Jockblocked: A Novel (Gridiron Book 2)(101)

But here we are—all thirty of us shoved into eight cars, SUVs, and vans—and ready to go.

I slide into the driver’s seat and put the Rover in gear. Is this what the captaincy is all about? Riding herd on a bunch of college football players who think they’re above the rules? I sigh when I realize that I used to be one of those guys. Back when Masters was in charge, I screwed around as much as anyone.

I had chicks in my room when I wasn’t supposed to just like Stoltzy. I was always forgetting something whether it was my jock, my shoes, or my phone. I thought by showing up to practice and then playing my heart out on Saturday, I had faithfully discharged all that was expected of me.

What an * I was to assume that I could lead on the field without worrying about stuff off the field. There’s a hella big difference between being a teammate and being a leader.

“Uh, Matty, we’ve got a problem,” Hammer says worriedly from the backseat.

“What’s that?” I glance up in the rearview mirror.

He holds up a black case. “I think I took your Luce’s insulin kit by mistake.”

My head jerks back so fast I nearly break my neck.

“What? How did you get that?” Our eyes clash in shock and dismay.

“I don’t know. This morning I came in to get my playbook and must’ve swept it into my backpack.”

“Holy shit.”

“Let me see.” Ace reaches behind and rips the case from Hammer’s hands. Ace opens it up and sure enough, her digital glucose monitor and several dosages of insulin lie nestled against the padding of her insulated case. He curses and slams his hand against the dash. “Goddammit, Hammer!”

“I know.” He sounds miserable and in the rearview mirror I can see him cradling his head in his hands.

“Holy shit,” I repeat. “What time is it?”

“Ten,” Jack supplies. He’s the only calm one in the entire vehicle. The two guys in the back—Darryl and Jesse—are wisely keeping quiet.

I do some quick calculations in my head. We left at eight. Chicago is three hours in the opposite direction and we have five hours left to get to Western. Curfew is at ten tonight. If I drive to Chicago from here, it’s three hours there and then eleven hours back home. I’ll never make it back in time for curfew, not even if I flew. I reach into the console and throw the phone at Hammer. “You search out the closest car rental place.” I point to Ace. “You text Luce right now and find out if she has any extras.”

“She doesn’t,” Ace says. “She has one kit. This is it.”

“Text her anyway.” Because we need to know.

Ace pulls out his phone and punches something in.

“Hammer, what’s the word?” I call back. My foot eases off the gas and I switch to the right-hand lane so my sudden snail’s pace doesn’t piss anyone off.

“Man, the closest rental place is two hours away.” We exchange sick looks in the mirror. Every mile I advance is a mile farther away from Luce.

She drove out of her way to come to me when I needed her and because of it, she’s going to suffer? No way. Not on my watch. “Call them. Book a car.”

“Would it be faster to fly?” Jack questions.

“No, closest airport is four hours north. He’ll be back at Western by the time he’d get on a plane.” This comes from Darryl in the back. They must all have their phones out now.

“She says she feels fine. That she won’t need an insulin shot until after the competition.”

“How will she know? Can she buy another blood monitoring thingy? She has to do it every hour!” The miles pass and each one puts more distance between Luce and her wellbeing.

Ace and I exchange a grim look. We both know Luce does not have an excess amount of funds.

“Heather’s got a call in to her dad to wire cash to them,” Ace reads. So the monitoring kit must be too expensive. I bet Luce is writhing with embarrassment.

“Thought that girl was made of money,” Jack asks.

“Her dad cut off her credit cards a few weeks ago,” I tell him. “She got a B on her midterm in Calculus.”

“She got cut off because of a B?” Jack’s mouth falls open. “What kind of shit is that?”

“The kind that turns you into a girl like Heather,” Ace replies. He holds up his phone. “Luce is going to drink some OJ and lie down.”

“That team has less money than my change cup,” I growl. There’s only one way to solve this for Luce and that is to get the kit to her. I can be there in three hours. “Hammer, how are you doing on getting me that rental?”

“You’ll never make it. Luce’s first match is at one. It’s already fifteen minutes past the hour. By the time you get the car rented and on the road, it’ll be like two or three. You won’t have the time.”

“I will if I speed.”

“You got to be back by curfew tonight.” We have a 10 p.m. curfew because of the spring ball game tomorrow. It’s a televised event. A shit ton of boosters will be there, and it could make a difference in what our pregame ranking will be in the fall.

“And I’ll make it. I’ll go and drop off the kit and turn around and come back.”

“That’ll give you zero hours of sleep and you’ll play like shit,” Ace notes.