Blitzed(14)

We drive to McDonald's and get our meals, the smell of the fries filling the car as we drive the few miles out to the Point. It's the local Lover's Lane and is situated on a small rise, not really a point in the river, but close enough to have earned it the name Slater's Point. Shutting off his engine, Troy opens the bag then closes it. "Do you want to eat in the car or outside?"

I think about it and look out at the sunset. We're still in late summer, after all, and the sun doesn't go down for another half-hour at least. "That rock over there looks kinda nice. What do you think?"

Troy sees where I'm looking, and a little smirk comes to his face. He's obviously been up here before, and I'm betting he's done more than just have a picnic on that rock. However, his smirk falters, and that haunted look comes back to his face. "Okay. It's a good spot, I think."

We take our paper bags of food over to the rock and sit down, unpacking. Troy's a bit surprised when I fold my hands and bow my head, and when I look up, it's my turn to be embarrassed. "Sorry. Habit from my Mom."

"Your Mom's one of those, huh? Not my scene, but I respect it,” Troy replies, taking a bite of his cheeseburger. "From what I've seen, if there is a God up there, he isn't interested in my life."

"What do you mean? Your life seems pretty perfect in my opinion. Big man on campus, easy path to college, tons of friends . . .”

Troy sets his burger down and looks at me like I'm crazy. "You're serious, aren't you? Jesus, Whitney, you really don't know me very well, do you?"

It’s my turn to be angry, as if somehow I'm supposed to know Troy Wood's life story. "Excuse me, Mister Five-Star QB, but they don't issue out your biography along with the Social Studies textbook. Admit it—until yesterday, you didn't even know who I was! You're not the one who's spent three years being called Pancake Nelson, or do you think I didn't know about that?"

I realize I’m raising my voice and standing up, and I've not even taken a single bite of my food. Troy stares at me, his powerful jaw muscles working, and he sets his burger down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You're right. I was wrong. I'm sorry, Whit . . . just, today's been one of those days that I'd like to forget, you know what I mean?"

"What happened?" I ask, sitting back down on the warm rock. "And I'm not going to crack any jokes, I promise."

"What do you mean?" Troy asks, confused. "What's wrong with jokes?"

I shrug and pick up a fry, sticking it in my mouth. "I guess I've gotten tired of being teased, that's all. It's hard to talk to people when you know that if you tell them how you really see things or how you feel, you're going to get teased. But . . . that's for another time, maybe. Tell me about your day."

"Well, football went like shit today," Troy starts, closing his eyes. He kind of half turns away from me and looks out over the river, his elbows resting on his knees and his head hanging. "If I keep playing like practice today, that idea of an easy scholarship isn't going to be coming my way. Hell, if I keep going like today, I won't even be starting by Homecoming."

"Everyone has bad practices," I say, scooting over next to him. For some reason, I put my hand on his leg, then kind of wrap my arm through his and take his hand. "I mean, I don't know football, you know, but nobody can be perfect all the time, right?"

Troy nods and opens his eyes, looking out at the river. "I have to be. At least on the field—I need to be. If I'm going to get out of this town, away from . . .”

"Away from what?" I ask. "Because I know this town isn't all that bad. We're not San Francisco or Seattle or anything, but it could be a lot worse."

Troy swallows and looks down again. "Just . . . home life's tough, you know? The eye . . . that isn't from football."

I gasp, moved. I mean, Mom's strict on the church side of things, and sometimes it’s strange having a mom who is younger than all of your teachers and gets confused for your older sister when she goes shopping with me, but Mom loves me. When she has gotten boyfriends, she's always put me first, which has cost her a few of the guys, but we both agree that we’re a package deal, at least until I head off to college. Most of all, Mom never lays a hand on me. "Troy . . . why don't you tell someone?"

"Like what? 'Hey, I'm a total worthless shit who has a drunk for a father and no mother, since she abandoned me to that * when I was three, and the only hope I've got of not going down the same path is to get into the NFL.’ I'd get laughed right out of school."

I'm shocked to see Troy, who I'd never even imagined would be insecure, at least based on what Dani told me at lunch today. He hangs his head, then laughs bitterly once before looking at me again. "Hell of a first date, isn't it?"

I smile and lean my head on his shoulder and give his hand a squeeze. "I could think of worse. All day, I figured you'd bring me here or to some other place, where you'd try and talk your way into my pants. In case you don't know, the girls on the cheer squad know about what you and your buddies were doing in the stands yesterday. Dani filled me in on it. I guess I've been more innocent than I knew."

Troy chuckles and we relax, just watching the river roll by. "Can I be honest? When I asked you out yesterday, I had the same idea as the other guys. The way they reacted when you started practice . . . you damn near caused a scene, and a fight between the guys—me included. A lot of them saw you as something like that McFlurry that we've got melting here. A little bite of dessert."