look for the opening,” I directed, downright gleeful as we scored.
Nat regrouped and called out a play. “Time for the classic Flea Flicker.”
Flea Flicker? Well, whatever that was, it was working because their team tossed the ball from player to player until everyone on their team had touched it before scoring. And just like that, we were tied yet again.
I took a page from her book and began using football terms on my team, much to their dismay. Annoyance? Yes, it was definitely annoyance.
“Go for the Hail Mary!” I shouted, letting my voice boom over her cheering.
I didn’t know what a Hail Mary was, but it didn’t matter.
I was annoying Nat, and that was more important.
But I’d lost the plot apparently, because my shouting distracted my teammate, Ben, and one of Nat’s players snatched one of his flags and scored.
Great.
Now their team was up.
Nat celebrated, obnoxiously dancing next to me in her red athletic shorts and dirty red tank top. I needed to look away from her diversionary tactics disguised as playful dance moves. I gave her an icy look as we retook the field.
“Careful, Jack. You keep making that face, it’ll stay that way. People will ask about the stick up your ass.”
I stepped closer, looking down into her unflinching eyes. “You’ve gotten so good at relying on me to fix things, but the one thing I can’t fix for you is your game.”
She didn’t back down. “You’re just jealous because your team does better when you’re off the field.”
“In order to be jealous, I’d have to care what you think,” I shot back.
Nat gave me a look that burned into the side of my face, and I cheerfully jogged over to my team, proud of myself for getting under her skin.
I was more determined than ever to take her down.
The whistle blew, and my team had possession, with me leading the charge.
On the next play, we lined up, and I readied myself for the hike, already planning to target one of Nat’s campers, when a blur of red in my periphery snagged my attention just before I was knocked off my feet.
Everything was in slow motion as Nat tackled me to the ground in an illegal quarterback blitz and sack.
“Oof.” I fell hard on my back and heard people all clamoring around me. I took a moment to gather my senses and sat up, pissed. Nat brushed sand from her leg before reaching down to help me, but I ignored her offer and got up by myself.
Hazel interjected and blew her whistle loudly at a smug-looking Nat. “Fifteen-yard penalty.” Nat had the nerve to hold up my flag as if she’d won it fair and square. “This isn’t tackle football.” Hazel made a wild you’re out of here hand motion.
“Come on,” Nat complained as if she had a leg to stand on.
Hazel pointed to the sidelines. She wasn’t having any of it. “Take a two-minute penalty for unsportsmanlike behavior. And you can come back onto the field only if you pinky promise not to do it again.”
“Eject her,” I argued.
Hazel gave me a my rules look, settling the matter. “Not for a first offense.”
“I’ll show you unsportsmanlike behavior,” Nat uttered under her breath as she exited the field. She immediately tried to justify her actions to a bemused Sawyer, who was shaking their head.
While Nat was out, I looked over at her and couldn’t believe my eyes.
She had her phone in her hand, and it pissed me off.
She always had it on her. She couldn’t even play a whole game without her precious hot-pink bejeweled phone, and unfortunately, I couldn’t focus on anything else.
She was insufferable. When she cheered and took photos of her teammates, she had the gall to look like the hottest villain I’d ever seen, and I hated it.
I hated that she pulled my attention to her at every turn.
It was nearing the end of the second half.
Nat’s team scored another touchdown while she was in Hazel’s imposed time-out.
She ran back onto the sand while another teammate subbed out.
Our team fought, and we managed to get back another point, but just as we were making our final drive to tie the game, the whistle blew. Time was up.
Nat celebrated with her team. They gathered around each other, and she was hoisted up briefly, while they all clapped excitedly.
I had lost.
A few torturous minutes later, both teams lined up and high-fived each other, dispersing as they finished. Nat reached out to shake my hand, and I didn’t do the same. She pulled away, a look of surprise on her face.
“This is ridiculous, and you know it. That wasn’t fair play. That was an ambush.”
“Come on, Jack. Take the loss and learn from it,” she said smugly. We were just out of earshot of everyone, but I wished people could see her true colors.
“You just can’t win the right way, now can you, Nat?”
“Are you implying that I’m a cheater?”
“I’m not implying anything.” My voice caught in my throat, and I cleared it and looked away from her before spitting out, “But it’s no surprise. You know all about cheating, don’t you?”
Nat narrowed her eyes in confusion as I turned my back on her and left her alone on the field. I expected a retort, but the silence was deafening.
My harmful imagination latched on to a made-up image of Nat and my ex wrapped around each other.
Thankfully, I’d only been told by Jamie about the cheating, not witnessed it firsthand, but the pang of hurt lashed through me all the same.
She knew what she did back then. I’d had more than enough of Nat Breckenridge.