Second Down - Chapter 9

My stomach finally pushed me to get off the bench and head inside. I was still struggling with the idea that I needed to become friends with the guy who would maybe, if my dream was right, kill my father in a year and a half. It was the right call, really the only call considering there was no way I could explain my reasoning. At least not without getting locked up.

I tried to put it in the back of my mind for now, until I figured out how to go about being friends with some random kid I’d never met before today. I’d done him a favor, getting Elijah off him, so maybe he’d be receptive to something.

I was feeling kind of hollow as I got in line and got my food, just keeping my head down and trying to process it all. I finally looked up to avoid two guys talking in the aisle way between tables, and caught sight of the girl I’d seen the other day, sitting outside the school. The Chinese girl whose name I still didn’t remember.

She was sitting by herself again, just like she had the other day. I started to walk past her and had a thought. IF I was going to befriend Eduardo and fix the things that happened in my dream, then I shouldn’t stop there. I had to try and fix all of it. All the shit I was going to do in the dream, during those two years of high school before it all fell apart. When I thought I was god’s gift to the world. When I was as big of an asshole as Elijah.

I looked past here to where my friends were sitting. Connor and Miguel were looking my way, confused. They were probably wondering why I was so late to lunch and then just stopped in the middle of the cafeteria. I shook my head and waved them off before turning back to her table, dropping my tray on the table in front of her and sitting on the hard, attached plastic seat.

She froze mid-bite, her sandwich hovering inches from her mouth.

“What are you doing?” she asked, somewhere between angry and annoyed.

“I saw you the other day, sitting out front of the school by yourself. And then I saw you here, by yourself again, eating your lunch, so I figured I’d stop and join you.”

“Why?”

“Because no one should have to be by themselves all the time.”

She set down her sandwich and crossed her arms.

“I’m fine by myself. Why aren’t you sitting with your football friends?”

“Maybe I don’t want to sit with them right now. I’d rather be here.”

Her chair scraped against the floor as she stood up abruptly, her hands flat on the table. “I don’t know what your plan is, but I’m not going to sit here and let you and your friends play any more jokes on me.”

“What?” I looked up at her, genuinely confused. “What jokes? What are you talking about?”

“Those guys over there,” she said, pointing towards Elijah’s table. “They took my physics textbook last week. Then yesterday, someone put an unpeeled banana in my backpack and then smashed it, getting all over my work.

And now they’ve started calling me...” She stopped, her face flushing. “Never mind. I’ve had enough.”

“Wait, who did what?” I turned to look where she was pointing. Elijah and his crew were huddled together, laughing about something.

“Them. Your friends,” she practically spat the word.

I couldn’t help but notice Brandy was sitting with them, Mason’s arm around her. Not the point of the moment, but it irked me a little every time I saw them. There was a point, pre-dream, where I thought she really liked me.

“Those guys aren’t my friends.” I shook my head. “They actually hate my guts right now because I won’t play along with their BS anymore.”

“You’re all on the team together.”

“So what? Just because we’re on the same team doesn’t mean I’m friends with them. People can be part of something and still not agree with each other. I had no idea they’d been messing with you, and I definitely don’t condone it.”

She lowered herself back into her seat but kept her arms crossed. “Right. Sure. That’s exactly what someone like you would want me to believe.”

“Someone like me?”

“Popular kids. One of them.” She gestured vaguely toward Elijah’s table again. “You know what, this is my table and I don’t want you sitting here.”

“I’m not…” I started to protest but stopped myself.

She was pissed and not going to listen to me. Just pressing her wasn’t going to change her mind.

“Fine. If you really want me to leave you alone, I will,” I said, picking up my tray and stepping away from the table. A step away, I stopped and looked back at her and said, “For what it’s worth, I wasn’t trying to trick you. I just noticed you sitting by yourself a lot. Thought maybe you could use a friend.”

Without waiting for a response, I turned and headed for the table with Miguel, Connor, and the others. I could feel her eyes on my back as I walked away, but I didn’t look back. Some things couldn’t be fixed in one conversation. Sometimes you had to give people space to figure things out for themselves.

She’d at least looked up to talk to me this time. That was progress, right?

***

I didn’t get to catch the JV game on Friday because I wanted to get a head start on the extra assignments I’d been given for the following week, but I did manage to talk my dad into going to see the first varsity game of the season.

Kenneth Ward was as good as advertised, with a hell of an arm on him. He threw some pretty serious passes and really seemed to be able to read the defense. I could see a lot of what Coach Heidemann had been talking about in practice as Kenneth adjusted the plays based on the pressure they were getting from the other team.

The only thing that I thought was a problem was how much they ran, given how well he threw the ball. Coach Holloway seemed to really like just trying to punch the ball through with sheer brute strength. When they did let him pass, it was short dinky things designed to pick up a few safe yards. They moved the ball steadily, to be sure, but it took all of the excitement out of the game and kept the score low.

They still managed to bring in the victory with a fourteen to seven. I was sure they were going to win some games that way, but I wasn’t sure that kind of play calling was going to get them to state.

Which was a waste, considering how good Kenneth was.

That was still on my mind as we got to practice Monday afternoon. Looking through the playbook Coach Heidemann had given me, it was clear that was the kind of play style the entire school was running. There was good reason for it, I was sure. It would be easier to learn and a safer playstyle, but I wanted to get us to state by the time I was a senior. A consistent thing to think, I knew, but ever since the dream, I wasn’t just going through life hoping for the best.

I wanted to get into a good D1 school, and from there to the NFL, and I wasn’t going to do that just making short dinky passes and running the ball.

How I was going to get the coaches to do something a little more exciting, though, was beyond me.

I wasn’t the only thing with something on my mind. I showed up to the practice field a little early, since I wasn’t screwing around as much as Elijah or a bunch of the other guys were before they got suited up for practice. I was surprised to see Miguel, Connor, and the rest of my new friends already out there. I would have been happy to see they’d stepped up their work ethic too, except they looked worried about something, and had clearly been talking about it.

“Hey,” I said, joining their circle. “What’s up?”

“We’re going to have another shit week,” Miguel said. “Connor overheard them at lunch when he walked by their table.”

“Yeah?” I said, looking at Connor.

“Not a lot, but enough that it was clear they weren’t going to give up on it.”

“They also couldn’t stop trying to burn holes through you with how they were looking at you either,” Jamal said.

“They’re jerks. We can’t let them get in our heads.”

“It’s more than that. They’re gonna try something again during the game,” Tyrell said. “Mark my words.”

Miguel nodded. “They’d rather see us lose than let you succeed.”

“That’s what I don’t get,” Connor said. “Why trash our whole season just to get back at Blake?”

“Because they’re idiots,” Jamal replied.

“You need to do something,” Connor insisted, turning to me.

“Like what?”

“Coach Heidemann’s always pulling you aside to talk. He listens to you.”

“I already tried that after the game,” I said. “He didn’t believe they were throwing plays on purpose.”

“We still have to do something,” Miguel said. “If Coach won’t believe they’re doing it on purpose, maybe you’re going to have to talk to him about changing plays when things start looking sketchy. Like, in a way that isn’t accusing them of something.”

“You want me to ask for permission to call plays?”

“Audibles at least. Coach is always saying you’re supposed to be our leader, so wouldn’t come off as you just interfering or anything. You’d be doing your job as our captain.”

“Besides,” Tyrell added, “hate to say it, but they’re kind of your responsibility.”

“How do you figure that?”

“They were your friends. I’m not saying you’re like them. We all know you’re different from them, but...”

“But they’re still my problem,” I finished.

I’m not sure I loved the idea, or that it was fair, but I’d talked the guys into sitting separate from them, and more or less position ourselves against them. I’d made them my responsibility, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that they’d expect me to deal with it.

“Yeah,” I said finally. “Alright. I’ll talk to Coach.”

“Now?” Jamal asked.

I spotted Coach Heidemann walking toward the field, clipboard in hand. “No time like the present.”

I jogged over to Coach Heidemann before he reached the field. “Coach, got a minute?”

He checked his watch. “Make it quick, Blake. Practice starts in ten.”

“It’s about the offense.” I fell into step beside him. “I’ve been thinking about last week’s game-”

“Blake,” Coach cut in, shaking his head. “We’re not revisiting this.”

“No, sir, that’s not what I mean.” I moved in front of him, making him stop. “I’m not accusing anyone of anything. But during the game, there were times I could tell things weren’t lined up right. Players weren’t where they needed to be, weren’t looking for the pass. By the time I saw it, it was too late to do anything about it.”

“Okay.”

“I know we haven’t covered audibles yet, but I’d like to start learning them. That way, if I see something’s going to be a problem, I can adjust before the snap.”

“Actually, that was always part of the plan. That’s one of the reasons we have a freshman team, to transition from how the game is played in middle school to how it’s played at this level. It’s something you and the rest of the team need to master here before moving up to JV and varsity.”

“Could we start this week? Have something ready for Friday’s game?”

“A week? That’s not nearly enough time.”

“I can do the work. I know it’s not a lot of time, but I’m willing to do what it takes.”

“It’s not just about you. Audibles aren’t just about you making calls. The entire offense has to recognize them, process them, and adjust their assignments accordingly.”

“I get that. We don’t need anything complicated. Just basic stuff at first - maybe changing the direction of a run or switching from a pass to a handoff. Then we can add more as the season goes on.”

Coach tapped his clipboard against his leg, thinking. “I don’t know...”

“You told me I needed to be a leader for this team. That’s what I’m trying to do here. Give me the tools to help us succeed.”

He studied me for a long moment. “Alright. We’ll work on some basic calls these next few practices. See how it goes. But if the team’s not ready by Friday, we stick to the original playbook. Deal?”

“Deal. Thanks, Coach.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Now get suited up. Practice starts in five, and we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Well, that worked better than I thought it would. Now I just had to not screw it up.

***

The practice on Monday and Tuesday actually went well, enough that I was starting to feel that Coach Heidemann was going to agree to let us try it on Thursday’s game, but it was still a lot of work. And not just for me.

On Wednesday, Miguel caught up with me in the hallway as I was on the way to lunch, slugging my shoulder in way of greeting.

“You know you’ve screwed us, right?”

His tone was light and he was smiling, so whatever he was going to say, I knew he was just messing with me.

“What’d I do this time?”

“This,” he said, holding up the playbook. “Football’s supposed to be fun, not more homework. You’ve got us studying like it’s finals week.”

“Hey, you guys were the ones who wanted me to talk to Coach about dealing with Elijah’s crew. This was the solution. Can’t complain now.”

“I guess. It’s just... there are so many signals and plays to remember and coach keeps running us every time we screw up.”

“I know. I’m right there running with you. Or did you forget? Besides, you want to show them you deserve to end up on varsity next year, this is how we’re going to do it.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath about ‘torture’ and ‘studying,’ but didn’t say anything else. I was about to tease him again about his work ethic as we walked into the cafeteria, when I looked over and saw the Chinese girl sitting by herself again, and our eyes locked. She gave me a nasty look, as if daring me to bother her again and I looked away.

“That went well,” Miguel snickered.

“Shut up,” I muttered, getting in the lunch line.

We grabbed our trays loaded with mystery meat and overcooked vegetables. Edible, but just barely.

“You crashed and burned, dude. It happens.”

“I told you, it’s not like that.”

“Sure buddy,” he said, laughing.

I just shook my head. It wasn’t like I was going to be able to explain to them that I was trying to make up for past wrongs in a dream I had a month ago that I thought was prophetic. Even thinking that sentence made me wonder if I was crazy.

We were almost at our table when I noticed someone else sitting by themselves. Eduardo. I’d vowed that I’d make friends with him and try to keep him from joining the gang. Now seemed as good of a time as ever.

“Hey, I’ll join you guys in a bit,” I said, slowing my pace.

Miguel followed my gaze and laughed. “What, are you like the patron saint of loners now? Making it your mission to save every kid eating alone?”

“Maybe I am. Worked out pretty well with you guys, didn’t it?”

“Whatever, Mother Teresa.” Miguel shook his head and walked away.

He kept going, joining the others toward their table as I turned and headed to where Eduardo was sitting.

I placed my tray down across from Eduardo, making him jump slightly. He looked up, like a startled animal ready to bolt. He was probably worried that it was Elijah or Mason, and calmed down after a second, although instead of his expression turning to one of recognition, it became one of confusion.

He looked down at his plate, and then back up at me, like he was debating something.

“Hey. Sorry for being a jerk the other day. I was in a rush, and it was... just a rough morning.”

“Ohh,” he said, seeming to relax. “It’s cool. You actually helped me out with those guys, so...”

“Yeah, well, they’re jerks. They hate me as much as anyone. What’s their problem with you anyway?”

“No idea. I’ve got woodshop with Mason, but I barely talk to any of him, or any of the rest of them. Maybe it’s just because I’m new?”

“You just moved here?”

“Yeah. My dad relocated us from Midland, even though he still works there, which means he has to drive two hours each way. He thought this would be a ‘better environment,’“ he said, shooting a pointed look at Elijah’s table, where Mason was currently shoving Jake’s head down toward his food.

Something in Eduardo’s tone made me suspect there was more to the story, but I didn’t push. I remembered what happened to him in that other life - the gang violence, the path he went down. Maybe his dad had seen the warning signs early, tried to prevent it by moving his family away. But from what I was seeing, the move might have just made things worse. Being isolated, alone, and picked on seemed like a good recipe for someone turning to a gang for friends.

“I get the long commute. My dad works in Midland too,” I said instead. “He’s a deputy there.”

“My dad works for the city too, actually. He’s a groundskeeper. Long hours, but at least it’s steady work.”

From there we talked about our dads’ commute, what it was like for him living in Midland, our families and the classes we were taking, and basically just got to know each other through the rest of lunch. He was actually a nice guy once he got over being so terrified. He was funny and self-deprecating and for most of the conversation, I actually forgot what he did in my dream. Getting to know him, learning about his cousin who had leukoma and his best friend in Midland who moved away two years ago, it was hard to reconcile the person in front of me with the one I remembered from my dream, sitting at the defense table, staring blankly ahead while the medical examiner talked about my dad’s injuries.

I wasn’t sure if that was making this easier, or harder, but at least I was able to push it aside and just focus on being friendly. What was very clear was that Eduardo needed friends. He was very clearly lonely and stressed from that making him a target for ridicule.

As lunch wrapped up, I started to gather up my trash, I said, “Hey, tomorrow you should come sit with us.”

I nodded to the table where Miguel, Connor and the rest were still sitting, not in any hurry to get to their next class.

Eduardo hesitated. “I don’t know, man. Football players...”

“Miguel and those guys aren’t like Elijah and Mason,” I said, cutting him off. “They’re good people. You’d like them.”

“Maybe.”

“Plus,” I added, “having friends watching your back makes guys like that think twice about starting trouble.”

Eduardo considered this, then nodded slowly. “Yeah, that would be good.”

“Cool. See you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah, see you.”

Walking to class, I actually felt like I’d accomplished something. True, football was going better than in my dream, but it was still mostly on track for the same pace, since I knew I’d end up on at least JV with the way the coach was talking.

This … this was the first huge change I’d made to my life off the dream. It was just one conversation, so I wasn’t counting it as a victory or anything, but it was solid progress.