Don’t blow it.
Don’t fail in front of your whole family.
J.D. gives his half-time speech. We’re winning, so he just makes a few defensive adjustments.
Second half.
Jaylen draws double coverage as Greyson predicted, but we start off with a run for two yards. On second down, I’m lined up inside indicating a short slant route. The snap comes, and I push my cleats into the ground, turn to the outside and sprint down the sideline. The ball spirals toward me.
I inhale.
Trust.
The ball hits my hands and stays in my grip. The crowd erupts and I run another ten yards before being shoved out of bounds.
The stadium roars as I head back to the sideline. This is how football is supposed to be. Teammates slap my helmet. Matt slaps my shoulder with his laminated play call sheet.
But two plays later, they send me back in and the ball skips through my fingers, bouncing off the turf.
Anger boils under my rib cage. Why did I catch it one time and not the others?
As I’m running off the field hearing chants of nepotism. “You’re only here because of your name.”
Jaylen pulls on my elbow, “Next one. Forget the last play. Only look forward.”
I know he’s sincere. That’s the kind of guy he is but his words land hollow anyway.
Matt walks over and hands me a headset. “The press box wants you.”
Great.
“Yeah?”
There’s a beat of hush, then a familiar voice. “You’re not breathing. Why won’t you listen to me?”
“Annika?” I’m confused because if she’s here again, why? Is she trying to make a name for herself? I must be completely broken. Part of me wonders if fixing me would look good on her résumé.
“Please for the love of God, just do what we talked about. We’re retraining your brain. You have to do it every single time.”
I stare up at the press box, unable to pick anyone out. “Got it. Are you here?”
“No, but I’m watching.”
The line clicks dead. Lowering the phone, I glance one more time at the press box.
I follow her directions for the rest of the game and I look like a head case out there, outwardly breathing and closing my eyes and sayingtrustaloud during every play.
We won the game.
My final stat line:
Three for eight with forty-four yards.
Not incredible, but better than last week when I caught zero passes.
EIGHT
PARKER