14. Kirin
Kirin
The Jefferson College football team was struggling to get through its game.
They’d started strong with a touchdown in the first quarter, but they’d been scrambling ever since.
And now they were in the last quarter. The crowd was dwindling; they were looking more and more dejected.
It didn’t help that the Montgomery coach, Coach Odom, had pulled out all the starters right before halftime.
That had bolstered the Jefferson team a bit for half of the third quarter. But not for long, especially when the second-string Montgomery defense decimated Jefferson’s meager attempts at a comeback.
Relegated to the bench with the rest of the Montgomery starters, Kirin downed another cup of water.
The massive screen was replaying the Jefferson quarterback getting sacked.
With a shake of his head, he reached for another cup when Leon dropped to a knee beside the bench, all but slapping Kirin’s arm away from the cups.
“Hey!” Kirin objected, but Leon ignored him and shoved an iPad in Kirin’s face.
“You think we could use this one against Wisconsin? Or will they see it coming?” Leon asked as he dragged his finger over the screen and mapped out a play that Kirin knew the sophomore-heavy team wouldn’t see coming.
Definitely not fair.
“I think that’s a play you keep in your back pocket for someone who actually poses a threat,” Kirin said as he reached past Leon for another cup.
“I’ll mention it to Coach.” Leon nodded. Standing just long enough to nudge Kirin over until he could claim the end of the bench closest to the water table. “I gotta admit, I know they said Jefferson was going to have some issues, but damn, this is a shit show.”
“Did you see how disorganized their defense was?” Kirin shook his head, sipping at his cup as he watched their second-string bowl over the opposing offense and sack the Jefferson quarterback again. “He’s going to be sore tomorrow.”
“It’s depressing,” Leon agreed, his head swiveling toward Kirin in a way that made him nervous. “Have you heard from Rose?”
There it is. He frowned.
Leon winced with false concern. “What? Is that a depressing topic too?”
“No, I just…” Kirin sighed. “I’m worried about her. She didn’t want to talk about the mess at Westmont.”
Leon nodded, his gaze on the backward momentum of Jefferson. They needed to defend their quarterback better. He wasn’t getting enough time in the pocket to throw the ball, even though his receivers were wide open.
“Are you surprised?” Leon asked before he stood up, shouting and clapping when their defense swatted the ball down, resulting in an incompletion.
“What’s got you surprised, Callaghan?” One of the wide receivers, D’Anthony Lockhart, asked as he took Leon’s vacated spot between Kirin and the water table. “Better not be this game.”
“I was hoping for a better game, but no, it’s this mess at Westmont and my girl.” He grumbled, “Is it bad I’m rooting for Jefferson to at least get a field goal before this ends?”
“Nah, just proves you’re a ‘root for the underdog’ kind of person.” D’Anthony chuckled, “Your girl, the one in that photo from Rita’s?”
“Yep.” Kirin scratched his head. Jefferson was still going backwards. “It’s new.”
“She owns that sick burgundy Bronco with the Arizona plate that’s always parked outside St. James Sweets, right?”
He glanced at D’Anthony. He didn’t know her Bronco was always outside St. James Sweets.
But he knew from high school that parking on that street was hard because it was popular, unless she had a reserved parking spot.
Another puzzle piece slid into place. This one was damn obvious if he’d given it half a thought.
“Yeah, how’d you know that was her ride?” Kirin raised an eyebrow, and D’Anthony chuckled again, hands raised.
“I’m not into your girl. Got my own, so no need to worry.
But I noticed the Bronco when I got dragged there like a month ago?
” He scratched his head, as if he weren’t sure how to explain it any better.
“The Arizona plate caught my attention first. I grew up there, so I always notice them first. And I’ve seen her climb in and speed off; that hair is pretty hard to miss. ”
He nodded. That was true enough. But it also confirmed his question about why her Bronco was parked there. Definitely a reserved spot.
“I didn’t know you grew up in Arizona. You played for Florida before you entered the transfer portal, right?” Kirin asked, his attention on the field through the players and support staff standing on the sideline as the defense did their best to dismantle the opposing offense.
“Yeah, thank God they offered me a spot here, so I didn’t have to take the offer from Western Ohio.” Lockhart shuddered, and Kirin chuckled, lifting his fist for the wide receiver to bump his own against.
“Their program has been struggling. This was the best option,” Kirin agreed.
Lockhart snorted. “They were doing so well, and then it just nose-dived.”
“Kind of like Jefferson,” Kirin murmured, his attention shifting from the field to the Jumbotron. “Do you think these guys will get it together for the rest of the season, or are they gonna keep playing like this?”
“They’ve been relying on their senior classmen for years and didn’t develop their sophomores.
A rookie mistake by a rookie coach. No chance they make this work without a major overhaul before the end of the season.
” Lockhart grabbed a cup and downed a few mouthfuls.
“Back to Westmont though. Did they have to schedule it for Homecoming? Seems like a bad omen or something, even if this shit going on with them calms down by then.”
Kirin sighed, his stomach twisting at the reminder. He focused on the screen for the final four minutes, trying to ignore his feelings. “I guess it depends on which players are involved,” he said.
“From what I saw, nobody mentioned any names, but since Westmont is full of trust fund babies, I’m sure powerful lawyers are involved.” D’Anthony shrugged.
They both watched the second string get an interception and plow down the field for a pick six. With another touchdown and an extra point, Jefferson looked more dejected than ever. The starters all cheered, clapping from their seats on the bench.
When Lockhart looked back at Kirin, his face opened as if he was coming to a realization. “Your girl transferred from Westmont, right? That’s what you’re worried about? Wondering if she heard about any of this before she left?”
“Yeah.” Kirin remembered the gaps in Rose’s social media account and the months of blank pages in an otherwise packed planner.
How she’d hesitated, trying to hide it, when drinking something she didn’t watch get made.
When they went out, she picked the seat with a wall behind her that gave her the best view of the space.
Lockhart’s face and tone shifted, sobering.
“Look, whatever happened at Westmont, it ain’t our issue.
I hope your girl isn’t involved, that none of that touched her because it’s fucked up.
But for us, for the game against Westmont, their season got tanked before it even got started.
Not exactly the feel-good win we want for Homecoming, you know? ”
“A win is a win, and if they lost half their team to that bullshit, then they deserve the shit season they’re in for.” Kirin rubbed a hand over his face as the time on the clock ran out. “That’s game.”
Jefferson never got that field goal. Disappointing.
After getting home in the early hours, Kirin slept late on Sunday and headed straight for the shower when he woke up. As he stepped out, his phone lit up with a text from his mom.
Mom
Can’t make it to Ev’s game, hoping you can. I messaged Laurel too.
Every year, the high school coach required seniors to help with the community pee-wee team. They took turns—one coaching, the next serving as assistant—to keep things consistent. Today was Evan’s coaching debut.
It was also a chance to see Laurel. They hadn’t spoken since the party last weekend, and Kirin knew it was time to fix that. He threw on sweats and a sweatshirt, grabbed tea and a sandwich, and ate on the drive across town.
At the rink, he parked at the far end of the lot. As he rounded the back of his truck, a fresh scratch along the tailgate caught his eye—cutting straight through his Montgomery University sticker. That hadn’t been there before. He ran his fingers over the gouge. Someone had keyed it.
“What the fuck,” he muttered.
A quick glance at his phone told him the game was about to start. With a sigh, he snapped a few photos, made a note to file a claim later, and crossed the lot with long strides.
Inside, cold air blasted him as he stepped through the doors to the second-floor viewing area.
He yanked his collar up and scanned the benches until he spotted a familiar white beanie—black-and-brown pom on top, with two blonde braids trailing below.
Laurel. Her knees bounced where her feet rested on the railing overlooking the ice.
Laurel barely glanced his way when Kirin dropped onto the bench beside her.
“Hey, stranger,” he tried.
“Hey, traitor,” she muttered, eyes glued to the ice.
He sighed. “Shrimp—”
“Don’t Shrimp me,” she snapped, her fingers tightening around the thermos in her hands. “You’ve ignored my messages all week.”
“This isn’t a text conversation.” His voice was quiet, patient. Laurel’s anger could be bitterly cold, and it stung to be on the receiving end.
They sat in silence for the first few minutes of the game. Evan was on the ice below, trying to wrangle the kids. Kirin cheered for him, though the tension between him and Laurel didn’t ease.