Chase

It’s so quiet in the locker room that I can hear ice clinking into a tub a trainer is filling up. There’s not as much pre-game swagger in here this week. We all know Lennox is a brand-new team this year. They have a new coaching staff and a new quarterback. From the scouting our coaches have done and the film we’ve watched, I know this isn’t the Lennox I played the past three years. They’re stronger and hungrier to prove themselves.

I’m sitting on a bench, elbows on my knees, getting my head into the right place. Between things with Gin and this game, I have no clue what happened in any of my classes today.

After parties and the Sweet Sixteen are far from anyone’s mind in this room. We all have one objective right now—to win this game.

“Matthews.” The booming call of my coach makes me lift my head and look across the locker room. “Out in the hallway.”

I sigh heavily as I stand. I don’t need this right now. There’s only one person Coach would let me leave this locker room for. And as soon as I step out the door and it swings closed behind me, he starts in.

“McConnell is fast,” my dad says. “Faster than you. He’s also smart. So you have to—”

“I know.” I stop him midsentence. “We scouted him.”

Dad narrows his eyes at me. They’re blue, like mine, but perennially a little bloodshot. He doesn’t drink on Fridays during the season until after the games, but every other day, he starts in on the cheap canned beer as soon as he walks in the door after work. He’s also just getting older. His stomach’s not flat anymore, and his hairline’s thinning out.

“Don’t tell me you know.” His tone is laced with disgust. “If you were so goddamn confident, you wouldn’t look like you’re pissing your pants right now. So shut up and listen. Get your pre-snap reads right. You screw those up, you’re in deep shit.”

I nod, because the last thing I need right now is to piss him off. If I do, it won’t be me he takes it out on.

“Lennox is good at disguising their defense,” he continues. “Stay sharp. Don’t get lazy out there.”

“I won’t.”

“There are scouts here tonight, Chase.”

My chest tightens with pressure as he speaks. My focus will stay entirely on this game, scouts or not, because I’m part of a team. I’m not here to bring attention to myself. But now I’ll know in the back of my mind that if I make even the slightest misstep, my dad won’t let me forget it.

“I’ve got it,” I tell him coolly. “I haven’t lost a game yet.”

He leans in. “Don’t get cocky, boy. I’ve been watching the Lennox film.”

I’m about to tell him I have too, but I just nod instead. He claps me on the shoulder, straightens his red Roper Football hat, and leaves without another word.

The farther he goes in the other direction, the more I relax. When I walk back into the locker room, no one looks at me. Everyone’s in their own mental zone. Every player knows that in a game against Lennox, one mistake could lose the game. And in a town like Roper, no one wants to be the one to make such a mistake.

I learned over my years of playing football how to drown out the noise and excitement of the crowd when I need to. Sometimes I feed on it, other times I need to shut it out. Tonight is one of those nights it’s just my teammates and me. We’re a band of brothers on the field, all of us ready for battle but a little more sober about it than last week. I think we all just want this game to be over.

My pre-snap reads are all good, and we execute every play perfectly. But Lennox’s defense is on point tonight, and they shut us down at almost every turn. These guys want this win—I can see it in the narrowed eyes of every one of them.

We’re tied 7-7 at the half, and the stands are quieter than usual. Not every game we play is a blowout win, but we don’t fall behind and we don’t find ourselves tied with our opponent at halftime.

Until tonight.

I can feel the pressure crushing my shoulders as we all sit down in the locker room. When I exhale, it feels like the first time since before the game started.

“Matthews,” Coach calls out.

I look up and meet his gaze, blinking away the sweat that rolls down my forehead and into one of my eyes.

“Is this about that girl? Are you thinking about whether you’ll get laid tonight instead of this game?”

The air in the room stills. What happens at the lake house after football games isn’t exactly a secret in Roper, but teachers, coaches, and parents don’t talk to us about it, for fuck’s sake. They look the other way and let us do our thing.

“No, sir.” I sit up, palms on my thighs.

“Where the hell’s your head, then? You’re slow out there.”

There’s not much fire in his tone, because this isn’t about me. I’m not slow, and he knows it. We’ve all done everything we’re supposed to do. But our undefeated record is in danger, and someone has to get an ass-chewing for it. As team captain, I’m the clear choice.

“What about the rest of you asswipes?” he booms. “You worried about where you’re gonna stick your dicks after this game? Because, boys, if we lose, there’s not gonna be an after party.”

None of us gives a shit about the after party right now, and he knows it. I’m not the only one on this team being scouted, and that’s nerve-racking for any blue-collar son. We’re the pride of our families, all of us, and that’s what’s really on the line tonight.

Coach slams his clipboard against some lockers, lectures us some more about getting our heads out of our asses, and then goes over plays again.

In the third quarter, we get a lucky break when one of Lennox’s linebackers trips and falls, allowing Sam to score. After that, our mojo seems to come back, and we pull off a 21-7 win.

I’m relieved, but exhausted in every way. I think it’s more mental than physical. Even though I played well, I feel responsible for our weak first half.

Though I’d rather be alone after the game, I can’t go home. My dad will want to rip me a new one, and I’m not up for it. So I ride with Sam to the after party, my thoughts wandering to Gin as he talks about the game.

She made it clear—she’s not coming. But I could see in her eyes that a part of her wanted to. I think she wants popularity more than she’s willing to admit.