Chapter 14 Tyler
I don my Hawks jersey for the first time for Friday’s pep rally. The blue and white falls from my shoulders like it was made for me, and an unexpected wave of emotion hits. After leaving my old team, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get this feeling again.
But here I am, a brand-new number on my back and a mob of guys surrounding me. We can hear the noise from the gym through the locker room walls, and the volume of chanting and cheering and teasing only rises to meet it.
My phone chimes, and I glance at it out of instinct. Avery this time. I fucking hate playing without you.
It hits like a punch to the gut. Because yeah, same.
But they weren’t there when it mattered, so here we are.
I would have thought the countless battles I fought on the field beside them would have made their decision easy.
That all the trust and benefit of the doubt we gave one another would have been on their minds when it mattered most.
But it wasn’t. And now I have a new team—even if it’s not quite the same as the old one.
I told my parents not to bother coming for our first game next week; Savannah has a gymnastics thing that weekend, and no way am I going to ask them to miss it, so that would mean they’d drive more than two hours in Friday-night traffic and then two hours back in the pitch-black night.
They protested (Dad, gruffly: I need to be sure your coach knows what he’s doing; Mom, voice concerningly choked up: But I haven’t missed one of your games since peewee!), but I won in the end.
I’ve been enough trouble for them this year already.
But maybe soon. If I keep things low-key, and settle in, and put their minds at ease. Maybe then I can have that one tie to home.
So I turn off my phone, slide it in my pocket, and refocus. Take a deep breath and smile at the guys around me.
Will’s wearing an impeccably tailored blazer over his jersey—all the better for the impressions of famous politicians he’ll do on the gym floor, its last hurrah before getting shut down for construction—and pacing back and forth, checking on all the guys.
He gives me a nod, and I tilt my chin back at him in a way that I hope says, No drama here, dude, keep walking.
He smiles back, so I must pass the test.
I’ve never had a quarterback so intent on making sure his team was all getting along. Sure, Santi was always checking on people, but Will’s next-level. That talent will make him a great QB at UCLA. It’s pretty nice, if a little disconcerting.
You have nothing to worry about, Tyler. I take a deep breath to slow my racing thoughts. You’re not here to cause any trouble for him this year.
Because if I have more to gain here in Hamilton Lakes, I also have more to lose. No scout is going to recruit someone who was kicked off his last team for fighting. So I have even more reason to keep my head down and make good on my story that I only came here for football.
I’m not the only one who’s on edge. Gabe has a strange, dissociated look on his face as he practices his juggling. He gets like that sometimes, in between smiles and cheer, but a good practice usually shakes it out of him.
I advance cautiously, trying not to spook him. “You good, Legs?”
My efforts were unsuccessful. He almost drops a ball, falls halfway across the floor to regain his rhythm and balance, but still manages to flash me a thumbs-up. “Fine! Totally fine! Just promise me you won’t do that when these are on fire, okay?”
“They’re gonna be on fire?”
But he’s already lost in his own world, frowning as he grabs another ball to toss into the rotation. I’ll check on him later.
“Okay, okay, circle up!” Will calls. And just like we would before a big game, the team gathers in a huddle in the middle of the squeaky-clean locker room floor, Kai shushing everyone with reminders to “let Captain Hook cook.”
Once we’re settled, Will continues. “Now, this isn’t a normal game, but it’s no less important. We’re going to show this school that we’re their favorite team to support, okay? That we have talents on the field and off! That we—”
“Everyone decent?” a bubbly voice calls from the locker room door.
My pulse trips. I would recognize that voice anywhere—especially when asking about locker room entry.
Will stops mid-speech with a frustrated sigh. “Can you give us a minute?”
“Does that mean you’re—” A dramatic gasp. “Unclothed?”
Kai can’t resist. “Would you rather? We can get that way, sweetheart—”
Sabrina pokes her head into the locker room with a playful grimace, hand over her eyes. She peeks between two fingers and crows in triumph. “I knew it! Kai, if you need a girlfriend, I can set you up before homecoming, you know—”
“I don’t need help finding a date!”
“Are you sure about that? Because—”
“Sabrina.” Will scowls at her. “I was in the middle of a pep talk.”
“Oh!” She drops her hand, does a little jig on the spot. “That’s so funny, because I was about to give one too!”
Will sighs, a gust born of years of good-natured frustration. He sweeps a hand dramatically before him. “Be my guest.”
Sabrina meets all our eyes in turn. When she catches mine, the faintest flush appears on her cheeks. Like she’s remembering the last time we met in a locker room.
But she regains her composure, pointing at us. “I worked hard on this. Don’t fuck it up.” Then she nods at Will. “Your turn.”
“I—that was it?”
She shrugs. “What else is there to say?”
Will gapes for a moment, then shakes his head helplessly. “You know what? The girl has a point. Don’t fuck it up, guys.”
And then the roar of the crowd outside is peaking, and Sabrina’s holding open the door and rushing us all off, and it’s go time. I can’t help smiling.
It feels really, really good to be part of a team again. And at Hamilton Lakes, that means a team team. Everything is bigger, more serious—including this pep rally.
If I think about it for too long, I get nervous about the attention. But we’re all doing it, and Sabrina has made it clear she has a vision and no one can let her down.
As if I’d dare.
I’m swept out the short, narrow hallway with the rest of them, the din from the gym getting louder and louder as we approach.
No matter how nervous I’d been in the locker room, I get the same feeling I always have before a big game.
Lightning in my veins, every scream from the crowd making me feel important and invincible and needed.
I join the guys as we run to the center of the gym. The lights have been covered with blue-and-white gels, the bleachers are full of students stamping their feet on the boards to make them quake, and the Hawks mascot is flapping its feathery wings to hype up the crowd. It’s a full scene.
But all I’m seeing is Sabrina standing at the edge of the bleachers, watching everything to make sure it goes off without a hitch. Her hair is braided, ribbons weaving through the strands, and she’s wearing a shirt printed with the names of every single football player. Even mine.
When I catch her eye, I give her a classic Sabrina wink. I don’t know if she can see it from here, but when she grins at me, I imagine she did. I hope she did.
We’re gonna do you proud, blondie.
The pep rally kicks off with a routine from the cheerleaders that’s full of nearly as many high kicks as the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders’.
Principal Castillo gives a speech that I gather is about school spirit and uniting through adversity and supporting one another through challenges, but I couldn’t repeat a single sentence.
The longer it goes on, the more the nerves butterfly in my stomach.
The only full sentence I catch is the last one:
“And now… introducing your Hamilton Lakes Varsity football team!”
The crowd roars, rivaling the rush of blood pounding in my ears.
Will kicks it off with his series of impressions—his Nixon is especially good—and by the time Gabe takes the floor with his batons, everyone is losing their goddamn minds. I’ve never heard people scream so loud for a juggler.
Finally, I step up, feeling like a total idiot, holding a microphone.
Kai joins me with a grin, and I step behind him so the mic is partially concealed but my face is visible.
When I told him Sabrina put a moratorium on ventriloquism dummies, he immediately volunteered.
He’s an even bigger ham than Avery ever was.
“I know you might not know this guy,” I say—but my mouth barely moves, and Kai is mouthing the words along with me, so it seems like he’s saying it. “But I can guarantee he’s going to bring all his muscle to the first game, and he’s mighty proud to be a Hawk. Fly high!”
I step away, blushing furiously to the uproarious applause.
Under any other circumstances, I’d be fleeing from this much attention.
But I keep my eyes on Sabrina, who’s beaming and whooping, waving her hands in the air like my ridiculous talent is as admirable as any game I could help this team win.
I shake my head, laughing too. She makes it feel like all this could just be…
fun. Like this year could be safe for me.
Maybe it can be.
By the end of the pep rally, everyone’s on their feet in the bleachers.
The team is stationed by the gym doors, holding up our hands for high fives, accepting well-wishes for the first game.
I can’t even be nervous—it’s just so nice to have so many people celebrating you, expecting nothing but the best.
“That was pretty epic,” a guy tells a friend on his way out.
“Seriously.” Guy number two shakes his head in disbelief. “The Spirit Committee must not have slept for weeks.”
Can confirm. I look for Sabrina, wanting to congratulate her on the fruits of her hard work. She’s making her way through the crowd, cleaning up confetti and grabbing pom-poms from the cheerleaders.
But when she catches my eye, she just drops the poms and rushes my way. The expectant smile on her face makes me feel like I could float clear away.