Blitzed(30)

So I have stress on me from that. Then there's Dad. The cops booked him on an assault charge, and he's being kept without bail in the county jail. He's not fighting it so far. I think he wants the free food and lodging, but that means I'm on my own. I'm eighteen, so child welfare doesn't concern itself with me, and with all the attention on me, I can't work my after school job either. The owner gave me a call and explained himself, but basically, he said until the season is over, I'm out of work. At least the landlord of the house came by, and he said not to worry about rent. Still, I don't know what's going to happen there.

Then there's Whitney. After my comments the week of the Hartsville game, I've tried over and over to make it up to her, but things are strained. It's painful, even more painful than my slowly healing legs, to be barely speaking to each other. We still eat lunch together, but there's a tension there that we didn't have before, and I don't know why. I try to talk to her, but it's just a series of short questions and answers until the lunch period ends, and then we're off on our different schedules.

Now, it's Thursday night, and I'm back where I am every Thursday before a home game, sitting in the stands and looking over my sanctuary. Cory's sitting with me after everyone else has gone for the night. The air's chilly, and it won't be long before we start wearing tights under our uniforms for these night games.

"You're pretty quiet, bro."

I nod and pick at the concrete under my bleacher. "Yeah. Just getting my head right. It's harder this week, with all that's going on."

"Yeah, I guess it would be," Cory says, leaning back. "The guys are worried about it. I mean, we know why you've been a step slow in practice—you still look pretty ugly. Not that you didn't before, you know, just it's a more multicolored ugly now."

I laugh lightly, not because I'm actually amused but because I know Cory expects something. Still, he can hear it, and he falls quiet too. "Just . . . I don't know, man, maybe I am whipped. It hurts, that's all."

Cory nods. "You wanna know a secret? I've spent the past seven weeks jealous of you, actually. I mean, it's fun getting more ass than a toilet seat, but to see what you and Whitney have . . . it gets a guy to start thinking that maybe I need to look at changing."

“Really? I guess I should call you full of shit, but then again, I would’ve said the same thing about me not too long ago."

"Now, I'm not saying that I'm going to stop enjoying myself," Cory says with a laugh, "but I’m saying that if a girl I really like comes my way, well, I can see why you've changed, that's all. But tomorrow night, I hope that the Troy I saw at Homecoming shows up. Hey, change of subject—you hear from any schools yet? Rumor going around is Clement's interested in you.”

"That's what they said, but they didn't call last week like they said they would. Maybe because of me being hurt, maybe because they had a tough game with late TV, I don't know. I’ve just gotta step up tomorrow."

Cory slaps the stands powerfully, happy. "That's the Troy I know. I remember what my dad told me one time, right after my grandfather died. He put in a DVD of Bruce Lee's old movie, Enter The Dragon. You seen it?"

I roll my eyes. “I think everyone's seen it," I say, knowing where Cory is going.

"Then you know what I'm talking about, right? We need emotional content. So when you step on the field tomorrow, you put everything out there. Your pain, the bad feelings because of your dad, and yeah, I'm gonna go there, your love of Whitney. And don't bullshit me, I know you do. Take it all, and leave it out there tomorrow. You do that, and we'll be fine."

"Is that what you do?"

Cory laughs and shakes his head. "Me? You need to check who you're talking to. I don't have enough emotionally going on in my life to last me through the first quarter. I play for the same reason I always have. To crack some heads and to get the girls.”

"You're never going to change, Cory. You know that?"

Cory laughs again and slaps my knee. "I know that, bro. I know that."



I'm nervous, as for the first time ever, I don't feel settled as I walk through my individual warmups and stretches before the game. The sun's nearly down already, the lights are on, and my uniform fits right. But there's still something wrong, and I know what it is. My heart's not in the game.

Suddenly, I hear Whitney behind me. "Troy."

I turn around, and I see her. She's in her uniform, like the other girls, but there's still something different about her. She's still so beautiful, though, that I want to pull her close, but I'm afraid. I don't want to screw up again, like last time. "Whitney. I . . . I thought you wouldn't talk to me before the game. I missed your note."

Whitney gives me a ghost of a smile and reaches into the waistband of her uniform, pulling out a square of folded up notebook paper. "Never. I know things aren't perfect between us, and I'm sorry. It's been mostly my fault."

"No it hasn't," I say, stepping closer. "When I said I want to forget Silver Lake Falls, that doesn't mean you. I know it sounds stupid, but when I've been studying at home, all I can see is us. You're too special to lose."

Whitney blinks and looks up to the night sky, and I think she's about to cry. Instead, she steps forward and wraps her arms around my waist, hugging me tightly. "I love you so much, Troy, and I'm so sorry I screwed the past few weeks up."