You Should See Me in a Crown(35)
We go for the extra point after that, and Quinn is the kicker. The ball soars perfectly through the air, and she turns to smile at us like she had no doubt it would.
It’s almost halftime before Quinn decides it’s time for us to try our luck and run the play again, only with me running to the left instead of the right. The red team is down by eight, and I can see Rachel getting visibly flustered. She snaps at Kaya Mitchellson, one of the poor souls currently ranked below me: “Stop dragging your gigantic, tragically uncoordinated feet and play the game already!”
When the play starts, I manage to get the ball and take off down the field again. I feel unstoppable as I run. I look into the stands to see Robbie jumping up and down, Britt pumping her fist in the air, and Gabi screaming as she records the whole thing on her phone. Even Stone actually looks excited. I’m soaring, I’m coasting. Nobody can touch me. I’m like a bird, graceful and—
“Ouch! And that has got to hurt!” the announcer shouts. “An illegal hit by Rachel Collins has taken out Lightning Lighty!”
“Uhnnnnnnn,” I moan from the ground. I open my eyes but close them quickly. I can feel the brightness of the stadium lights, and everything hurts. I feel like I’ve been hit by a semi. I think about sitting up but immediately decide against it. My body aches, but worse than that, I know every eye in the stadium is on me. I’m living through one of my biggest fears.
And then I remember what Robbie said, and I decide I will lay on the ground forever. I will play dead until everyone decides to go home. I will play dead until prom is over, and then maybe they will give me a posthumous scholarship for being ruthlessly maimed in the line of duty.
“OH MY GOSH!” I can hear Quinn’s gasp from above me as she grabs my face with both her hands. They’re incredibly soft and somehow not even a little bit sweaty even though we’re in the middle of a football game. “Why are you celebrating, Rachel? She’s dead!” I open my eyes when her voice raises to an octave only small dogs and people under thirty can register. “You killed her! Oh, Liz, you were so young!”
I tilt my head slightly to the left to look into the crowd.
“Quinn,” I manage to say quietly. The moment she hears my voice, Quinn’s tears stop, and her smile returns.
“Liz, you’re back!” She throws herself over my body, and I yelp in return. She sits up quickly and winces. “I’m sorry! I forgot about your fragile body and how you don’t like being touched.”
When she stands, I take a couple of calming breaths. I can move now that the initial shock has worn off, but I don’t try to get up just yet. I’m not maimed, as it turns out, but I can tell I’m going to have some wicked bruising where Rachel tackled me.
I see that the rest of the team has taken a knee down the field, and I’m shocked by how official this all feels. A ref is standing to the side with his hands on his hips, reprimanding Rachel. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but from the way her face is turning red and her foot is tapping on the ground, it can’t possibly be good.
As I look at the crowd, frozen and waiting for my reaction, I think about what Gabi would do.
I decide to give them a show.
“Lighty, you good?” Jordan is kneeling next to me now, his face a picture of concern. His skirt looks shorter now that his hairy knees are right beside my face. He puts a hand on my arm and squeezes gently. “You took that hit like a champ.”
I motion for him to lean in and he does.
“I’ll be fine,” I whisper. “But I need you to carry me off the field right now in the most dramatic fashion possible. I’ll explain later.”
His eyebrows knit together, but he doesn’t hesitate before scooping me up into his arms. As he does, the crowd erupts in cheers.
“Lighty Strong! Lighty Strong! Lighty Strong!” I don’t chance another look at the audience, but something tells me Gabi is at the heart of the cheering. Call it best friend telepathy, but I’m also sure she hasn’t put down her phone once throughout this entire ordeal.
Jordan whispers in my ear as we approach the field house. “What kind of tricks do you have up your sleeve, Lighty?” He’s got his half smile on as I look up at him.
I smile back.
“Just keep walking, Jennings.”
Jordan doesn’t set me down until we’re inside the field house. It’s so much quieter now; I feel like I can think clearly again. He gently lowers me onto one of the treatment tables, and I look to where a trainer would normally be if this were a real football game. I don’t think anyone was anticipating a full-fledged gladiator-esque battle out there today. And all before halftime, no less.
I ask him to grab my phone from the locker room, and when he comes back, he’s full of boundless energy. He hands it to me with a flourish.
“Lighty, I must say, you did not disappoint out there today!” He pushes my shoulder, and I wince. Between him and Quinn, my real injuries might be sustained just from, you know, people liking me too much. “My bad, my bad! But seriously, I wasn’t expecting you to bite it like that, but up until that point? You were moving. Nobody could catch you.”
“How’d you know I’d be able to do it?” I mumble. I think about what Quinn said about me being their “secret weapon,” and I suddenly feel weirdly shy. Weirdly seen.