All the Little Lights(69)

Madison and I sat closer as the air seeped inside our blankets and coats, watching as the Oak Creek Mudcats ran onto the field to the sound of our school song.

“Look! There they are!” she said, pointing to our boyfriends. They were standing on the sideline next to each other, listening to Coach Peckham.

Once the coach walked off, Elliott turned around, looking up in the stands. I held up my hand, raising my fingers and thumb. Elliott did the same, and like last time, I felt the eyes of those in the line of sight between us staring. Elliott turned back around, bouncing up and down, his breath puffing above his black helmet in a cloud of white.

“That might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Madison said. “No wonder you don’t wear mittens. You couldn’t do that with these on,” she said, holding up one hand.

I bowed my head, feeling embarrassment heat my cheeks, but couldn’t stop looking at number seven as he moved to keep warm. Maybe for the first time, I realized what I meant to him and what he meant to me. The warmth spread to my chest and then the rest of me. I wasn’t alone anymore.

“Aw!” Presley said from a few rows up. “How sweet!”

Madison turned around, batting her lashes and smiling. “Eat shit, Presley!”

“Madison Saylor!” a blonde woman sitting next to Presley yelled.

“Mrs. Brubaker!” Madison said, surprised. A nervous laugh tittered from her mouth. “Good to see you. Maybe your daughter won’t be such a troll while you’re here.”

Presley’s mouth fell open, and the clones’ did the same. Mrs. Brubaker’s expression turned severe.

“That’s enough,” she said, unamused.

Madison turned, speaking under her breath. “Is she texting?”

I peeked up from the corner of my eye. “Yes.”

She hunched over and groaned. “She’s texting my dad. They go to our church.”

“No one is shocked more than me. I’ve always thought you were shy,” I said.

“I’m not. I’ve just never had a friend to defend. Isn’t that what friends do?”

I nudged her with my shoulder. “You’re a really good friend.”

She looked at me, beaming. “I am?”

I nodded.

She held up her phone, the display alerting her to a text from her dad. “Worth it,” she said, putting her phone down without reading the message.

Elliott, Sam, Scotty, and Connor walked to the center of the field to meet the Yukon team captains. A coin was tossed, Elliott calling a side. Whatever he said, the referee pointed to Elliott, and the few Oak Creek fans in the stands cheered. Elliott chose to receive the ball, and we cheered again. Canned music played through the PA system as the players lined up on the field and as the Yukon team got ready to kick to our receiver. We made a failed attempt to be louder than the home side.

Sam caught the ball, and Madison screamed, clapping for him the whole sixty yards he carried it.

When Elliott jogged out onto the field, I felt a strange twinge in my stomach. He was getting ready to face off against his old teammates, and I wondered what that must feel like. The pressure to win had to have been insurmountable.

Elliott yelled words I could barely hear over the noise, and Scotty hiked him the ball. Elliott took a few steps back and, after a few seconds, fired a perfect spiral to one of the receivers. I wasn’t sure what was going on and had a hard time following, but then the crowd gasped, the referees threw yellow flags, and I saw a Yukon defensive lineman stand up and point down at Elliott. My number seven was on the ground, his arms and legs splayed out.

“Oh my God. What happened?” I asked.

“They were worried about this,” Madison said.

“About what?”

“That Elliott’s old team would try to take him out. They know how good he is. They’re also pissed he left his senior year.”

I winced at her words, feeling guilty. I knew exactly why he’d left his teammates.

Elliott slowly crawled to his feet, and the crowd applauded. I put my frozen hands together, even though it shot pain up my arms every time I clapped. I slid them under the blanket, watching Elliott slightly limp back to the line.

The next time Elliott threw the football, it was caught in the end zone. Then the Millers made a touchdown, and the teams seemed to go back and forth that way until we caught a slight lead at halftime.

Madison talked me into standing in line with her for hot chocolate. I walked in place, trying to stay warm while we waited for our turn.

“Anna Sue?” Presley said loudly behind us. “He said he’d text you on his way home, right?”

“We’ll see,” Anna Sue answered. “He’s been kind of a baby lately about her finding out.”

“Don’t turn around,” Madison said. “They’re just trying to get your attention.”

“It was going to happen. A guy can’t love ice cream that much and not see you all the time,” Presley said, this time louder. “Buttered pecan, right?”

Madison’s eye twitched, and she turned around slowly.

Presley noticed, and a small smile touched her lips. “Well, let me know if you’re missing the party again to meet him. I’m not waiting an hour like I did last weekend.”

Madison turned, her eyes watering. She blew out a long breath. “They’re lying.”