The Other Player 3k1933

Table of Contents

Title Page

SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS | www.feelgoodromance.com

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

FROM THE AUTHOR

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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Also By Suzanne D. Williams

SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS

www.feelgoodromance.com

© 2016 THE OTHER PLAYER by Suzanne D. Williams www.feelgoodromance.com www.suzannedwilliams.com All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

He that sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth not (Ps 15:4)

CHAPTER 1

“IT’S THIRD AND LONG ....” The announcer’s voice echoed off the high school grandstands, reverberating amidst the hum of enthusiastic fans, the blast of air horns, and down on the field, the shouts of the cheerleading squad. Pom-poms shimmering in the moist, night air, the girls of the Southside Eagles sprung up on the balls of their feet, kicking toned legs in encouragement to their faltering football team. “C’mon! You can do it!” Squad leader, twelfth grade English whiz, Dorothy Payne, stepped foremost of the group, her voice peppy, but her stomach in a knot. She scanned the players moving into position, the sea of grass-stained blue jerseys against the silver and black of the visiting team, the Piermont Raiders. Massive hulks with hard faces and enough testosterone to fill the ocean, making any forward progress against the Raiders had shown itself impossible for the majority of the game. Time after time, their brick wall of muscle and determination withstood any charge they could make. Now, here it was the last five minutes of the game, and the Eagles had one chance to score and salvage some pride. The buzz of the crowd lowered at the sight of Eagles’ quarterback, Drew Sault, preparing for the snap. He glanced down the line, left and right, then ducked into a crouch. Movement ceased amongst the players. Lungs full, breath held, they poised, tense, until the ball flicked backward, landing secure in his gloved hands. He stood, stepping in reverse, and swung his arm for the throw, but rushed by a lineman, released too soon, and the ball sailed outward in a crooked spiral. Time stood still, students rising in slow motion to their feet, mouths agape, hands lifted in dismay. The players on the field smashed into each other, their grunt and groan laced with drops of spittle. The ball, in a drunken arch, flew through the hands of the intended target, past anyone who could safely retrieve it, directly toward the Eagles cheer squad and a two hundred pound Raider who leapt into the air, plucking it from orbit. Off balance, he fell backward, the tips of

his shoes ing the field in bounds before smacking the ground hard and sliding four feet backward into Dorothy’s legs. She squawked and tumbled to the earth, face down, her chin smacking hard on the player’s padded chest. Stunned, her mouth stinging, she blinked in the blurry vision of his sweat-soaked face, conscious of the intensity of his gaze and his very firm, warm shape. He raised one hand to her cheek. “You’re hurt.” Wriggling from beneath her, he pushed to his feet, raising her up after him. He steadied her with one hand around her side. “Let me know when you can stand.” Dorothy pulled in a shaken breath. “I think ... I think I’m okay,” she said. She tipped her chin upward, meeting his gaze. Brow furrowed, lips puckered, worry shone in his dark gray eyes. A couple girls from the squad approached and behind them, the cheerleading coach, Mrs. Smolenski. “Young man, you’d better get back in the game,” she said, waving both hands in his direction. He stared at her for a moment, then at Dorothy. Mumbling a hasty, “I’m sorry,” he tucked the ball to his chest and returned to the field. The announcer’s voice rang out from the top of the stands. “Looks like she’s okay! An unfortunate incident ... but good to see cooperation from the opposite side ...” “We need to put some alcohol on that head wound,” Mrs. Smolenski responded in her ear. Dorothy submitted to her ministrations, wincing at the sharp sting of an alcohol pad. Taking a seat on the nearby metal bench, gradually, her head cleared, though a slight pain on her jaw remained. “He smacked you good.” She turned her gaze toward the speaker, close friend and fellow cheerleader, Ria Marcek.

Ria dropped down at her side, stabbing the toe of one sneaker into the turf. Her electric blue skirt pulled tight across tanned thighs. “He was cute.” Dorothy wrinkled her nose. “I suppose. He looked kinda fuzzy to me at the time.” “Girl, you know what they say about the big ones ...” Ria didn’t finish her statement, and Dorothy wasn’t sure she wanted her to. As much as she liked Ria, she tended to be crude at times. “Guess we lost again,” she said instead. “I feel bad for Drew.” He’d had a tough year, and his throwing an interception wouldn’t help him feel any better about it. Or help other students treat him nice. Ria’s head lifted, her gaze roaming the field. “Me too, and Piermont doesn’t even seem fazed.” She was right. Whereas the Eagles looked exhausted, the Raiders seemed barely tired at all. The girls fell silent, watching the game end, dispirited, then gathered the things left behind and made their way toward the gym. Drew appeared in front of her outside the double doors, his face begrimed, football uniform smeared with grass. Weariness sat heavy in his eyes, along with defeat and concern. “You okay?” he asked. He hovered one hand over her brow. She shrugged. “I’ll live.” She and Drew went back to elementary school where he was the boy tying her pigtails together. Now, he was one of her closest friends. Ria waved at her from the gym entrance. “We’re last. Everyone’s waiting.” Dorothy shuffled her feet. “I’ve gotta go. Talk to you later.” With regret, she left him in place and scooted inside. Fluorescent lights dangling from steel beams flickered sci-fi-like overhead. Six girls, in various forms of disarray, repacked unzipped duffle bags. Mrs. Smolinski clapped her hands, bringing them upright. “Good job tonight,” she said, her voice tinged with sadness. “We know we can’t always win ...”

“It’d be nice to win at all,” interrupted a girl in the circle. Mrs. Smolinski frowned. “Yes, but we have to hold our heads high when we don’t.” As true as that was, it wouldn’t help anyone’s feelings on Monday. Students would creep to class, dejected ... again. Tiredness seeped into the girls’ crestfallen faces. Mrs. Smolinski rotated her gaze around the semi-circle. “Practice next Tuesday,” she said. “Don’t forget. But, enjoy your weekend.” With a motion of her arm, the group broke up, everyone scattering in different directions. Dorothy swung her bag over her shoulder, glad to be headed home, but, stepping forward, came to a halt, Ria’s hand on her arm. Her fingers compressed, long, pink-painted nails digging into her skin. She nodded toward the gym entrance. “Your player,” she said. With that remark, she expected to see Drew again. He was always such a worry wart. But a different hulk blocked the double doors. She sucked in a breath. The visiting team usually left for home pretty quickly, so what was he doing here? She held the question inside and made her way in his direction. Stopping in front of him, her five-foot-four inch frame came barely to his shoulder height. “Hey,” he said, his weight leaned on one hip. A smudge of grime spanned his cheek. “They’re loading the bus, but I asked permission to come find you. I wanted to make sure ...” His gaze strayed to her brow, and he raised one hand, brushing his fingertips across. “Geez, I didn’t mean to do that.” “It was an accident,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll mend.” He stared for a moment then lowered his arm. “Well, I guess I’ve got to go, but ...” Twisting at the waist, he snagged a erby. “You have a pen?” The girl he’d stopped glanced up at him, her gaze curious, then dug a ball point from her purse. Taking Dorothy’s hand, he flipped it over and wrote hastily in her palm. “This is

my number,” he said, head bowed. “You’re going to call me tomorrow, so I don’t have to worry.” Her heart squeezed. It was sweet of him to care. He capped the pen and tossed it back to the girl, who immediately left. “Promise me,” he continued. Dorothy dipped her chin. “I promise. But I’ll be fine, really.” He didn’t seem too convinced. His mouth worked to the side, he curved one hand over his hip. “Just the same ...” The rumble and knock of a diesel bus took over the brief conversation and someone shouted. He glanced over his shoulder and reversed a few steps. “Don’t forget to call,” he said, halting. She nodded, her ponytail swishing between her shoulders. “I won’t.” He continued backward. “Oh, and the name’s Louis,” he called out. “Louis Buntz.” “Dorothy Payne,” she replied. “See you.” He nodded and was gone. Ria walked up behind her, taking a place at her side. “What was that all about?” Dorothy waved her palm in her face. “He gave me his number. I think he feels like my head’s going to fall off.” Ria snorted, a smile on her face. “More likely, he wanted to talk to the adorable, blonde cheerleader. You going to call?” Dorothy pursed her lips. “He was cute,” she said. “And maybe.”

LOUIS CLIMBED ON THE bus and took an empty seat midway in, falling back against the padding, his legs outstretched. He ran one hand over his short, brown hair and across his brow. “We trounced ‘em,” said a face hanging over the seat just in front. Donovan Conch, six-foot-two inches of seventeen-year-old steel, and the Raiders’ quarterback. Louis smiled and they bumped fists. “Hey ... what’s with you and the cheerleader?” a second voice asked. Louis turned his head to see fullback, Quintavius Owens, often called Q. “What do you mean, ‘what’s with him and the cheerleader’?” Donovan asked. His teeth showed white in the midst of his ebony face. “Boy wants to get him a lil sumpin’ sumpin’.” A chorus of laughter crisscrossed the bus, and Louis grinned. “Do you blame me?” “Not one bit,” Quintavius returned. “Though you could have introduced yourself first instead of smacking her upside the head.” “Great play, by the way ...” said a third voice from behind. “Ended things solid.” “Leave it to Buntz,” said another. “Buntz. Buntz. Buntz. Buntz.” A chorus of chants filled the bus. Louis, a silly grin on his face, lifted one hand in acknowledgement. He’d been too concentrated on the ball at the time to see the girl was standing there. His play had ended any hope the Eagles had of scoring, but he regretted doing it at her expense. “Aw ...” Q began. “He already has her wrapped up in those big arms of his.” He followed this remark with a kissing noise. More laughter ensued. Somewhere amongst the rowdy players, a voice said,

“Leave him alone. You’re just jealous.” The loud clap of their coach’s large palms turned the players around. Coach Waters positioned himself in full view of the team, his height brushing the top of his head against the bus’s ceiling. “Listen up!” he called, in his usual stern voice. “I know I’ve said this before, but today’s victory ...” “... doesn’t guarantee tomorrow’s success,” the players finished for him in a monotone. He smiled, crossing thick arms over his chest. “Good, you’ve been listening.” He nodded once. “Tonight’s game played out exactly how I expected, but we must continue to push if we want to make the championship. Hopefully, everything will align in our favor. But for right now, enjoy your victory ....” A round of cheers erupted at the end of his speech. He stood there a moment, apparently drinking it in, then revolved and took a seat. Louis stared at the back of his coach’s head before moving his gaze out the window. Street lights flashed past as well as the lights of a handful of late-night businesses remaining open. With the monotony of the drive, the boisterous talk around him faded, and his thoughts wandered. Victory was great, but looked like nothing against the size of the frustration that’d greet him at home. His good mood soured and resentment surfaced. Louis pictured his stepdad’s face. Nothing he ever said or did would cause him to forgive his stepdad’s part in his mom’s abandonment. Or the fact this many months and two apologetic phone calls later, her promise to come get him hadn’t materialized. She was full of excuses, but he was convinced those were all Steve’s fault. It’s harder than I thought. Now’s not a good time. Maybe by Christmas. Louis slid down in the seat, his spine forming a u. His stepdad, Steve Black, tried too hard to be nice. He’d buy him things, leave

them on his bed. Louis always tossed them in the closet, unopened. He also tried to take him places – movies, concerts. He even dragged him off for a beach weekend. And it’d been miserable, what with Steve asking him if he needed something all the time. Yeah, he needed his mom, not this faker. Louis allowed his bad mood to simmer from the football locker room, where he discarded his gear, all the way home. He parked in the drive, unwilling to get out. The porch light flipped on ... a sign Steve was watching ... and his discontent grew. Blowing out a breath, he ambled up the walkway, pausing outside the door long enough to sort-of clear his head, then opened it and entered. “Louis?” Louis frowned. He made a left, ignoring Steve’s call, and pushed down the hall. He’d barely entered his room, however, when Steve poked his head in. His grizzled hair poked this way and that, he offered his usual overworked smile. “How was the game?” Louis stared at him for a moment, not answering. “We won.” Steve’s face brightened. “That’s great. I would have come, but with work running ’til six, couldn’t get free.” “Not necessary.” Louis cut him off. Seriously, not necessary. He should never feel like he had to come to anything he participated in because then he’d be forced to explain who he was. “Of course, it’s necessary. I used to enjoy ...” Louis walked toward the door, using his bulk to force Steve out. “If you don’t mind, I’m tired. Think I’ll get a shower and turn in.” Steve’s face said he saw through his actions, but true to his nature, he didn’t argue. He nodded instead and reversed. Louis closed the door soundly. Much more of this and he’d go nuts. His mom was worthless, his stepdad

drowning him in attention. Football was his only outlet anymore. He’d rather be playing the game and thinking about his next move than deal with his sucky home life. The girl, Dorothy, popped into his head. He hoped she’d call. The feel of her curves pressed against his chest returned, and he wanted that more than anything. Another positive to think about that didn’t involve Steve. Louis shed his shirt and stepped into his private bathroom. Posing in front of the mirror, he flexed one arm. Who was he kidding? She’d seemed friendly, yeah, but no Eagle would want anything to do with a Raider. That required more of a compromise than he was sure she’d want to give. He wouldn’t hold his breath. He turned away and switched on the shower, letting the steam fill the room and the heat cleanse his brain of his troubled thoughts. The scalding water relaxed him further, and by the time he’d emerged, he was half-asleep. He closed his eyes, quickly drifting away, but shook awake at a thud from somewhere towards the kitchen. The faint sound of his name expelled a groan from his lips. “Louis?” His name came again. Pulling himself up, he dragged his feet across the house. He came to a halt in the kitchen doorway. Steve, in obvious pain, stared up at him from a place in the floor, his right leg twisted odd. “I think I’ve injured myself. I can’t move.” He winced, his voice shaking. Louis said nothing. “Maybe you should call 9-1-1.” Frustrated, Louis reached for the phone. He could only hope this would turn out to not be as bad as it looked, but had a sinking feeling he was wrong.

HER KEYS DANGLING ON one finger, her cell phone pressed to her ear, Dorothy inhaled, the scent of tonight’s supper still lingering in the house, and made her way from the foyer toward the kitchen. She paused in the dining room, her weight on one hip. “I’m fine ... just a bit of a headache. I’ll take two pills and sleep it off, so don’t worry about me. You promise you’re not going to beat yourself up about the game. I don’t think anyone’s going to hold one play against you ...” Because the game was far gone before that interception. She kept this thought to herself. Drew was having a hard enough time about it without her adding to the pressure. “Night. I’ll call you.” Disconnected, she continued ahead, meeting her grandmother’s gaze across the room. “How was the game, sweetie?” Dorothy kissed her grandmother’s wrinkled cheek. The familiar scent of dried lavender and hand lotion entered her nostrils. That smelled like home to her. Beginning at age eight, her grandmother had lived with them in an apartment her dad built in the garage. It had everything, a bedroom, small living area, bathroom, even a kitchenette. She always called it her “five hundred square feet of happiness,” though she spent as much time in the main house with them as alone out there. Her grandmother lifted a hand to her face. “What happened?” she asked, turning Dorothy’s chin sideways, her gaze rising to her forehead. “That’s a nasty knot.” Dorothy leaned her cheek against her grandmother’s shoulder, and her grandmother wrapped one arm around her, patting her sleeve. “It’s not so bad,” Dorothy replied. “I was in the way of a guy from the visiting team. He made a play right into me.” “Ouch.” Dorothy flipped her hand over, holding it under her grandmother’s nose. “But he gave me his number.” Her grandmother’s soft chuckle brought a smile to her face. She patted Dorothy’s shoulder with her hand. “You going to call?”

Ria had asked that same question, though with a different motive, and being truthful, she wanted to call, but was unsure now, time having ed, how wise that was. His good looks aside, she didn’t know this guy nor, because he went to another school, anyone who might recommend him. “Maybe after lunch tomorrow,” she said, ing it off. “I promised Mom I’d weed the back flowerbed in the morning.” “Then you should, but I imagine she can make time for you to sneak away.” Dorothy shut her eyes. Calling Louis wasn’t her only point of concern; her mom’s health was also on up there. Recently diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome, it sapped all her strength. Watching her go from a productive, happygo-lucky person to someone who could barely function was beyond excruciating. Her grandmother’s presence at home helped. When she was at school or a game, she knew her mom wasn’t alone and had someone there to care for her, especially since her dad often worked late. But that didn’t make the heartache go away. “You know, I when I met your grandpa ...” Her grandmother’s voice broke into her thoughts, and for the remainder of the evening, she muted any questions about Louis. The next day, however, her stomach fluttering, once more, she debated the call. Should she really a guy she didn’t know? He’d said he wanted to hear from her, insisted even, but probably by now it’d lost its importance. Or what if he was busy and she called at the wrong time? That might annoy him. Plus, what was there to say beyond that she was fine? Her cell in her hand, she stared down at his number, her mouth dry. “It’s one phone call.” One phone call and Louis Buntz, one boy who simply wanted to know if she was okay. With that, Dorothy downplayed the entire thing and dialed. It rang once, twice, three times, and voicemail picked up. What excitement she had dimmed. He’d obviously changed his mind. She shouldn’t be surprised. He probably had interests more important than hearing from her, especially since she went to the competing school.

She hung up, not leaving a message. “Oh well,” she said, her hand falling slack. Yet, the words leaving her lips, disappointment shoved upwards, sharp.

CHAPTER 2

A SCOWL ON HIS FACE, Louis tossed the TV remote in Steve’s lap and reversed. “I’m going out.” Never mind whatever care his stepdad needed, he either put some space between them or he’d explode. Spinning on his heel, he left him twisted uncomfortably on the couch and returned to his car. The doctor said Steve had pulled a muscle in his calf, something that would heal in time, but leave him dependent for a while. Half a night at the emergency room, followed by the morning running around after him, had sunk his already poor spirits even lower. The phone had rang, and he’d known it was Dorothy, but been unable to convince himself to answer. The last thing a girl like her needed was to be around him right now. He drove with no destination and ended up in the parking lot of the school practice field. Empty, it looked different, calm, peaceful. In his head, however, he saw the hustle and bustle of practice hours after school. He heard the coach call, his shrill whistle signaling plays, and the grunt and groan of his fellow players. Out there, he fit in; he knew what to do, how to respond, and often, what would happen next. At home, he was the needle tossed into a haystack ... overwhelmed and lost. He’d been that way since his mom took off, and truthfully, he missed her. He didn’t understand her behavior, but in his head, Steve was a constant reminder of it, salt rubbed over and over in the wound. His being helpless now made things so much worse. He’d apologized, but that’d rubbed him raw. No amount of regret could make up for the damage that’d been done. Cranking, Louis pulled out of the lot and continued ahead. Several turns and a fifteen minute drive later, he entered a long residential street. Identical houses lined either side of the road, the only differences minor ones: the curve of the driveway, changes in landscaping, a decorative flag, or alternate mailbox. Aiming for the loop at the end, he turned the wheel to circle back the way he’d come, but sight of a girl bent over a small flowerbed brought him to a halt.

Dorothy, her perfect round bottom tucked in a tight pair of red shorts, tugged weeds from the scattered mulch and deposited them in a small plastic bucket. His throat tightened, and he coughed. She was great. Why had he refused to answer that call? His reason stabbed him in the chest ... his stepdad and his resulting bad mood. Rolling forward, Louis glanced ahead, but spotted Dorothy again in the corner of his eye. She sat back on her heels, her gaze twisting toward the street. Feeling awkward, he pulled up on the curb and shifted into park. Dorothy stood, dusting her fingers off on the legs of her shorts, and made her way toward his car. He rolled the window down. “Hey ... I ... was just driving by ...” Which sounded lame, though it was true. “I didn’t know you live here.” “I called.” And he’d deliberately avoided answering. She wouldn’t know why and probably had the wrong impression, but explaining required too much he didn’t want to say. “Had a family emergency,” he replied. “I’m sorry I missed it.” He meant that, especially now, looking at her. His gaze traveled across to the knot on her brow. It’d turned several shades of blue overnight and swollen somewhat. She seemed conscious of it, reaching upward to press on it. “I probably should have had a doctor look at it ... you know, for something more serious, but I didn’t want to be away from home so long. It only hurts a little.” He offered an apologetic smile. “I am sorry. For what it’s worth, it doesn’t take away from ... from ...” He wavered in offering the compliment, then blurted it. “From how pretty you are.” Her cheeks pinked. “I ... I was thinking ...” he continued. Thinking that avoiding her to hide his lousy home life sounded noble, and maybe she wouldn’t want to be seen with a Raider, but just the same, she was a welcome distraction and him, a fool, if he drove off without asking her out. Twice now he’d found himself in her path. That had to be a sign. Her gaze turned hopeful, raising his confidence.

“If you wanted ...” “Dorothy?” An older woman called from the front steps, her hand buried in the folds of a floral skirt. Dorothy glanced behind. “Be right there,” she called. The woman stood in place, staring in their direction, even after Dorothy’s gaze returned. “My grandmother,” she explained. “She lives with us.” “Oh, cool. Anyhow ...” Louis inhaled. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go somewhere sometime ... on a date. But if you’re busy, then I certainly understand and ...” “Yes.” He halted, mid-sentence, his fingers tightening on the wheel. “Next Saturday?” he asked. “I can pick you up at, say, seven.” “Saturday’s perfect.” “Dorothy?” Her grandmother called again. “Sorry, I gotta go ...” She stepped backwards. He nodded. “Saturday then.” Her cheeks colored further, and she waved as she made her way back up the lawn. He gazed after her, then tapped the gas, but found his mood lifted higher than it’d been. It was nice to have something to look forward to, or someone, in this case, and maybe not think about his stepdad so much ... if at all. Then again, maybe he owed him for falling. Otherwise, he might not have driven down her street. “Not going to thank him,” he said to himself. That was simply asking too much.

DOROTHY FOLLOWED HER grandmother into the house, shedding her shoes just inside the door, and ducked her gaze away from her grandmother’s knowing look. Speeding her steps, she hoped to scoot by without speaking, but as expected, her grandmother’s gentle touch brought her to a halt. She didn’t bring up Louis’ visit, however. “Your mom went to lie down. She asked to see you.” Dorothy nodded, meeting her gaze, for a moment, then continued ahead, stopping by the guest bath to wash her hands. Outside her mom and dad’s bedroom, she halted and sucked in a breath. It never got easier facing her mom. All she could think of, since she’d been diagnosed, was how much things had changed. In her mind, she ed foot races down the hall, dancing the waltz around the coffee table, but now, even something as simple as a tea party, if she wanted to do it, would be impossible. One hand flat to the door, she pushed it inward and her memories were replaced by the exhaustion on her mom’s face. “You wanted to see me?” Her mom nodded toward the bedside chair. “Come sit.” Dorothy obeyed, sinking into the worn cushion, her hands folded in her lap. Her mom’s brow creased. “What’s this about a boy driving by?” Dorothy nervously licked her lips. “It was Louis, the guy from the football game. He didn’t know I lived here ...” she added, seeing the question posed on her mom’s face. Which made him driving down her street strange. Her mom was clearly thinking the same thing. “He asked me on a date next Saturday.” And she’d agreed before he could completely get the question out. How did that make her look? Desperate? She had been a little. Seeing him there and hearing him ask, the word had just fallen out. “Sweetheart, we don’t know anything about this boy.” “He goes to Piermont, like I said.” Dorothy hastened to comfort her mom. And he had a car and money for them to go out, which meant he either worked or

someone provided him with funds. “He apologized again for running into me.” Surely, that said something. “Please, Mom, I’m sure he’ll come in and introduce himself.” Her mom’s worry faded, a soft smile forming. “I’m sure he will.” She closed her eyes. “We’ll talk about it more later.” Dismissed, Dorothy left the room. She faced her grandmother again in the kitchen. “Is she ...?” Her hands in the sink, her grandmother paused. “As good as can be expected. Some days are better than others. Today, I suspect it’s hard watching her baby grow up.” Dorothy bit her lip. She understood that. It was hard watching her mom grow worse, and maybe that was why she’d agreed to go out with Louis so quick ... for just one evening to forget. “Can I help you finish up?” she asked. Her grandmother smiled. “I’m almost done, but I was thinking about baking a pie. How ’bout you get out the flour and a bowl? Dessert makes everything better.” Not her mom. Tomorrow, she might be a little stronger, but then again she might not. And she’d be forced to watch her struggle. Her back turned, Dorothy did as she was told, digging in the pantry for the flour storage container, but couldn’t shake the feeling as she toted it to the counter that Saturday was a long ways off.

STEPPING OFF THE BUS, Dorothy followed the influx of students through the side door of the school building to her locker. Ria’s cheerful face popped immediately into view. Cheerful but irritating because she also wore her I-wantto-know expression. Before she could speak, however, Drew ed their group. Drew she’d known longer than Ria, all the way back to third grade. He’d been shorter than her then, in fact, the smallest boy in the class. Now, standing six feet, with his muscular physique, you wouldn’t know it. “Ria says one of those clowns from Piermont asked you out.” She heard the snap in Drew’s voice and ignored it. Piermont having trounced them just days ago would naturally make him irritable. The final play being his fault would make that worse. “He asked me to call because, as you can see, he knocked me pretty hard.” “But he did ask you out.” Ria leaned further into view. Dorothy rolled her eyes. She spun the combination on the door of her locker and, with a clank, tugged it open. She slid her first two period books in her hand with the needed folders. “Of course, he did,” Drew said. He sounded jealous. The first time Dorothy could recall him talking like that, and she flicked him a glance. Despite their friendship, strangely, they’d never gotten serious. Looking closer at that, she supposed he flirted. But she’d written that off as them being close friends. “What’s he got that I don’t?” Maybe she shouldn’t have. His question seemed to affirm it, and her stomach uneasy, she forced herself to face him. There was a bite to his voice. Drew could, at times, be intimidating. Football season usually enhanced it, it being a losing season ... She shrugged. She wouldn’t let him get to her. “He asked, and I said yes.” “Traitor.”

He may have tried to make the word sound playful, but she heard the unrest in his tone. Then he flashed her a playful smile. Unsure if that was a positive or not, she didn’t respond. They weren’t ten any longer and his moods were not always easy to read. “I’m not switching schools,” she said evenly, “and not planning on talking about football.” “Not planning to talk at all,” Ria added. Dorothy’s face warmed, and uncomfortable, she pushed past both of them, slamming her locker in pseudo-anger. Her feet aimed for the stairs, before she could open the stairwell door, Drew did it for her. “Hey, Dot ... Didn’t mean to bend you out of shape.” Dot, something only he called her and usually when he was upset. She looked up at his brown-eyed gaze. “I’m not bent out of shape. But you’ve never asked me out, now, have you?” When he didn’t respond, she turned. “I have to go.” She held in place only a moment and continued upstairs. Drew didn’t follow, but she had the feeling he thought about it ... with regret. She slid in her usual seat in class, only to face Ria again. Ria, her perfect brown curls, as usual, all in place. Ria’s eyebrows lifted. “Care to explain what’s up with you and Drew? Seems like he’s been following you around a lot lately.” Dorothy considered that, her brow drawing tight. Had Drew been following her around? Maybe. But, once again, he hadn’t asked her out. And now she had a date with someone else, one she wanted to keep. “Would you go out with Louis?” she asked. Ria tilted her head. “Louis? Is that his name? Yeah, probably. Still, you’ve known Drew forever.” Which meant what? She didn’t ask, moving her gaze to the front of the room. She’d handle Drew. She would not call off the date with Louis.

Drew appeared in the hallway when class was over. “Can we talk?” he asked. Dorothy nodded and trailed after him down the hallway to the inset doorway of the custodial closet. Here, her back to the door’s cold surface, she hugged her books to her chest. Drew’s broad shoulders blocked her exit. Size-wise, from her recollection, Louis was bigger, clearly a defense player. Drew, on the other hand, was the typical trim quarterback. But, comparing the two, her face flamed and she exhaled, a new revelation fitting in place. She’d never thought of Drew as boyfriend material. He’d always just been ... Drew. “When’s your date with Piermont?” he asked, one hand in his pocket. Surprised, her eyebrows drew together, tight. “Saturday. Why?” “Go out with me Friday after the game.” “Drew ...” “Hear me out,” he continued, cutting her off. “You want to see Piermont. Fine. But you see me first.” “This isn’t a competition.” He hesitated for a moment. “Isn’t it?” he asked, at last. “I’ve known you longer. I get first dibs.” Guilt picked at her. She was the one who’d mentioned he hadn’t asked. He’d clearly taken that as permission to do so. Plus, he was right. They’d known each other a long time. Refusing him would, therefore, be extra-unkind. Just the same, how could she date two boys in one week? And how would her seeing Drew the night before make Louis feel? We don’t know anything about this boy. Her mom’s voice spoke in her head. No, she didn’t, yet another reason not to refuse Drew. “Please, Dot.” Drew’s imploring expression further shamed her.

“Okay, fine. But I’m not required to report to you how my date with him went.” The fact he didn’t like that was written all over his face, but he’d have to deal. She wouldn’t play one off the other, would, instead, hope after Saturday night, she’d make up her mind. And not spend all day Sunday wondering what happened next.

THEIR VICTORY FRIDAY night continued to affect the mood in the school hallway, students cheerful and upbeat. More than one slapped him on the back as he ed by, considerably slowing his progress. “Excellent play, Mr. Buntz.” His English teacher, Mrs. Paulson gave him a thumbs up. He nodded and tried his best to look appreciative, though after his long weekend, he had a hard time feeling it. Steve had been apologetic Sunday, repeatedly offering lame regrets for, as he called it, “mes his weekend”. Minus an excuse to escape, he’d been forced to babysit and endure it. He sauntered ahead, intent on reaching the stairs, and shoved aside his remembrance of Steve. Perky brunette cheer captain, Melinda Horne, stepped into his path. A coy smile on her lips, her green eyes wide, she twisted back and forth at the waist. Melinda was cute, if he ignored the warning label taped to her chest. Hard to do, given the reputation she’d had lately. “I knew if anyone could make that catch, it’d be you,” she said. He doubted that seriously. Melinda knew a lot about cheerleading, but, it seemed to him, next to nothing about anything else. She’d never impressed him as particularly smart or skilled. She was, however, determined to get his attention, and she’d gotten it, just not in the way she’d planned. “I have to get to class,” he said. He didn’t wait for her response, but pushed past, rushing in the stairwell and taking the steps two at a time. Swinging through the upstairs doorway, he collided with Donovan, the impact making an audible smack. “Whoa ... the game’s over, big guy. What’s the rush?” The question left his mouth and, in the next breath, his lips pressed tight, Donovan’s gaze traveled behind him, down the stairs. His manner changed abruptly. “Dude ... crazy play ...” Grabbing his shoulders, he twisted them both into the upstairs hall and to the right. There, they straightened and kept walking until well out of Melinda’s view. “The piranha ...” Donovan said. “She’s got it bad, and frankly, I don’t blame you

for ducking her. After how she treated Pratt ...” He didn’t finish his statement, but it wasn’t necessary. Everyone school-wide knew about Melinda and Pratt’s huge breakup, and no guy in his right mind wanted to be next. He just wished she hadn’t picked him. “Wait ... that’s not all that’s bugging you. Your Eagle didn’t land?” Louis couldn’t help but smile, and Donovan’s grin responded. “I see. Good for you.” In the next second, his gaze sparked. “I have an idea. When’s the date?” “Saturday.” “Perfect. I’m thinkin’ of having a little party ... last minute, but I think I can get my dad on board. Yeah ...” He nodded. “A party. I’ll make a big deal about it for the rest of the week and make sure Melinda is invited.” Melinda? “Why?” Donovan patted his back. “Because you’re going to stop by with your new thing and show her you’re off the market.” Louis slouched on one hip. He appreciated Donovan’s efforts, but taking an Eagle to a Raider party didn’t seem like a good idea. Nor did parading her in front of a girl known for revenge. Plus, Dorothy’d agreed to the date, yeah. That didn’t mean she’d want a second one, especially not if he freaked her out. “I don’t know ...” “C’mon, we’re not that bad, and I personally don’t care she goes to a loser school ...” He coughed as he spoke. “Chances are no one will know that anyway.” Still, Louis hesitated. “You show up late,” Donovan continued. “The party will be in full swing, and it won’t seem like we’ve set this up. It’s perfect. You want to ditch Melinda or not?”

He did, and maybe, like his friend said, no one would realize who Dorothy was. He could mention it in advance, make sure she was comfortable. They could always back out if she wasn’t. “Okay, but don’t say it’s for me. You want to throw a party, that’s on your head.” Donovan stood taller, his smile spreading. “You can thank me later when this all works out.” The warning bell rang, and they split, heading in opposite directions. Louis ran to class, entering just as the final bell sounded. His teacher spotted him and clapped one hand on his shoulder. “Great game! Those Eagles never had a chance.”

CHAPTER 3

HER LONG WAIT FOR SATURDAY stretched even longer while enduring Drew’s constant attention. He was subtle though. On the surface, he acted the same way he always had, made the same stupid jokes. He still picked at her lunch tray as if he were going to take it. He even walked her to class several times ... with no mention of their date. He acted completely “hands off”. Yet, that very attitude added to the pressure she felt, and come Friday afternoon, Dorothy wasn’t sure how the night would unfold. In her mind, their friendship complicated things. How was she supposed to act once alone with him? Different or the same? And, in response, how would he behave? He’d always been Drew ... a nice guy she horsed around with. Now, he wanted her to be serious? She hadn’t said anything to her parents or grandmother about it, figuring she’d wait until the last minute and say she was going out with friends. No need to make things worse on herself with some lengthy explanation that probably wouldn’t make much sense to them. Therefore, she held silent until dressed for the game, one foot practically out the door. “Might be home late. We’re going to get a bite when it’s over. I have my cell.” She waved it in her parents’ view, relieved when they motioned her on. But lined up on the sidelines, her gaze met Drew’s, and she wasn’t so relaxed anymore. Even from this distance, she knew what he was thinking. Her nervousness grew. Ria popped up at her side. “What’s the story?” Telling Ria was less harmful than telling her parents, but given her comments on Monday, Dorothy questioned the wisdom of it. At the same time, she could really use some advice. She chewed on her lip. “I sort of promised Drew a date ... after the game.” That she’d hidden this all week showed on Ria’s face. Ria’s manicured eyebrows arched. “After you told him you were going out with

the guy from Piermont?” She nodded. “He asked because of that, and I ... I couldn’t say no.” “You’re dating two guys at once? I know you didn’t tell your other player.” Dorothy scrubbed the toe of her sneaker in the turf. “It’s no big deal. Nothing will probably come of either one.” Ria’s expression was mixed. “Maybe or maybe not, but it isn’t fair to play them both.” “You told me to call,” Dorothy argued. Last thing she needed tonight was more guilt. Ria frowned. “I asked if you’d call and said if it was me, I would. I did not tell you what to do. And because you want to know ... if Drew had asked me out and I were you, I’d have gone out with Louis, since he asked first, and not promised to do both. That said, you’ve known Drew long enough that I’d think he’d be easy to figure out.” But he wasn’t for that same reason. Regardless, she was on the hook to date Louis and Drew and could only hope the situation would improve after tonight. Midway through the game though, her doubts about the evening returned. Drew’d been hit hard all night by a school that they’d beaten many times before, and discontent surfed through the grandstands, the unhappy crowd calling jeers in his direction. “Replace him!” shouted an irate patron, pumping his fist. “Hard to find the will to cheer in this slaughterhouse,” said one of her cheer team . Dorothy winced. “Let’s do number five.” They had to keep going or things would go from bad to worse. Lining up, her hands on her hips, she prepared to start the drill, but paused as Drew made the count. The ball snapped into his hands, and he stepped in reverse, his arm pulled back for a throw. Releasing it, however, he tossed the ball almost vertical. It wobbled,

briefly, then slipped easily into a visiting player’s hands. Tucking it beneath his arm, the player ran, unheeded, into the end zone. The crowd fell silent, the late summer air suddenly ice cold. Her gaze met Ria’s, but she couldn’t figure out if her friend was more sorry for Drew and the team or for her. “It’s like he wants us to lose,” a cheer team member said. Her chest tight, Dorothy lifted her chin. It had seemed that way, but they were wrong. “Number five. Everyone ready?” She curved her hands over her hips. “And set ...”

MOROSE, DREW REARRANGED his fries from shortest to longest on the wax paper wrapper, and his chin dipped, the top of his still-wet hair glistening. Dorothy squirmed, unsure what to say to him. She couldn’t stand to see him this depressed and ought to do ... something. “Hey, why don’t we go to the bridge?” His gaze lifted, his eyes darkening, and she gulped. Had she thought it out, she probably wouldn’t have mentioned the bridge. Asking to go there was tantamount to saying she wanted to make out, it being a favorite hangout for teen couples. But she hadn’t had that in mind, and he ought to know her well enough to realize it. His expression spoke differently though. Her mouth dried. “Fresh air w-will ... h-help us both.” And it did have a nice view. He didn’t respond right away, then wadded his fries up in the wrapper and rose. He tossed the crumpled paper in the trash and waited for her to fall in at his side. Her nerves rattled on the way back to his car, yet she said nothing, cramming her hands in her lap, her eyes on the road as they traveled. Ten minutes later, Drew parked at the base of the bridge, and she wished she’d thought of anything else but this. “Let’s get out,” he said. Hopeful he was trying to ease things, Dorothy obeyed and wandered to the edge of the embankment. The bridge was actually an over across the highway. Spanning the more rural areas, the darkness of the overgrown grass lining it sat in stark contrast to the busy roadway far below. Cars whizzed past, their headlights cutting through dense early fog, taillights disappearing, ruby-like, in the distance. A shiver raced down her spine, and she wrapped her arms across her chest, rubbing her fingers up and down beneath her short sleeves. Drew closed one hand over her shoulder and tugged her back around. “I’m sorry about the game ...” she blurted. He’d been strangely quiet since they’d left school. She, of course, put that down

to the game. His poorly thrown ball had cost them the win. “I don’t want to talk about the game.” “O-okay ... pick a topic then.” He tilted his head, his lips puckered, then reached for her. Stiff, she stumbled toward him, allowing him to press up against her. He was fit, his muscles tight, a dream guy for any girl. Why then was being close to him so difficult? Once more, because of the game? There’d been a lot of nasty comments when everything ended, not to mention whatever was said once the team went in the locker room. Setting all that aside would be difficult for anyone. She, herself, would have a hard time sleeping tonight, wound up over their defeat. How much worse would it be for him? “Don’t go tomorrow night.” Dorothy wriggled, trying to put some space between them. “Drew, don’t do this.” Drew frowned. “What do you want to be with a Raider for?” “I told you not to ask me about that, and that includes guilt-trips beforehand.” Ria’s comments had done a good enough job of laying on the guilt without Drew adding his complaints to it. “You ought to feel guilty,” he said. “I’ve been your friend for years, yet some ... clown ... knocks into you and you’re all over him?” “Drew ...” “You know why I screwed up the game tonight?” Drew continued, his voice raising. “All I could think about was you going out with Piermont. Thought of him touching you ...” Dorothy snorted. “Oh, that’s great. Blame the loss on me.” “I’m not blaming it on you,” he snapped. “I’m blaming it on me thinking about you, and that I blame on this other player of yours.”

“Because he’s responsible for what goes through your head.” “In a way, yeah.” Incredulous, Dorothy gave a huff and reversed. Drew stretched one arm, caught hold of her wrist, and dragged her back. She planted her feet, the heels of her shoes sinking into the soft soil. “If you’d sent him packing, I wouldn’t have felt threatened.” “Threatened? Who’s threatened you? Right now, the only threat I see is coming from yourself. I’m sorry about the game. I wish I could make you feel better ...” “So make me feel better,” he said. His voice deep, he curved his hand on the back of her head and turned her face upwards. He lowered his lips toward hers. Upset, she wrenched sideways, and as a result, his mouth landed near her ear. Angry, he tightened his grip and tried again. “Drew ...” Dorothy stepped on his toes in an effort to get away. She’d never pictured herself kissing Drew, but even if she had, it shouldn’t be like this. He gave a low-volume growl, and taking a firmer hold, pushed her beneath the bridge. “Drew ... What are you doing?” The last word blasted from her, her spine smacking hard on the concrete pylons. His lips met hers again, hard, one hand grasping beneath her shirt, and desperate to get loose, she jabbed her nails into the base of his neck. He squawked, releasing her with an oath, and freed, she dodged around him and ran. He had her things, her purse and cell, but no way was she going back for them. If she had to walk all the way home, she would. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring further what little of the landscape the fog hadn’t hidden, and the night’s chill crept through her clothing.

HOME GAMES MEANT HE’D be done playing and back in his bedroom way too early. Tonight was no exception. They’d beaten their opponent handily, heard the usual I’m-proud-of-you victory speech, and gone their separate ways. He’d had the opportunity to go out for a bite with his friends, but the sight of Melinda staring back at him caused him to refuse. He’d rather talk to Steve. At least, he thought so until he got there. “Another win?” his stepdad asked from the couch. Louis nodded and turned away. “Louis, if you could stay for ... for a moment. I ... need to talk to you.” He sounded nervous, which wasn’t too unusual. Steve forever acted like he was slightly afraid, and being truthful, he’d fostered it, wanting to keep his stepdad under his thumb. Louis tossed him an annoyed glance, but didn’t retrace his steps. Steve, his injured leg outstretched, tried to stand. He wobbled in his effort, a hiss leaving his lips. Once more, Louis held steady, not offering any assistance. Upright, at last, Steve drew in a breath and bent down for a manila envelope. He held it against his chest, faltering. “I’ve been trying to decide the best way to tell you this. I know things between us haven’t been great, and really, there’s only a few months left until you’re eighteen. But I thought ... maybe if I did this ... you’d forgive me?” The last bit emerged, a question. Steve fumbled with the envelope, as if making up his mind, then extended it. “Take it,” he said, his hands quivering. Reluctant, Louis sauntered over and obeyed. He pulled several legal forms from inside, flipping them over, his brow drawn. “What are they?” “Your mom has asked me for a divorce.” Louis stiffened. “I suppose it was inevitable. If she’s not happy ...” Steve paused. “I guess that’s

not important right now. I won’t fight it. It’s her decision. But ...” He moistened his lips. “I asked her for one thing, said I’ll give her everything else she’s asked for ... though she doesn’t want the house ... so we’re safe.” We. Louis caught hold of the word, his stomach twisting. “She isn’t asking much alimony either. I should have more than enough to feed us.” Us. There it was again, that he was still stuck here. Steve did his best to straighten, smoothing his rumpled shirt, and bobbled in the motion. “I told her she’d not done right by you, begged her to call, and speak with you herself. I’m sorry, Louis, but she refused.” Stung, Louis’s grip on the forms tightened, and they crinkled in his palm. “So I told her to let you go. I would adopt you. That’s the paperwork. It’s all but done ... just needs the judge’s signature.” Louis reeled, distancing himself. His mom, who he’d laid his hopes on, had given him up? To Steve? She didn’t want him? “Louis ... I thought ... thought we could start over,” Steve continued. He tried to walk forward, but twisted his ankle and fell against the wall. Louis continued to reverse. “You don’t have to call me ‘dad’. I know you’re too big for that. But maybe we can form a truce?” Louis walked backwards, out of the living room and into the foyer. “Louis?” Out of his stepdad’s sight, he whirled, yanked the front door open and, leaving it ajar, fled. He drove recklessly, not paying any attention to his route, and the fog swallowed him, further muddying his view. He flew around a curve, his tires catching the edge of the verge, and raced down an unknown street, intent only on outrunning his pain.

A stop sign leaped out at him, too quick. He overcorrected to avoid it and spotted a person directly in his path. He spun the wheel again, the car twisting counterclockwise, and came to a stop in the middle of the street. His heart pounding, his chest tight, he gripped the wheel, then it occurred to him to look for the person he’d seen. He rolled down his window, craning his head out, and spotted a girl. “Dorothy?” “Louis?” What was she doing here? “One moment. Just let me ...” Edging the car onto the side of the road, he parked and exited, his door remaining open. She crossed the lanes, her arms curved over her chest. “You’re cold,” he said. “I think ...” Reaching into the back of his car, he dug through his things and shook out his Piermont Senior Jacket. He draped it over her shoulders. It was huge on her, but she seemed grateful. She tugged the edges closed. “What are you ...?” They both spoke at once, ending the question with a couple jittery laughs. “Just out driving,” he said. “I should have ... slowed.” His excuse sounded lame, but she seemed to accept it. “I heard a car coming, but couldn’t see it for all the fog.” Then again, her excuse was questionable. He gazed at her, unspeaking. Her eyes rimmed red, her face flushed. Had she been running from someone? It wasn’t his place to ask, but he couldn’t leave her here. “Can I give you a lift?” She bit her lip. “I’d like to go home, but I’m not sure ...” He understood her discomfort. “You want me to call someone then?” “Would you?”

He nodded. “Here ...” Reaching into his pocket, he dug out his cell and extended it to her. Their fingers brushed, and they paused. Louis released the device. “I’ll stay until whoever arrives,” he said. She glanced down at the phone, dialed a number, and raised it to her ear. “Ria?” Dorothy’s voice cracked. She made a slight cough. “I need you to come get me. I’m ...” She paused. “... a half mile or so north of the bridge.” The bridge? Louis trailed his gaze over her again. Red marks shone on her wrist, her hair was mussed, and she had a tiny cut on her lip. Who had done that to her? The anger he’d felt for Steve transferred to her unknown assailant. Headlights cut through the fog. A voice called out. “Dot?” Dorothy shrunk back. “I’ll wait,” she mumbled into the phone. She reversed, almost hiding behind him. “Dot? I’m sorry ...” The car slowed. Louis looked down at her. “You want me to get rid of him?” She bobbed her head. Holding the driver’s side door, he waved her into the seat, shutting it behind her. “Stay there,” he said. With determined steps, he crossed the road until even with driver. He recognized the guy behind the wheel instantly. The Eagles’ quarterback, Drew Sault. “You ...” Drew said, his gaze narrow. Louis contemplated his response. His fists curled, his brain screamed to pound the guy. He’d evidently frightened her and, in his mind, deserved whatever he got. It’d be easy, not really a fair fight. He was taller and wider than Drew, weighed more than him by about thirty pounds. One swing. Even if he hit him just once, it’d be worth it. Yet his arm hauled back, his muscles tensed, what came out sounded a lot like Steve. “She’s chosen to walk away,” he said, his voice deep. “You need to go home.”

Drew sat there, for a moment, in contemplation. Louis nodded toward Dorothy’s purse. “You can give me that, too.” He did, unspeaking, then without a word, tapped the gas and was gone. Louis made his way back to his car. “He’s gone,” he said, holding out her purse. Dorothy nodded, burying it in her lap, and his heart squeezed. She looked so small and vulnerable, as if tonight she’d lost her best friend. He wondered what the story was, but didn’t ask. He stood by the door, instead, until a girl drove up to get her. Dorothy went to shed his jacket, but he waved her off. “Keep it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She offered him a weak smile. “Definitely.”

“SPILL. I’M DRIVING around until you do.” Dorothy closed her eyes. Louis’s jacket smelled like him, broad and wide and musky. It felt safe, as well. He felt safe, and she couldn’t explain that, couldn’t explain why they seemed to connect so well. “I’m waiting.” Dorothy inhaled. “Drew and I got in a fight. I took off and ran into Louis.” “On the side of the road?” He’d been upset about something, startled he’d almost hit her. At the time, she’d been more worried about avoiding Drew. But looking back, both things had kept her from riding home with him. As well as, having to explain to her mom why the boy from Piermont dropped her off after Southside’s game. It’d be better for him to meet them tomorrow and everything to be above board. “What were you doing at the bridge?” Ria asked. “It was stupid. Drew was depressed ... over the game ... over me ... I don’t know. I thought ...” Thought if they kept sitting there, him playing with his fries, she’d lose her mind. “I just suggested it, not thinking, but he was too willing.” “And you’re surprised?” Dorothy angled herself toward Ria, her eyes flicking open. “I shouldn’t be?” “You’re naïve,” Ria replied. “He’s a guy. He has a thing for you. You should have seen it.” She should have, but she hadn’t, and now everything lay in ruins. A sob caught in her throat, emerging as more of a whimper. “Oh, geez ...” Ria circled the wheel and pulled into a shopping center, putting the car in park. She leaned across, opening her arms, and Dorothy buried her face on her shoulder and wept. She didn’t want to date Drew. She didn’t want to kiss Drew. She was sure of that

now. But she also didn’t want their friendship destroyed either. Only now it was. Why had he behaved like that? It wasn’t like him at all. “You were right,” she hiccupped. Ria pushed her to an arm’s length. “I should have told him no.” But would that have prevented this? Maybe he’d only acted that way because she’d pitted him against Louis. Then again, she’d not intended to do that. So was it really her fault? Her phone buzzed, and she reached for it. But seeing Drew’s number, she didn’t answer. He’d call and call and call now. Once she got home, she’d have to turn it off. “I want to be his friend,” she said. Ria sighed. “There comes a point when a guy and a girl can’t just be ‘friends’. Maybe you’ve reached it.” But she sounded uncertain in that pronouncement, and Dorothy wavered. “Your hero rescued you,” Ria added. Dorothy sniffled, a smile finding its way out. He had. She stared at her fingers again, curling and flexing them. “But I wouldn’t show up to school in that jacket ... you know, if tomorrow works out. Some things the student body will not be willing to forgive.” And the cheer captain dating a player from Piermont would be one of them. Though in her eyes, his heart compared to Drew’s looked like gold.

CHAPTER 4

“LOUIS.” Steve rocked forward with the apparent intent to sit up. But Louis waved him back in place, and he collapsed, his grizzled head falling back on the sofa pillow. The television cast flickering light on the walls. “What you said ...” Louis began. He lumbered closer and took a seat on the large ottoman a few feet off. His gaze fell to his hands, the skin scarred from playing football, his knuckles reddened. He made a fist, pictured Drew as he’d been a little while ago, then glanced up. “Almost punched a guy tonight, but at the last second, I couldn’t ... kept thinking, ‘Steve was nice to me.’” Steve’s cheeks flushed pink. “My mom ever tell you about my dad?” Steve didn’t respond right away. “She mostly called him names, none I can repeat.” Louis laughed softly, beneath his breath. In the next second, his face straightened. “He left when I was two. Guess you knew that.” Steve merely nodded. “What you don’t know is she blamed me.” “Louis, I hardly think ...” Louis waved him silent. “It’s okay. It’s true. She called me names ... loser, worthless, and a dozen more like it. She told me, if not for me, she wouldn’t be alone. She used to lock me in the closet and go to clubs, bars, for hours.” Steve attempted to rise, managing only an awkward diagonal. “I never knew.” Louis made a face. “You wouldn’t. She met you, and I thought finally she’d

done something right. You treated me like normal. But then, she left, and I blamed you for it.” That his stepdad had figured that out was written openly on his face. Louis faced it, unblinking, then said what he should have weeks ago. “It wasn’t your fault ... or mine ... and I appreciate what you’ve offered to do. I don’t understand why you want to.” “That’s easy,” Steve replied. “I loved your mother, and I love you.” Louis hushed. What could he say to that? He didn’t try, but stood instead. “I have a date tomorrow night.” “A date?” Steve perked. “Is she pretty?” A crooked smile formed. When Steve didn’t speak again, Louis turned toward his room. A few feet off, however, he glanced behind. “Thanks,” he said. His eyes misted, Steve nodded. Thought of getting along with Steve resolved some of the bitterness Louis had felt over his mom. Of course, if he did think about her, it returned. He figured that’s normal. But he pledged to not use his stepdad as a target for his unhappiness anymore. He clung to his new confidence overnight, using it to give himself the strength to walk to Dorothy’s front door. He knocked, his nervousness contained until Dorothy’s grandmother answered. His stomach flip-flopped. “Mr. Buntz, won’t you come in?” He wedged himself past her into the tiny foyer, his gaze falling on a small side table, set with a decorative glass lamp. Past it, to the left, a doorway led into what looked like a living area. A wall of windows spanned the far side, the evening light from the patio out back shining inward. “This way. Dorothy will be out in a minute.” He followed her forward, halting just outside the hall. A middle-aged woman sat

on the couch, a blanket covering her lap. She gazed up at him, but made no effort to move. Behind her, a man approached. Dorothy favored both of her parents in subtle ways and, also, in his view, her grandmother as well. Her dad, a slender man with black hair, streaked with gray, extended his hand. “Thomas Payne. Yes, like the famous statesmen, but not spelled that way.” Louis offered him a smile, taking his hand. Mr. Payne waved toward his wife. “My wife, Elizabeth. You’ll have to excuse her not getting up. She has a condition, chronic fatigue syndrome.” Mr. Payne’s statement dragged Louis’s gaze back to Dorothy’s mom. Long lines on her face combined with the sag of her spine and downward slope of her shoulders, evidence of her disease. She smiled, though it, too, looked tired. He looked back at Dorothy’s dad, who didn’t appear embarrassed by the revelation. “I understand you go to Piermont,” Mr. Payne continued. Louis dipped his chin. “Yes, sir.” “And obviously, you play football. Dorothy told us how you met.” Louis rubbed a damp palm on his shirt. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t see her standing there ....” Her dad waved one hand outward. “We understand that, and she’s obviously forgiven you.” He smiled, seemingly amused. “I bet your parents are proud.” Louis understood the comment for what it was, Dorothy’s dad fishing for information, and decided to be frank. “I live with my stepdad.” Mr. Payne’s eyebrows rose, but whatever question he had, he didn’t ask. “He works from home,” he added, “some sort of investment service. Truthfully, I’ve never asked for the details.” “Sure, sure,” Mr. Payne replied, “too much else going on at school, I imagine.”

“Yes, sir.” “And with football ...” he continued. “I saw in the paper your team is predicted to play the championship.” Louis didn’t reply right away. He hoped so, but he didn’t want to rub that in. Dorothy’s arrival saved him from responding. His throat thickened. She’d pinned her hair on the nape of her neck, tendrils curling at the base of her throat. A silver necklace with a heart-shaped charm hung perfectly just over the rounded neckline of a filmy white blouse. She flashed him a smile, her eyes sparkling, and what concrete thoughts he’d had vanished. He came to, her family staring at him. Shaking his head to clear it, he swallowed. “You look nice.” She bit her lip. “If you’re ready to go?” “You both have a good time,” Mr. Payne said. “You have your phone?” At Dorothy’s nod, he continued. “Be home by eleven. Nothing good happens after then.” He spoke this bit to him. Louis inclined his head in acknowledgement, then turned. Dorothy’s dad and grandmother trailing behind them, he and Dorothy made their way out. Their stares followed them all the way down the walk to his car. He held the door for her to sit, then rounded the front to the driver’s seat. His fingers on the keys, he paused. “You really look pretty,” he said. Her cheeks pinked. “You’re not so bad yourself.” She flicked a glance toward the stoop. “Sorry about all that.” He shrugged. “They have a right. But you’re safe with me.” “I know that,” she whispered.

Their eyes met for what felt like an hour, then he faced forward and cranked.

LOUIS’S CAR WAS CLEANER than she ed it being the night before, especially the back seat. She didn’t mention it, however, instead studying his face. It was odd seeing him out of uniform, now that she wasn’t upset over anything or surprised from running into him. He was handsome, his blond hair, buzzed short, large gray eyes searching hers. “Oh ... I forgot your jacket.” Louis flicked one hand outward. “I don’t need it. You can give it back whenever.” He returned his gaze to the road. “Your dad told me about your mom, but you don’t have to talk about it. I know how that is.” “It’s okay,” she said softly. It was strange. Though ordinarily that wasn’t something she wanted to talk about, with Louis, she didn’t mind it so much. “It’s different than it used to be. She’d take me places. We’d shop, have girls’ nights out. She just ... can’t now. What ... what about you?” He’d said he understood. Louis looked in her direction briefly. “I told your family, but ... I live with my stepdad. My mom left.” “I’m sorry.” She wondered what had happened, but didn’t ask. “Me too.” As if unwilling to let their conversation stop there, Louis nodded toward the radio. “You can turn it on. Play whatever ... I’ll listen to most anything.” Leaning forward, she located a popular tune and sat back. “Thought we’d go to Capello’s, if that’s okay?” She’d been to Capello’s Italian Restaurant only a handful of times, though it was moderately priced, all of those times before her mom fell sick. “Sounds good,” she said. Her life revolved around her mom’s illness anymore. School and football games became her “out”, her way to feel normal. “Then ...” Slowing for a red light, Louis brought the car to a stop. He squirmed, edgy.

“A friend is having a party ... but we don’t have to go. I told him that I’d ask you first.” “A party?” “We don’t have to stay long.” “A party full of people from Piermont?” That seemed like a given and his asking her to go not that unusual. They were on a date, after all. Meeting each other’s friends would happen. But did she want to be surrounded by kids from the rival school? “I guess that’s awkward,” he replied. “We can skip it.” “No ...” Dorothy spoke too fast. “I’d like to meet your friends, though I it an Eagle walking deliberately into a crowd of Raiders seems risky. But I trust you.” She meant that, though she didn’t understand why, and questioned it the rest of the way to the restaurant. She’d thought she trusted Drew, too, and that’d blown up in her face. Something about Louis was different though. They didn’t have much in common, but, at the same time, both understood disappointment. Maybe that was it. Dorothy shut her head off, determined to enjoy the evening, and over the next two hours, developed a new impression of Louis. He was smart, could talk about anything from food to music to science. He had an amazing aptitude for math, and he definitely loved football, his enthusiasm for the sport evident in his voice. “What will you do after you graduate?” she asked. “I’ll probably go to the community college. I really don’t want to be away from home. I’d like to be an English teacher and can get my degree easy enough from there.” “The prettiest English teacher around,” he said. Her cheeks warmed at his compliment. “But to answer your question ... I’ve been offered a football scholarship. I haven’t decided whether or not to take it.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Glancing down at his empty plate, he rearranged his fork. He looked up again. “My stepdad is going to adopt me.” Surprised, Dorothy’s train of thought faltered. “I actually didn’t know until last night. It’s why I was driving ... like that.” “You were upset,” she replied. He dipped his chin, biting his cheek. “It’s a long story, but hearing my mom ...” Louis exhaled, his expression painful. “Hearing she’d actually said he could have me ... it hurt.” It would, and seeing his heartache as he spoke of it poked sharp in her gut. “I wasn’t thinking about where I was going or who might be in the way, just ... I don’t know ... outrunning it. If I’d have hit you ...” “You didn’t,” she said. “You saved me.” Louis’s expression grew grave. “I only did what my stepdad would do. He’s never raised his voice to me, not once, and has put up with my crap. Dorothy ...” Louis released his fork and leaned in. “Maybe I don’t have the right to say so ... but whatever happened with you and Sault, I’m sorry it upset you.” Tears burned behind her lids, and unwilling to let them fall, Dorothy ducked her head, sucking in a needed breath. He’d apologize for Drew? Especially when Drew had gone out of his way to run her away from him. The comparison stood stark in her mind, Louis’s gentleness against Drew’s anger. “I’ve learned that letting go is the hardest part,” Louis continued, “and hanging on the most damaging. Neither one changes how much you care about someone.” Louis stretched out one hand toward her, his palm turned up, and Dorothy lowered her fingers into it. He cradled them, his touch light despite his size. They sat that way for only a minute, then Louis signaled for the check.

On the way out, he placed his hand in the small of her back, guiding her across the lot. He opened the car door, but she halted, her gaze turned toward his. “We ... we’ve been friends a long time,” she stuttered, “and I can’t help but think he didn’t mean it.” Louis merely nodded, and Dorothy took a seat. He sauntered around the front and climbed in. Shaking his keys out, he poked one in the ignition. The engine roared to life, the music picking up mid-song. Louis slanted her a glance. “If he didn’t mean it,” he said, “you wouldn’t have been alone on the side of the road.”

LOUIS HAD BEEN TO DONOVAN’S house twice that he could , both times for a party of some sort. A two-story brick structure sitting on a halfacre of land, the curved wide driveway put him in mind of an Indy racetrack. He could imagine his friend as a boy swooping around and around the curves, lost in his imagination. Pulling up behind a dozen or so cars, he parked, but didn’t get out. “You sure you want to do this?” He asked. “It’s okay if you don’t.” Dorothy’s expression questioned why it bothered him, and Louis feared he’d made too big of a deal of it. Had he? Perhaps. “I’m fine. Really.” As if to prove it, she unfastened her seatbelt and reached for the door handle. Louis leaped out and made his way to the enger side. Standing in the driveway, they faced each other once more. They’d stared a lot all evening, over top their conversations. He didn’t know if she agreed or not, but life had thrown them together twice. He had to believe that had meaning. It also meant bringing her here might be a mistake. “You say the word, and we’ll go.” She nodded, and he offered her his arm, tucking her to his side. Laughter and music greeted them at the door, which opened easily at his touch. Leading her inside the spacious foyer, they crossed through an archway into a large living room. The room was small, but connected to another behind a short wall. Numerous teens milled in and out, red cups of different beverages and plates of snacks in their hands. The scent of grilled meat wafted through the air, growing stronger as they made their way toward the kitchen. Louis followed the smell, exiting the back of the house onto a small patio. Lit by hanging lanterns and a yellowish wall sconce, evenly laid pavers stretched eight feet to the edge of a lush lawn, which disappeared into the darkness. He met eyes with Donovan. “Hey!” Donovan gave an enthusiastic greeting, and they exchanged back slaps. His gaze lowered to Dorothy. “You must be the little birdie Louis’s been

bragging about.” He made a slight bow. “Donovan Conch.” Dorothy flicked him an inquisitive glance, and Louis met it. “He knows, but no one else.” She seemed to mull that over, then smiled. “Little birdie with strong talons.” Donovan laughed, his teeth flashing white in his ebony face. “Beautiful and with spunk. I like her.” He waved toward a barbeque grill, then to their friend, Quintavius. “We have plenty of food ... and Quintavius. He’s been showing us his cooking skills.” Hearing his name, Quintavius focused. He glanced from Louis to Dorothy and back. “The big man has good taste.” Big man was ironic, Q being as tall, if not quite as wide, as he was. Dorothy craned her neck upward. Louis took the moment to shoot Donovan a questioning glance. He mouthed Melinda’s name, and Donovan shook his head. She hadn’t come yet. Just as well if she didn’t, though that’d defeat Donovan’s purpose. Relaxing somewhat, he set his worries aside and introduced Dorothy to more of the team and other friends who’d come. She seemed to fit in, chatting with various people, and an hour later, he’d forgotten about Melinda completely. Leaned over Dorothy’s shoulder, he started to see Melinda a few feet away. His throat closed, and he struggled for breath. “You going to introduce me?” she asked. Louis cleared his throat. “Dorothy, Melinda. Melinda, Dorothy.” “Dorothy what?” Melinda slanted her weight on one hip. She’d dressed rather trampy ... short-short skirt, low-cut tank top, her breasts shoved upwards. Another reason why he didn’t like her. She didn’t hold a candle to Dorothy’s elegant appearance. “Payne,” Dorothy replied.

A sly smile smeared on Melinda’s face. Her elbow propped in the palm of her opposite hand, she tapped her chin with her forefinger, a ring on her finger flashing in the light. “See here ...” she said. “Louis hasn’t said one word about seeing anyone, and I find that strange. Don’t you find that strange?” she asked another girl nearby. “Very strange because I know she doesn’t go to Piermont. After all those times, he and I ...” She paused, a teasing smile on her lips. “Anyhow. Imagine that ... Louis Buntz, Raiders football hero, dating someone not from school.” “Melinda, don’t,” he warned. But she flicked her hair over her shoulder, her tone even darker. “I guess he’s allowed ... except, even stranger, the girl he picks I happen to know cheers for the biggest bunch of losers.” At the murmur of the others in the room, she revolved. “What? He didn’t tell you?” “Melinda.” She ended her spin, her eyes narrowed on his face. “This, here, is Southside Eagle, Dorothy Payne,” she said. “You’ve got some nerve bringing a lowlife like that to this party. Wait ... was that the idea? You’d get rid of me by parading her around?” Melinda laughed, her head tossed back. “Enough. You need to go.” Donovan strode in, grabbed her by the arm and escorted her out. Louis met eyes with Dorothy and tried to look suitably apologetic, like Melinda’s words weren’t true, but knew the damage had been done. Dorothy stood, smoothing her skirt. “I’d like to go now,” she said. “I think I’ve outstayed my welcome.”

CHAPTER 5

THE HURT ON DOROTHY’S face formed a knot in Louis’s gut, and his dinner rolled, nauseous. He’d blown it good and, he feared, way more than he knew yet. He also knew, facing her, how special she was and how badly he wanted this relationship. Why had it taken a mistake to see it? “Is it true?” she asked. He gulped down the bile burning his throat. “Yes ... No ... Maybe ...” They’d made a quick exit from the party, driving in silence down the city streets, then she’d signaled him to pull over ... ironically, within view of her high school. A chill crept into the car, both external, from the air settling, and internal, around his heart. “It was Donovan’s idea, but ... but I should have stopped him. He thought ... I thought ... Melinda ...” Louis silenced. He was botching this up. He had to tell her the truth and take whatever the consequences were. “Melinda has a reputation for being nasty. I guess you can see that. You wouldn’t know she’s been after me, trying to suck up. The party was supposed to get her to lay off. She’d see I was with you and leave me be. But I swear, asking you out had nothing to do with that.” “First Drew,” Dorothy said. “Now this ... I’d like to go home.” His chest constricted. Louis shifted back into drive and pulled into traffic. He wanted to say something, defend himself, but he held back. There wasn’t really any explanation that would make her feel any better about it. The headlights cut a path across her lawn, coming to rest on the garage door. Dorothy exited the car, not waiting for him. She paused, once upright, and lowered her head to look at him. Louis stammered. “I ... I really like you,” he said. “I’m sorry about tonight, but hope ... I can see you again.”

She chewed on her cheek for a moment then released it. “I need time.” With that, she shut the door, and he watched her walk away, his heart heavier with every footstep. She disappeared inside, and he had no excuse to stay, so reversing, he aimed the car toward home. Walking to the door, his feet felt like lead. His stepdad called his name when he entered. “Louis?” Used to, he would have ignored him and gone to his room. Usually, Steve wouldn’t follow. But how he used to act didn’t seem like the right way to be anymore. Steve was all he had now. Redirecting his feet, he crossed the house into the living room. Steve eyed him, then stood. “You’re early. I didn’t expect you back before midnight.” Louis stuffed his hands in the pockets of his pants. “She had to be home by eleven.” And it was ten thirty, still early for him to have returned. Conscious of that, Louis couldn’t hide his disappointment. Steve could see it anyway. His stepdad hobbled forward, halting a foot away. “It didn’t go well?” he asked. Louis replied, frank. “I’m always driving them away.” Steve’s brow drew upward. He bobbled, stretching one hand to Louis’s shoulder. “Your mother left of her own choice. It had nothing to do with you. This girl ... you like her?” He nodded. “If she’s smart, she’ll look back and see what I see ... a gentle spirit with a lot of love to give.” Louis’s lip trembled. He didn’t want to cry, but found, staring at Steve, he couldn’t stop. Steve opened his arms and embraced him. “I promise ... you and me ... are going

to be all right.”

DOROTHY SLIPPED INSIDE the house and crept silently to her room, unwilling to speak to anyone. She heard her grandmother call, but didn’t respond. They’d assume, of course, things weren’t right, but, as they had last night, not want to pressure her and so leave her be. It wouldn’t last. At some point, she’d have to explain, but not now, not until she’d thought everything through. Her phone buzzed, and she stared at Drew’s name until it vanished, then switched the phone off. He hadn’t tried to call at all while she was with Louis. That seemed positive. At least, he’d known she was on her date and not interrupted. But politeness alone wasn’t enough. After what he’d done ... Undressing, she donned her nightgown and crawled in bed. Sometime later, she heard her parents head down the hall. Her grandmother paused outside her door. “Goodnight,” she called. Dorothy didn’t reply. When she dozed, she had no idea, but she awoke, the sun bright in the room, the bedside clock reading past ten a.m. Dorothy stretched and yawned, then the last two nights rushed in, ruining her sleepy moment. Upset, she lay there, unmoving for the longest, her mood troubled. Her stomach’s angry growl finally brought her out of bed. Not bothering to dress, she wandered toward the kitchen, meeting her grandmother’s gaze in the entrance. Her grandmother turned, a dish towel in her hands. “Good morning. Hungry?” Dorothy nodded. “Yes.” “Good. Because I was thinking ... your dad’s home today. I need to go shopping.” “Shopping?” Her grandmother pulled herself up straight. “I could stand to buy a few new outfits. You don’t want me to grow old and out-of-date, do you?”

Dorothy smiled, in spite of her mood, and shook her head. “Then ... how about you and I take a little day trip? We’ll get lunch ... and I thought we could stop by your grandpa’s grave. It’s been a while since I went out there.” “Sure.” Spending the day with her grandma was way better than mulling around the house, lost in her head. Her grandmother shooed her off. “Go put something on, and I’ll finish up in here.” Dorothy skipped back to her room. She changed into jeans and a t-shirt, pulled her hair into a ponytail, and, at the last second, poked her phone in her pocket. She didn’t turn it on though. Drew would call ... something else she’d eventually have to face. She returned to the kitchen, her sneakers in her hand. “Who’s driving?” her grandmother asked. “We can take your car.” Spending time with her grandmother took Dorothy’s mind from her troubles. The hours unfolded with no concerns but whether to buy this blouse or those slacks. They visited a shoe store, had lunch at a small tea room. Then they stopped at the store to buy a bouquet for her grandpa’s grave. She only vaguely ed him. She was maybe four when he’d ed, but her grandma had shown her his picture from time to time, relating some story she’d . Laying the bouquet at the base of his headstone, her grandma knelt, and Dorothy held silent, giving her time to think. Fifteen minutes ed before her grandma glanced her way. She seemed to mull something over and reach a decision. “Let’s sit,” she said, pointing toward a small iron bench on the walkway. They strolled over, taking a seat side-by-side. Her grandmother cleared her throat. “Almost didn’t marry your grandpa,” she said. Surprised by the revelation, Dorothy looked across at her. “Why?” All she’d heard were happy stories, how Eliezer was the love of her life.

“We had a disagreement ...” Her grandmother flapped one hand. “Over silly stuff. Not important what. But point is, I got to thinking about the whole thing and became afraid. Not of him, you understand. He was a good man. Instead, I was afraid of all the arguments we might have, of fighting with him again.” “What changed your mind?” Her grandma pursed her lips, fine lines forming around the edges. “Love and forgiveness. Which reminds me ... I had a friend named Wanda back in high school. We had a falling out, over a boy, of course ... and he wasn’t your grandpa.” Her eyes sparkled with life. She looked past Dorothy, as if seeing things again. “I liked him, but they started dating, and I felt like she took him away from me. It required a lot of forgiveness to move on from it. She and I eventually formed a truce, but, here’s the thing ... I forgave her, but I never allowed myself to be in that position again.” Dorothy’s stomach clenched, her troubled weekend ri afresh. “You want to tell me about it?” her grandma asked. Dorothy shook her head, silent. “Then how ’bout you turn your phone on. You’ve been staring at it all day.” She wasn’t surprised her grandmother had noticed, but found herself unwilling to obey. Tugging it out, she held it, clenched, in her palm. “Who are you hiding from?” her grandmother asked. “That young man last night seemed taken with you. Did he ...?” “No.” Dorothy blurted. Louis had messed up, but he’d not acted like Drew. She’d never expect that from him. Her grandmother’s gaze softened. “What about Friday? I’m thinking you didn’t spend it with your girlfriend.” Dorothy lowered her gaze, staring at her shoes. Her grandmother had noticed

Ria, too? She stuck out her hand, wiggling her fingers. “Let me see your phone.” She wasn’t obligated, could refuse easily enough, but found the burden of the last few days suddenly too heavy. She didn’t know how to behave, didn’t know how she should act tomorrow at school. Drew would be there. How could she avoid him and not raise a huge stink? Everyone would notice. With a sigh, Dorothy dropped her phone in her grandmother’s palm, resigned to whatever happened next. Her grandmother, unspeaking, turned it on. Her brows lifted when a dozen text messages loaded, all of them from Drew. I’m sorry. Please speak to me. Dot, I shouldn’t have acted that way. Her grandmother opened one arm and tucked her to her chest. Her motherly smell, the security of her grasp, brought tears to Dorothy’s eyes, but they refused to fall, beading in her lashes. “Some things are hard to face,” her grandmother said, “and trust, hard to rebuild.” “I don’t know if I can.” The words stuck in her throat. Her grandmother’s grip tightened. “No, I imagine not. But my granddaughter is a strong young woman with a good, sweet heart, and I know she’ll work through this.” Her grandmother tipped Dorothy’s chin up with one hand. “Don’t allow yourself to be in that position again,” she said, short. Dorothy nodded. “Don’t let the good one walk away either,” her grandmother added, her gaze lifting. “Best thing I did was marry your grandfather, and we did argue, exactly like I’d worried we would. But I had your mother and many happy years as a result. In the end, that was far more important.”

THE SCHOOL BUILDING looked the same as it always had. She spotted the same students in the usual locations doing what they did every Monday at seven a.m. But leaving the car and walking inside took a great deal of courage because she knew Drew would be there. Dorothy repeated her grandmother’s advice the day before as encouragement and decided, nearing the double doors, to keep her troubles with Louis entirely to herself. No need for anyone to know what’d happened, especially not Drew. Relieved to reach her locker by herself, she switched books quickly then headed early to class. In the past, she would have looked for Ria or some of her other friends to talk to and exchange news of the weekend. Today, she’d rather avoid it. Her head ducked, footsteps quickened, she dashed up the stairs and down the hall. The door in sight, she exhaled. She might run into Drew later, but at least, this morning ... “Dot ...” His voice stopped her cold, and stiffening, she wished she could pretend she hadn’t heard it. “Dot, please ...” Drew jogged in her direction. Not wanting to be trapped by him, Dorothy turned on one heel, the classroom doorway to her immediate left. She hugged her books to her chest and steadied her breaths. “You didn’t answer your phone.” “There isn’t anything to say.” He slanted his weight on one hip. “I wanted to apologize. I ...” “Oh, look, our loser quarterback ...” A couple girls strolled past, laughter in their tone, and Drew hushed. A minute ed in silence, then he exhaled long. “I’m sorry, Dot. I was depressed and ...” Someone bumped into him, causing him to stumble forward. He caught his fall

and whirled, but whoever had done it had moved on. His shoulders slumped. “Drew.” He looked up. What he’d done with her Friday was pretty terrible, but what he’d endure today seemed like paybacks enough. “The next game will be better,” she said. “You’re a good player.” His face changed, growing hard. “No, it won’t. I’ll never be like Piermont.” Disappointment swept through her. “I’ve got to get to class.” She made to turn, but Drew, standing tall, clenched one fist tight and swung it outward in the empty air. Spinning on his heel, he strode away. She slipped inside the room and took her seat, sliding down supine, her neck pillowed on the chair’s hard edge. Last week had seemed long, waiting for the weekend, but this week seemed longer still, and today, an eternity.

“SO YOU AND DREW ...” Ria lowered her voice, conspiratorial, and leaned across the lunch table. “There is no ‘me and Drew’,” Dorothy stated directly. Drew had popped up in her view several more times, but not approached or spoken. Others had noticed his distance from her and she’d heard speculation that it was over the game. It wasn’t, but letting others think that seemed safer. Why would she want to correct them anyway? “Not what I meant,” Ria continued. “I was simply wondering if you still wanted to be friends.” “Of course, but like you said, maybe that’s run its course. I can’t deal with it today anyhow. He’s angry ... over the game ... over people’s comments toward him. Maybe other stuff. I have no idea. But whatever the reason, I have to believe the next game will be better.” Doubt hung in Ria’s gaze. “And Louis?” she asked. Dorothy looked down at the table. She didn’t know what to do about Louis. In some ways, dealing with Drew felt easier. As long as he stayed angry, she could ignore him without too many qualms. Louis, on the other hand, had apologized then said he wanted to see her. Her doubts of the wisdom of that clouded her judgment. “What happened? The fact you haven’t said anything speaks tons.” “Nothing happened. We simply need to talk.” Ria clearly wanted to know what about, but Dorothy wasn’t in the mood to say. She held silent instead and prepared to endure the rest of the school day. She was relieved when the final bell rang, scooting out the door, her mind on heading home, but started to see Louis’s friend, Donovan, parked at the curb. He waved at her, motioning her over. “Hey there, little birdie.” She halted in front of him, her books tucked to her chest. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

He jerked his chin toward his car. “You got a minute? Can we go for a drive?” She debated it, then nodded. Louis trusted him, so would she. Donovan opened the enger door. “We’ll go around the block,” he said, once seated. Tapping the gas, they rolled out of the lot. He circled the wheel, heading east. “Louis doesn’t know I came ...” he began. “I debated all day yesterday about doing this and decided I ... I had to apologize.” Flipping his blinker, he turned down the boulevard. “The party was my fault. Louis had nothing to do with it. He even argued with me. Melinda ...” Donovan paused. “She’s pretty horrible to everyone, not just you.” Dorothy didn’t respond, and he continued. “She’s chased him around, and he’s tried to blow her off. But she just wouldn’t leave him be. He’s too good to say anything to her directly. I guess that comes from his home life, him not wanting to argue. Did he ...” Donovan flicked her a glance. “Did he tell you about that?” Dorothy nodded. “Some.” At a cross street, Donovan made a left. It ed briefly that they’d gone far away from “around the block”, but she figured he’d take her back to school eventually. She focused on his face. He’d been nice to her Saturday, not acting like her going to Southside was any big deal. He’d even made a joke about it to ease her discomfort. The fact he came to apologize also said a lot. “It isn’t my place to say,” Donovan continued, “but I know Louis. He’ll never come to you and beg.” Unlike Drew. Dorothy kept this thought to herself. Donovan made one more turn into a middle-income neighborhood. Ranch-style homes on quarter-acre lots crowded together down the two-lane street, which ended in a cul-de-sac. But one house in particular leaped into her view. Louis’s

car sat in the drive. Donovan brought his car to a halt and nodded toward the door. “Go talk to him. Louis is the best guy I know, and he really likes you.” Talk to Louis. Her hand on the door, she held in place, for a moment, then tugged the handle and stood. She leaned back in the enger window. “Thanks.” Donovan dipped his chin. Facing the front of the house, she inhaled and wended her way up the walk. She knocked, her nerves rattling at the wait. A voice she didn’t recognize called out, then the door swung open. “Dorothy?” Louis filled the space. Dorothy pointed over her shoulder. “Donovan brought me.” Louis’s gaze strayed, then returned. “Can I come in?” she asked, in the next breath. “We need to talk.”

CHAPTER 6

DONOVAN HAD ACTED CAGEY all day, and Louis figured it was related to Saturday. But he’d not made any effort to talk to his friend to find out why. He wasn’t really upset with Donovan over it anyhow, but with himself. He’d gone along with it, after all, and been dishonest with Dorothy as a result. Interestingly, Melinda had given him a wide berth today, so maybe, in part, the idea had worked. At what cost? Dorothy wasn’t speaking to him, and that was the worst torture. Having her at his door made his heart beat faster. Suddenly, it was third and ten, the red zone in sight. He wondered briefly what exactly Donovan had said, then decided whatever it was, he’d brought her here. “Come in.” He reversed, and she slipped past him into the foyer. “Louis? Who’s here?” Louis glanced toward the living room then back at Dorothy. “I should introduce you.” He found, heading in that direction, that he didn’t mind ... a new feeling for him. He paused outside the room to allow her to enter, then stepped in behind. His stepdad looked up from the couch and, seeing her, tried to rise. “Steve Black,” he said. “Please excuse the ragged greeting. I did a number on my leg the other week.” Dorothy’s gaze strayed to his, maybe fitting his stepdad’s words in place. “Dorothy Payne,” she replied, a minute having ed. “I came to see Louis.” “Of course. Of course. It’s nice to meet you.” Louis waved toward the back door. “We can go out on the patio.” He unlocked the door and slid it open. A puff of afternoon heat pushed in his

face. Looking at the small backyard, Dorothy folded her arms across her chest, then paced to the far side. “Donovan explained about the party ... and Melinda.” Louis considered that. “Melinda doesn’t have many friends, and ...” Dorothy revolved in place. The sunlight lit her hair from behind, giving her a glow. Distracted from the rest of what he was going to say, he paused. He shook himself awake. “I really didn’t want to confront her,” he continued, “though, at this point, I know I should have.” “Donovan said that, too.” Louis tipped his head left. She drew in a breath. “He said you wouldn’t speak to her,” she explained, “and also that you wouldn’t come to me and beg to see me. He said ...” She looked back toward the house and lowered her voice. “He said it was because of your home life.” Louis stuffed his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “It’s good now, but it wasn’t. Steve, my stepdad, is annoying, but nice.” “Louis, I ...” Dorothy stood in place, for a moment, then crept closer, until she was barely a hand’s breadth away. He gazed down at her, dampness rising on his palms, and an itch to reach out, to touch her, took hold. He didn’t though, figuring it’d be too much. She, however, took hold of his shirt. Her head cast back, her eyes gleamed up at him, and he was seized by the thought that she was here ... at his house. She’d come to him, and they were on the back patio together. Small and unimportant to others, but huge in his mind. “I want to see you.” With her statement, she made a tug at the hem of his shirt, and his head dipped, without thought. They hung close, their mouths inches apart, then he gave in to the buzz capturing his brain. She tasted sweet ... and warm and fresh, her lips

tender and pliable. She buried her cheek in his chest after it ended. One hand crept around his waist, and he did the same, tucking her to him. “Louis?” Steve called from inside. Louis sighed. “He’s ... needy.” Dorothy laughed softly, warming a circle on his shirt. She pulled free, taking his hand, and folding their fingers together, led him back into the living room. Steve’s brow lifted. “You worked it out then?” Dorothy nodded. “Good. Because he’s been mooning about.” Steve sat up, his hands in his lap. “Why don’t you stay for dinner?” he asked her. “I can’t cook, but I can order takeout.” “His cooking sucks,” Louis said. Steve laughed. “Yes, it does.” Dorothy cleared her throat. “My parents don’t know where I am, so I guess I should call first. But I don’t have any homework, so probably I can convince them. And I can cook ... my grandmother taught me.” “She’s a keeper,” Steve declared loudly. “She’s put a smile on your face ...” He nodded in his direction. “And I don’t have to eat more Chinese dumplings.”

PULLING INTO THE SOUTHSIDE High parking lot, Louis brought the car to a halt beside Dorothy’s vehicle. A film of dew had already formed on the windshield, the night’s temperatures cooling. Leaning back on the driver’s side door, he spread his knees, and she walked between them to a place a few inches away. Yet neither one touched the other, but stood there, staring, instead. Louis finally cleared his throat. “Thanks for cooking supper ... and putting up with Steve. I can’t believe you managed either one, especially knowing how he is and what was not in the pantry.” She smiled softly. “Steve is nice, like you said ... a little eager and nosy, but nice.” Louis chuckled. “As to cooking ...” she continued. “My grandmother always says any good cook will make do with what they’ve got.” “Well, you did, and he wants to hire you now.” They shared a light laugh, then the sounds of the night took over, cars in the distance humming beneath the closer buzz of a street lamp. From somewhere nearby a dog barked. He raised his palm to her cheek, overwhelmed by the positive lift to his life lately, and, turning her face upward, leaned in and nipped her bottom lip. In a flurry of breaths, fueled by the darkness and the newness of untested emotions, they pressed together, his hand at her waist, hers cupped on his chest. He sampled tongue and cheek, the softness of her temple, the length of her neck. His forehead against hers afterward, he drew in a breath. One play had led him to this, to something magical, something perfect. He should have seen that Saturday and valued it higher. “Guess I should go,” she said. Reluctant, he forced himself more upright and, taking her hand, walked her to

the driver’s side of her car. She unlocked the door with a press of the key fob, but faced with parting, didn’t move. “I’ll call tomorrow,” he finally said, breaking the spell. She took a seat, and Louis shut the door. He waved as she drove away, then walked back to his car and prepared to leave. But dazed, he didn’t, reliving their last moments all over again. “Can’t sit here all night,” he mumbled, at last. He leaned forward, reaching for the keys, but halted at headlights entering the lot. A minute later, a second car arrived. Louis started, recognizing it. Drew Sault. The two vehicles halted side-by-side, and an older man got out of the first. The low light hid him, though his silhouette showed him to be tall, well over six feet. Seconds later, Drew also exited. Irate, he rushed the older man, pushing his hands against his chest. The older man shook Drew off easily enough and reached back into his car. He waved an object, something slender, speaking words Louis couldn’t hear. Then he stretched out his arm, offering what appeared, on second glance, to be an envelope. Drew accepted it, poking one finger inside at the contents. The older man turned to go, in the motion, tilting his face beneath the light of the street lamp. Louis leapt in place. “Coach?” It couldn’t be him, yet he knew it was. His hands shaking, he dug out his cell. “Hey, man. Can I come by? Okay, be there in ten.”

“YOU’RE SURE IT WAS him?” Donovan’s face creased with doubts, and Louis didn’t blame him. He felt as if he’d entered the twilight zone and any minute he’d wake up. But the scene in the parking lot at Southside High replayed in his mind, vivid, with each repetition adding in details ... Coach’s car, that he now recognized, and his familiar widelegged stance. “I’m sure. It was Coach paying off the Eagles’ quarterback.” But for what? Why would Piermont’s coach need to give the Southside quarterback anything? Donovan was clearly asking himself that. “They’re a better team than they’ve shown,” Donovan said. “We played them last year and, granted, you lose at graduation every year, but that doesn’t explain all the flubs. Look at the game against us. From the start, it felt like their QB had given up.” “Dorothy.” Donovan’s expression changed, and Louis attempted to explain. “She and the QB were ... are good friends. I don’t know the details, but they had a falling out recently. She was real upset, kept saying he ‘didn’t mean it.’” “I don’t see how her fight with him means anything ... or why you’d care. She’s with you now, right?” Louis nodded and reclined on Donovan’s bed. Donovan lived, ate, breathed, and slept football. Team posters decorated every inch of the walls and even the ceiling. He deserved a scholarship, was an excellent quarterback, yet hadn’t been given one. Another reason why he debated about accepting his own scholarship offer. Guilt. He focused his thoughts. “That’s why it matters. Maybe he agreed to throw a few games ...” Sitting back up, Louis held one finger up, signaling silence. “... and we’ll get to the implications of that. But, say he did, that would eventually get to him, making him act out in ways he usually wouldn’t.”

“Or maybe the guy’s a jerk.” “Maybe, except Dorothy trusted him.” Which meant, at one point in time, he wasn’t one and something had happened to change him. Louis blinked. “In any case, if that’s what happened, then ...” “Their losing season and our winning one will be called into question.” Donovan finished his thought, and both fell quiet, the settling of the house and distant TV rumble, the only sounds. “Why?” Louis asked. “We need a reason. What’s so important that Coach would take things this far?” “I heard a rumor,” Donovan said, “might be nothing, but Q said he heard Coach wanted a college position.” Was that it? Coach wanted to step up? If so, a winning season would improve his chances. But what good was a “winning” season if it was false? “We need stats,” Donovan continued. “If he paid the Southside QB, then he might have paid others. We need to look at all the teams we’ve played and see if there’s a pattern.” “They have those online. Don’t they?” Donovan nodded and, leaning back, snagged his laptop from his dresser. He flipped it open and logged on, then selected a browser and moved to the regional sports webpage. A few clicks brought him to the section they needed. All the local teams were listed by ranking, the scores and basic statistics of the games they’d played listed in columns. Louis leaned over Donovan’s shoulder, running the numbers in his head, and a boulder formed in his gut. “It’s like the Red Sea parted and we walked straight through.” Though, what he knew of that Bible story was a positive thing and not a negative one. He flicked a glance at his friend. “What’s our next step?” Donovan asked. Louis stood and strolled to the window. His reflection stared back at him against the black night sky. “I can talk to Coach. We have practice tomorrow.”

“You can’t just walk up and accuse him. We have no actual proof.” No. If he’d taken a picture at the time, that would’ve helped. Or if Drew would it to it. He wouldn’t though, and any conversation he tried to have about it, he’d bet, wouldn’t go well. “Our best option is just to play,” Donovan said. Louis’s brow drew tight. “Look ... we have a game Friday, then a bye week. We’re playing Hickson, right?” Louis nodded. “They’re having a decent season, no reason for them to fold. Let’s go there and do what we’ve been taught to do ... play football. Coach isn’t going to it to anything anyway. We’ll give things one more week and reassess.” That felt like inaction to him ... and like keeping secrets from Dorothy. He disliked that the most. But telling her would only make her life that much harder. And was it his place anyway? His hands in his pockets, Louis rocked back on his heels, unable to decide.

HER HEAD DANGLING OVER her sneaker, the laces in her grip, Dorothy made quick work of retying her shoe and sat up with a small head rush. Giving it a moment to settle, she rose, stomped her feet, and reached for her things. Despite their bye week, which she thought mentally the whole school needed, they’d wanted to get in one hour of cheer practice, but the girls’ hearts hadn’t been in it. She couldn’t blame them. Though she still rode an incredible high from Louis’s kisses, the fact was, here, at school, things weren’t going great. “See you tomorrow ...” one girl called in her direction. Dorothy nodded and waved, then made her way out of the locker room. She ran into Mrs. Smolenski in the hall. “Miss Payne, I was hoping you were still here. I wanted to thank you for your efforts to keep spirits up. That is the precise reason I pushed for you as captain this year.” Dorothy’s mood lifted. “Thanks.” That meant a lot. Despite how hard it was, raising the school’s enthusiasm was an easier focus than other parts of her life. Yeah, she was happy about Louis, but her mom’s illness and the destruction of her friendship with Drew ... both weighed a lot. Mrs. Smolenski clapped one hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “We’ll all get through this trying time.” An instant later, she released her and continued ahead. Dorothy looked forward, her eyes on the exit doors, then unplanned, took a left toward the football team’s conference room. Standing in the doorway, she gazed around the empty space, inhaling the scent of unwashed bodies, chalk, and sun-warmed leather. On the chalkboard, Coach had drawn a play, the series of x’s and o’s shifting along curved arrows. She stared at the one representing Drew and, time ing, became conscious of raised voices across the room. Angling herself, she stared at the distant office door marked “Coach”, recognizing the deep snap of his voice and, behind it, the apologetic response of Drew. Hearing it, half of her wanted to flee. The other half felt strangely drawn forward and, her feet on automatic, she soon found

herself standing just outside the door. The bleed of the two men’s voices rattled the thick glass pane in the center. On the other side, she glimpsed Drew’s back, his hands waving wildly. Feeling guilty for watching, she reversed. She hadn’t gone far, however, when the door opened and Drew barreled out. He collided with her, knocking her onto her rump. The jolt spiked pain along her spine and down her legs. “Dot? What are you doing here?” Seated awkwardly, her legs twisted, she sought an excuse. “I wanted to talk.” She did want to talk to him like they used to do, so that wasn’t a lie, but hadn’t planned on doing it now or today. He stared at her, then offered his hand, when she didn’t take it, making a face. “Just helping you back on your feet, not attacking you again.” His light reference to his behavior bothered her some, but she attempted not to show it, taking his fingers and rising. Facing him, however, her anger over it grew. She swung one hand, smacking him in the chest, then another. And another. He said nothing nor fought back, bucking beneath the onslaught, and thirty seconds in, her hand descended on his cheek with a smack. The sting of it radiated up her arm to form a persistent ache in her shoulder. “You had to ruin everything. You and your stupid jealousy, your stupid ego ... So what I like a guy from Piermont ...” “You know nothing about Piermont.” She hushed. The school or Louis? In the next second, she gave a huff. “That’s the route you want to go? I don’t have time in my life to fight with your lousy opinions. You scared me ....” “And I tried to apologize,” he interrupted. “I knew it was wrong the second I did it, but you didn’t give me a chance, hiding behind that ...” “Louis. His name is Louis, and you know nothing about him to scare me off.” Drew’s expression flickered, and she wondered, taking it in, exactly what he was thinking. His answer left her even more confused.

“No, I don’t, but if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from Piermont. I’m sorry, Dot, for hurting you ...” Seeing the pain on his face, her anger vanished in an instant. “Drew ...” She took hold of his shirt, wadding the cloth in her hands. “Whatever’s bothering you ... you can tell me.” “I can’t.” He stated it so plain, she leaped. “Wh-why?” “Dot, I’ve done something ... really bad ... I don’t want you involved. Believe me when I say, I wish things were different, but they’re not.” “You can tell me.” He shook his head. “After what I’ve done ...” His words softened almost to a whisper. “Just who I was,” he said. Taking her hands, he pulled them free and folded them together. “I’ve got to go.” He scooted past her, exiting the room. What could he have possibly done? What was so horrible he felt he had no way out? She couldn’t bring herself to ask, couldn’t form the words anyhow. The Coach’s office door opened behind her. “Miss Payne?” Dorothy turned herself to see Southside’s football coach. An older man, he was well liked, and rumor had it, going to retire sometime in the next couple years. “I was just talking to Drew,” she replied. Coach exhaled, long. “A troubled young man. He showed such promise last year, but this year is making such sloppy mistakes.” She wondered briefly if Drew had said anything to him about his problems, but figured, based on his behavior moments ago, that he hadn’t, and so didn’t offer it herself. “Have a nice evening,” she said, making her way out, more unsettled than ever.

CHAPTER 7

“’NIGHT, MAMA,” DOROTHY said, gently closing the bedroom door. She revolved to find her dad standing just behind, his brow drawn, weariness resting heavy on his cheeks. She lowered her voice. “She seems worse today.” His breath rushed out, his shoulders sagging. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she squeezed, willing some form of hope to grow. As bad as seeing her mom’s decline was, watching it affect her dad was just as awful. He curved one hand over the top of her head, his palm warm, and it was as if they shared the weight of all of this. Moments later, he detached himself. “Unfortunately, I have last-minute work to do, and if I don’t get started ...” She detached herself with a nod, and he shuffled down the hall toward his office. She aimed her own footsteps for the kitchen. Snagging a bottled water, she made her way out the door into her grandmother’s apartment. She called out as she entered. “It’s me ...” She came to a sudden halt just inside. “What are you doing?” she asked with a laugh. Her grandmother looked up from a mound of fabric scraps. Floral prints alongside various striped patterns, several shades of plaid, and solids in many textures and weaves. “I thought I’d make a quilt,” she said. “It’s been a while since I’ve attempted it and going it alone will take longer, but you could help.” Dorothy entered further, falling down on an empty square of her grandmother’s small couch. “You’d have to teach me. I don’t know anything about sewing.” Her grandmother straightened, her fingers folded inside a particular length of fabric. “I figured we’d rent a machine to fasten the pieces. That’s far different from how we made them as a girl. We’d have ‘sewing circles’, all the ladies getting together to work on one project. Days of laughter and stories, some of them ... rather coarse.” Her grandmother chuckled. “Ria might want to come,” Dorothy said, “and I could get a few other girls as

well.” “Sounds perfect ... but first, I have to see what I have that we can use. And you need to tell me what’s bothering you. You didn’t come out here expecting to talk about quilts.” No, she didn’t. “Which boy is this about?” her grandmother asked. “I thought you had feelings for the one from that other school.” “I do. But this is about Drew.” “Then, come tell me.” Her grandmother scooped the samples up and deposited them in the floor, patting the newly-cleared cushion at her side. Dorothy scooted over and leaned her cheek on her grandmother’s chest. Her grandmother wrapped an arm around her and hugged. “He told me something today that keeps bothering me, and I’m ... afraid.” That really was it. She was afraid that things would keep changing, her orderly teenage world becoming more and more like an adult one. It was inevitable that would happen, she guessed, but somehow she’d expected it to pad up to her on cat’s paws. This had been more like an angry lion. “What did you do when Grandpa messed up?” “Well, now ...” Her grandmother’s gaze lifted, and she dragged in a breath. “He messed up a lot. He was a man, after all.” They both laughed, low-volume sounds that brought them together. “But I discovered with him ... and with raising your mother ... that sometimes you have to let people make mistakes. There isn’t always a way to prevent it from happening, and it isn’t always what’s best anyhow.” “What if ... what if it was huge though?” Her grandmother’s gaze dropped to her face, her eyes filled with concern. “I mean ... what Drew said, I don’t know if it’s huge or not, but I know him and

if he’s this upset, then it must be.” Her grandmother’s hand shifted to Dorothy’s cheek, and, held there, she compressed it further against her. Dorothy tried to prevent tears from falling. “The best thing to do is be his friend,” her grandmother said. “Don’t try to fix it or put yourself in a position you shouldn’t be in. But do give him something to hold onto.” She inhaled. “There’s so much for you to deal with lately. I wish I could make it easier.” “You have,” Dorothy replied. “I don’t know what we’d do without you here.” “You’d keep going,” her grandmother said, loosening her grip. “One foot in front of the other, one day at a time. It doesn’t do any good to stand in the same spot.” But it’d be nice to for a while. If only she could roll things back a year. If she did that though, she wouldn’t know Louis, and he’d made her days so much better. Her heart fluttered.

A LATE NIGHT PHONE call with Dorothy had helped him not think about the trouble with Coach, but all through school and especially while suiting up for football practice, inevitably, it all rushed back, and Louis wasn’t sure how he’d react once forced to perform. Not knowing about the cheating scandal had made things easier. Ignorance really was bliss, as the old adage went. Shifting his shoulders to adjust his shoulder pads, Louis shrugged into his jersey and stood, grasping his helmet with his right hand. He headed out of the locker room, falling in behind several others, all of them oblivious to what was happening. At the edge of the field, he met up with Donovan with small comfort that, at least, his friend knew the truth. He was still conflicted about not doing anything, though chances were, Donovan was right. If they accused Coach of paying off players, he’d only deny it. They didn’t have much proof past what he’d seen, and if Drew didn’t it to his part in it, then he’d look like a fool. His gaze strayed down the sidelines to where Coach stood, and he was more sure than ever that it’d been him late that night. Added in with the numbers he and Donovan had seen online, Louis had a hard time believing someone higher up hadn’t also noticed. But if they had, then why hadn’t they already done something? Louis stiffened, his fingers curling into a fist, grateful when practice finally began. Endless drills in the afternoon heat served to release much of his tension, so when the final whistle sounded, a shower, the drive home, and talking to Dorothy were his focus. Coach Waters squared off in front of them. “We’re on the road to victory. It hasn’t been easy. We’ve fought every inch of the way, but it’s been worth it.” Louis’s anger arose once more. Is that what he told himself? Did he go to bed at night, reassuring himself his lies were for the best? “Let’s keep this streak alive,” Coach continued. “This pushes us toward the championship. We must do whatever we can to win!” Louis’s gaze darkened, and the words fell out. “We play fair,” he said.

A hush descended on the team. “Man, don’t ...” Donovan warned in his ear. But Coach’s scowl already said he’d overstepped. What would a little more hurt? “It’s no good to win,” Louis continued, “if we did it walking over other people.” Coach clapped his hands. “The rest of you are dismissed, but, Buntz, you’re with me.” The players dispersed, most of them looking over their shoulder. Donovan reversed slower than the others, seemingly unwilling to leave. “Since you’ve taken it on yourself to make speeches for me,” Coach Waters said, “you must have time today to run laps ... with your gear on.” Run laps? That was his solution? “And if that doesn’t cool you off, I can replace you Friday.” Replace him? This late in the season it’d be stupid ... unless he already knew how the game would go. Louis wavered. This might be his chance to prove it. He certainly wasn’t the only reason the Raiders had won, but he was a key part of it. Not playing Friday, however, might just kill him. “It’s your team,” Louis finally replied. “You think you can win without me, have at it. But I’ll make sure the entire school knows why.” “I do not respond to threats,” Coach said. “Consider yourself benched. Now ... give me five laps and think about it while you run.” Louis glared at him a moment longer, then turned his back and sauntered over to Donovan. “You heard?” Donovan nodded. “Can’t believe you’d take things this far.” Louis stared at his friend, for a moment. “Some things, like integrity, are more important.” With that, he set off at a jog.

LOUIS SCUFFED THE SOLES of his sneakers on the Payne’s stoop, nervousness taking hold. When he’d decided to come here, he’d not thought much past a swirling depression that had grabbed hold of him following practice. It’d been one thing to stand up to Coach and was quite another to follow through. He really wasn’t playing Friday? He wasn’t ... and totally by choice. His mood dipped further. “I know I should have called,” he began, “but I wanted to see you.” Dorothy’s cheeks pinked. “I always want to see you.” He smiled in spite of his sour state of mind. “Can you come out?” he asked. She exited the house, barefooted, curling pink-painted toenails into the bristly welcome mat, and nodded toward the steps. “We can sit if you want.” He turned and took a spot on the left, leaving what room he could for her to him. It was tight, her leg rubbing up against his. Seated, his thoughts picked at him. He wanted to confess and tell her everything: about his crooked coach and Drew’s part in it, about not playing the game Friday. But doing that felt selfish ... like what his mom would have done. He considered that. He’d learned to be different living with Steve. His stepdad was forever giving and never put pressure on him, even when he acted up. But thinking of it now, that didn’t mean Steve wasn’t upset sometimes. He simply never showed it. “How’s your mom?” Louis asked. Pain surfaced in Dorothy’s eyes, and she released a small breath. Louis’s heart constricted. He reached for her and, pulling her toward him, wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She slanted her cheek to the base of his neck. “It’s so hard watching her struggle.” Dorothy’s voice muffled against him, her breath warming a circle of his skin. “I feel helpless. I mean, she never complains, but I can’t fix it. I want to fix it. And that, on top of everything else ...” Her voice faded, then she spoke low. “Why does it feel like everything hit me at once?” In the next instant, she straightened and shook herself. “I have to stop

mulligrubbing. I don’t help myself by thinking on it. Hey ...” Her gaze widened. “You came to me, and I’m hogging the conversation. Is everything all right?” Louis buried his unhappiness permanently. No way was he going to dump on her now. “I’m great, just tired from practice. But seeing you helped.” A sparkle lit in her eyes. On impulse, he tipped her chin with one hand and kissed her. “Was I not supposed to do that?” he asked softly. She released a breathy laugh. “Well, chances are my grandmother was watching, but I enjoyed it ... Hey, speaking of practice. We have Friday off, and I was thinking of dragging Ria to watch you play.” Louis’s gut twisted. Dragging Ria to watch him not play. Swallowing his unrest, Louis forced himself to smile. “If you want. But we’re playing at Hickson, and that’s quite a drive from here.” “Right ... Well, if we do, I’ll let you know.” They sat in silence for a moment, then Dorothy surged to her feet, tugging him up after her. “Since my grandmother is watching, let’s go in. We can watch a movie ... although it’ll have to be something squeaky clean and old.” A movie sounded good, anything, really, to forget the rest of his week and help her stay cheerful. Louis lumbered in after her, her fingers tangled in his. He came to a halt just inside the living room. Mrs. Payne, with her husband’s assistance, tried to rise from the couch, but seemed unable to walk once she had. She tottered, and Dorothy rushed over, taking hold. “Lean on me ...” she said. “She wanted to go lie down.” Dorothy’s dad offered the explanation with an apology on his face. Both Dorothy and her dad tried to help Mrs. Payne aim for the hallway, but it was clear any progress would be painfully slow. Louis stepped forward. “If I might?” he asked. “I can carry her.” Dorothy’s expression grabbed him by the chest.

“Would you?” she asked. Hope. That’s all she wanted, a little hope that things would turn out okay. He couldn’t exactly give her that, but he could make this one moment easier. “Sure ... if your dad says it’s all right.” At Mr. Payne’s clipped nod, Louis walked up beside Dorothy’s mom and tenderly swept her off her feet. She weighed barely anything and made no effort to resist. Tilting her firmer against him, he looked ahead. “Just show me where to go ...”

IT SURPRISED HIM HOW resolved he was now about Friday. Seeing the Paynes’ troubles helped put everything into perspective. Suddenly, his life wasn’t so hard and things not strictly about him. His purpose, whether with Dorothy’s family or in regards to football or even Drew, was centered more on how what he did affected others. So what he missed one game, his life went on. And it was better than it’d been. Having a good relationship with his stepdad, having a great one with Dorothy, was worth way more than a few hours playing sports. He refused to complain. His mind focused, thoughts upbeat, Louis entered the school doors, only to have the talk circle back around to him and tomorrow’s game again. Unprepared, he nodded as others patted him on the back or called his name, unsure what exactly was going on. “Is it true Coach benched you? What’s wrong with him?” Melinda approached, and the irony of her speaking nice to him hit Louis square. But she seemed sincere and not hateful. His brow wrinkled. “Who told you that?” He’d threatened to tell everyone, but probably, in his current mindset, wouldn’t have bothered. On the other hand, someone clearly had. “I heard it from Shelley, who heard it from Laura, who heard it from ...” She blew out a breath. “Point is, everyone knows, and no one believes you’re at fault. I even heard someone taped a note to Coach’s office door, a super nasty one.” That was interesting ... and unnecessary. Nor did Louis believe Melinda could make such a blanket statement as to what “everyone” believed. He didn’t say so, however. “I mean, one week you’re the school hero, but now Coach doesn’t even want you to play?” she continued. “It’s crazy.” Quintavius caught his gaze from a few feet away, and Louis pushed past her, walking up to his friend. One hand stuffed in his pants pocket, Q leaned his shoulder against the lockers. A few others gathered around. “What’s going on?” Louis asked.

Q quirked a crooked grin. “Oh ... a little damage control. Donovan said Coach is out to get you, and the guys on the team were upset. Some of them let it leak to their friends. By the end of the day, I’d say Coach is going to be on everyone’s ‘most hated’ list.” Which both pleased and bothered him at the same time. Having the of his friends meant a lot, but it wouldn’t put him back in play on Friday. It would, however, add pressure to Coach. In his thinking, a good thing. What happened afterward? Would the team win the game without him? And if they did would it be because the others picked up the slack, or because the game was slanted in their favor already? “Man ... Coach is crazy, taking you out,” a fellow player said, pounding him on the back. “You won the game two weeks ago.” “I just did what came my way,” Louis replied. “Please ...” Donovan strode up behind. “And that’s why you’ve been given a full scholarship.” At Louis’s worried expression, he rolled his eyes. “It’s common knowledge, and you earned it by being good at football. But then, if you bragged about it, you wouldn’t be Louis.” “Always humble.” Q added to Donovan’s speech. “Maybe it’s the new girlfriend making you so serene now though ...” He grinned as he said it. “New girlfriend?” Melinda’s voice whisked in Louis’s ears, and he stiffened. Last thing he wanted was more trouble from her. Though she’d been nice this morning, it didn’t mean anything about what she might do next. She rounded in front of him. “Does she know what you did yesterday?” Melinda paused then inhaled. “No, I see she doesn’t.” “You didn’t tell her?” Donovan asked. Louis gave no response. Talking about Dorothy when she wasn’t here felt

wrong. “Yo! Louis!” Yet another team member strolled past, giving a thumbs up. Louis nodded in acknowledgement and turned. “I’d better get my books,” he said. Wedging himself out of the crowd, he headed for his locker. He spun the combination and looked up from his things to see Donovan had followed. “I have a plan,” his friend said. “To make me look like what I’m not?” Louis asked, though he wasn’t really upset with Donovan. “You look like who you’ve always looked like, a great guy,” Donovan replied. “No ... a plan about the game. Trust me. I’ve got in all in hand.” Louis slid a couple books beneath his arm and shut the locker door. “You going to let me in on it?” “Nope.” Donovan shook his head. “But let’s say ... Coach will never see it coming.” “Oh, Louis ...” a female voice crooned. Louis looked past Donovan, who also turned. The girl speaking stretched out her t-shirt with both hands. In glittery glue across her chest, she’d written, “Buntz, 08.” Donovan laughed in his ear. “Enjoy it. You deserve the attention. Though maybe, I wouldn’t tell Dorothy about that one.”

CHAPTER 8

RIA TOSSED HERSELF in the enger seat, slamming the door, and Dorothy paused before tapping the gas. Even flustered, her friend looked incredibly put together. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.” Ria made a face, her bottom lip puckered. “Our one Friday night off without football and you convince me to go to a game ... for Piermont, nonetheless.” Dorothy smiled. “It’s going to be fun. For once, we don’t have to do anything but cheer.” “For the rival team? You know you’re going to spend the entire night screaming for Louis.” Dorothy giggled and finally rolled the car forward. The street stretched several hundred feet then curved left, ending, she ed, at a cross street that led west. Following its path, she made a right at the stop sign and slid into traffic. Another car pulled in front of her from the side street just ahead. “It’ll take us thirty minutes to get there,” she said, glancing toward Ria. Stretching out one finger, she prodded the radio on-switch and a popular tune peeled through the speakers. At the same time, her cell phone rang. Dorothy spun the volume knob left and read the number flashing on the screen. Not one she was familiar with. Tempted to ignore it, instead, she answered and lifted it to her ear. “Hello? Oh, hey, Mrs. Sault. No, I haven’t seen Drew ... Was he at school? I think ...” She glanced toward Ria again. “I saw him this morning, but we don’t share classes late in the day. He’s missing?” Her stomach knotted. Missing and, according to his mom, didn’t take his phone with him. Dorothy’s plans to drive to the Piermont-Hickson game evaporated in an instant, replaced by uneasiness and fear, in his depressed state, he might do something horrible to himself. But, no, he wouldn’t, would he?

“I’m going to drive around and look for him,” she said to his mom. “I know several places to look, and as soon as I find him ...” She paused. “As soon as I do, I’ll call you.” She hung up and spun the wheel, turning down an alternate street. “That’s it?” Ria asked. “Instead of watching your boyfriend play ball, you’re going to run after a guy who forced himself on you?” “He apologized,” she said. And she believed him. Whatever he’d done that he felt so guilty about had made him act that way. Plus, she had an idea where he might be. She only hoped she got there in time.

A FLASH WENT OFF IN Louis’s face, temporarily blinding him to his surroundings. His helmet in one hand, gaze straight ahead, he listened to the murmur of the crowd gathered at Hickson stadium and tried to clear his vision. Slowly, normality seeped back in, and a couple players surged past, headed for the sidelines. He followed, surprised once he arrived to see the number of Piermont’s students that’d driven all this way. Away games typically had a much lower turnout, especially ones at such a distance, but the visitor stands were almost full, many people holding signs. Go Piermont. We’re #1. And one at the top of the stands that said, Louis Buntz. How hard had Donovan worked to drum up this kind of ? He had no doubt his friend was behind it, but questioned his reasoning. What exactly did he have planned tonight? As for himself, he’d barely spoken to Coach, suiting up, despite the fact he knew he’d never hit the field. In his mind, it was psychological. He was here, so he’d be ready like he always was because eventually the notoriety would die down and he’d have only his actions to fall back on. Nothing in his life had ever come easy or free. He’d had to work, ignoring the odds, to get anywhere. Louis scanned the crowd, looking for Dorothy, and halted at a different familiar face. Steve was here? His stepdad waved, and Louis nodded in his direction. Ironic, the one game he comes to and he won’t get to see him play. Turning aside, Louis ambled over to the bench. He won’t get to see him play, but hopefully, he’ll watch a fair game. Though, Louis sought out Coach Waters, taking in his rigid stance, his crossed arms, and wondered what his former mentor had done to rig the outcome. “Piermont! Piermont! Piermont!” A pulsing cheer came from the stands. “Seems like we have quite a competition planned tonight ...” The announcer’s voice rang out. “With this win, Piermont can pretty much seal up a walk into the championship.” A walk? Was it? “And Hickson wins the toss ... Good team, Hickson High,” the announcer

continued. “It’ll be interesting to see how they stack up against Piermont. Seems like one look from the Raiders and the other side usually folds ....” Or one look from Coach Waters reminding them he’d paid for them to lose. Louis hoped it wasn’t true tonight, but had a gut feeling it was. What Coach had done once, he’d do again until somebody stopped him.

“WHERE ARE WE GOING?” Ria curled her fingers around the door handle. “And can you slow down?” “Sorry.” Dorothy bumped the brakes and inhaled. She didn’t believe Drew would hurt himself. But the idea he might, having implanted itself, wouldn’t shake free, and until she saw him in one piece, she couldn’t relax. “Wait ...” Ria turned her gaze out the enger window. “We’re headed to school?” “The stadium,” Dorothy replied. “I’m betting, in his current mood, that’s where he went.” Ria’s lips pursed, for an instant. “What mood is that?” She hadn’t told anyone but her grandmother what Drew had said, thinking it was best, and she wasn’t inclined to do it now. But her friend, their evening plans interrupted, deserved some sort of explanation. She mulled over what to say though. He’d told her he’d done something bad, and in her mind, thinking on it later, she’d decided it had to do with football. She couldn’t see, however, what it might be. He’d had a bad season, not a good one, and it seemed like that removed any suspicion of wrongdoing. “Dorothy?” At her name, Dorothy sighed. “He apologized for how he acted, like I said, but he told me he’d done something, to ‘ him as he was’ ... and no, I don’t know what that means. But he was really upset over it, so whyever he’s missing tonight, it has to be related.” “He did something?” Dorothy nodded. Something big enough it scared her. She hit the gas again, speeding the car up, and slung around a curve, the school stadium now in sight. It was dark and deserted, save for a handful of street lights left running. She pulled into the lot, parking by the front gate, and got out with only one glance at

Ria. The gate was locked, for obvious reasons, but knowing of a side entrance, she followed the fence to the left, then half a football length to where a second gate had been wiggled open. Squeezing through, she halted and scanned the stands. She spotted a stooped figure seated in front of the announcer’s booth. Drew. Ria stepped up at her side. “I’ll wait at the bottom,” she said. Nodding, Dorothy crossed the field and headed into the stands. Early fog misted the steps in front of her, making Drew’s slump form eerie. He looked up at her as she approached, his face hidden in shadow. “What are you doing here?” he asked. Dorothy took a seat at his side. “I’m going to ask you the same. Your mom called me, worried. She said you’d left your phone at home and asked if I knew where you’d gone.” “I didn’t want to be bothered.” “Why?” When he didn’t respond, she reached for him, taking his hand and curling it in her own. Drew stared downward, his gaze on their fingers. “Your Raider won’t like this.” “He’s not here, and this is between me and you. Drew, what is it? What’d you do?” He pulled free and stood, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s weird really. I never had feelings for you ... well, not romantic ones. But as soon as you showed interest in someone else, I was so jealous I couldn’t think.” A knot formed in her gut. Mashing one hand over it, Dorothy stood, but didn’t touch him this time. “And now?” she asked. He slanted her an odd look. He was handsome, with dark hair, and at times like these, a certain smoldering look that should make her heart swoon. But it didn’t. One day, he’d find a girl

who was perfect for him. For her, his friendship was worth more, and her heart fast falling for Louis. “You’re like a sister I should have had, one who would have told me that no amount of money was worth my pride. I couldn’t see it though. Funds are tight at home. My mom couldn’t pay a few bills, and I reasoned I’d give it to her and help us out.” “Did ... did you?” she faltered. He nodded. Taking his hands from his pockets, he waved his arms wide. “I fixed it all!” His shouted words echoed in the empty stadium. “All I had to do was goof up a few plays.” Her legs weakened, Dorothy sat down abruptly. He’d taken money to throw a game? From who? Not Southside’s coach. He’d had no idea what was wrong. But that meant it was someone from another school. “Even stranger ...” Drew continued, “you going out with the guy from Piermont. I looked up about him. His stats are incredible, and I respect that. He’s going to be somebody in college. I’d even bet he’ll go pro one day. But after what I’ve done, there’s no hope for me.” “Drew?” Dorothy forced herself to stand. “Who asked you to throw a game?” He fell silent. His hands back in his pockets, he rocked back and forth. “Who isn’t important. He’s paid others ... other players, other coaches ... to send his team to the top.” Team to the top. The phrase rattled in her thinking, and she quivered. It couldn’t be. “I even threatened to tell unless he paid me more. He tossed me another grand.” Drew whirled. “How does that make me look? You really don’t want to have anything to do with me now.” “Pier ... Piermont?” she asked. He nodded. “He wanted his team to win, and he’ll get it. Though with players like Buntz on his team, he would’ve done that anyway.”

It hit her. Piermont’s Coach was crooked, and every game they’d played probably rigged. “Louis.” Did he know? He couldn’t possibly know, but right now he was ... Dorothy grabbed hold of Drew’s hand and dragged him after her toward the stadium steps. “Dot ... what ... where are we ...?” “Hickson,” she said. “We’re going to go watch Piermont play football.” She raced down the stands and across the field, Drew on her heels, and practically ran into Ria. Ria glanced from him to her and back, then held up her phone, screen outward. “We should’ve gone to that game,” she said. “Piermont’s players just walked off the field. It’s blowing up social networks.”

CAPTURED IN THE CHAOS, Louis found himself towed into the locker room amidst Piermont’s players. A sea of coaches and staff, Coach Waters in their midst, as well as refs and officials and a few parents squeezed in around them. So many bodies in such a small space raised the temperature several degrees, and soon he was sweating, as well as straining to hear above the melee. Everyone talked at once. Coach Waters shouting, players shouting back, and tempers flared, threatening to devolve into fistfights. Then a ref blew his whistle and silence descended. He held up his hand, palm outward, waving it even in Coach’s face, for a moment. “We’ll sort this out,” he said, “but we cannot all talk at the same time.” He trailed his gaze around the room, ending it on Donovan. Donovan had initiated the walk out before the first play. They’d lined up, prepared to snap the ball, then Donovan had stood, the ball in his grip, signaled the others with a nod, and proceeded off the field. Stunned, he’d sat there, unable to process it. He wondered now how he’d gotten everyone else to agree to this. After all, it could ruin their chances to compete. “Young man, would you like to explain your actions?” Louis wormed himself more toward the front, and it struck him the players had formed an impenetrable wall. Arms folded over their chests, legs shoulder width apart, they glared down at Coach Waters, who looked the angriest Louis had ever saw him. His eyes bulging, cheeks purple with rage, he appeared unhinged. “We won’t play for Coach anymore,” Donovan stated frank, “and if he decides to bench any more of us for it, then we forfeit the game.” Forfeit the game? Louis tried to catch eyes with his friend, but failed. The ref’s attention shifted to Coach. “You have anything to say?” Coach Waters appeared to make a great effort to control himself, his hands curling into fists. “Buntz! You’re behind this ...” Donovan blew out a loud breath. “He knew nothing about it.” He leaned into Coach’s face. “We know about you, and Piermont doesn’t need a crooked coach.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “I do.” Louis heard the words leave his lips and couldn’t believe them. He shook free of the team and approached. “Last Saturday at nine p.m., I saw you in a parking lot paying off a player from another school.” He wouldn’t say who even if they begged. The ref’s eyebrows lifted, and a murmur swept through the room. “You were standing directly beneath a street lamp in full view. I also know who you were with and, given some persuasion, am sure he’ll come forward.” Though he wasn’t sure of that and hoped it wouldn’t go that far. Denial was written on every line of Coach’s face. And guilt. He spit and sputtered, waving his hands and spouting curses. Chaos returned, people talking one over the other. The referee blew his whistle again. “Is this true?” he asked. “It’s true.” A new voice spoke from the locker room entrance. “He tried to bribe me, but I refused.” The crowd parted, and Hickson’s quarterback entered the room. “Last Thursday, he tracked me down after school. Offered me five hundred bucks. But I told him I wouldn’t have anything to do with it, so he made some threats to keep me from telling. Being truthful, he scared me enough that I debated on whether to speak up or not, but after what Piermont just did ...” He met eyes with their team. “I owe it to you.” Louis revolved in place to face Donovan. “You thought I was crazy for standing up to him.” That wasn’t his exact words, but he’d read it in his expression. “Maybe a little,” Donovan replied, “but after you ran off to do laps, I got to thinking about what you said about integrity and realized, if I didn’t back you up, I wouldn’t have any either. So I made some phone calls and told the team ... without giving any names of who’s involved ... and they agreed to do it ... for you.” Louis trailed his gaze along the line of players.

“You’re one of us,” Donovan said. “We don’t want you on the bench, especially not for doing what’s right. And, on a larger scale, football ties together this community. Whether it’s an Eagle or a Raider or any other team, what Coach has done hurts everyone.” “Martin Waters ...” A deep voice spoke from behind, and Louis turned in place. This man he didn’t know, but saw the area League logo embroidered on his shirt. “We’re going to have to ask you to come with us.” Several officials, their expressions grave, escorted Coach Waters out of the building. “Now what?” asked one of Piermont’s players. Louis met eyes with the ref and behind him their assistant coaching staff. How much had they known? Chances were Coach had kept it to himself. But he’d involved a lot of people, and in the next few days, more names would leak. But not from him. He wouldn’t be the one to implicate Drew. “Now, we play ball,” Donovan replied, “and may the best team win.”

DOROTHY SCOOTED ACROSS the stands, making room for Ria and Drew to sit beside her, and scanned the field for any sign of Louis, but the visiting team was missing and rumors flying from mouth to mouth around them. She leaned forward, tapping a rather skinny kid on the shoulder. “What’s the scoop?” He eyed her, for a moment, a lock of hair dangling between his eyes, then jerked his chin toward the field. “They went to make the first play, then Donovan signaled the team and they all walked off.” Donovan. So this kid went to Piermont and naturally assumed she did, too. She didn’t correct him. “They shouldn’t have benched Buntz.” “Louis was benched?” The question fell out, and she realized her faux pas, the boy’s expression turning incredulous. “I ... I wasn’t there for a couple days,” she stammered. This seemed to satisfy him. But she wondered why, what must be common knowledge at Piermont, Louis hadn’t seen fit to say to her. “After practice Wednesday,” the kid continued. “Word is that Coach is crooked. Louis stood up to him, and so Coach benched him. Donovan had the team agree to walk off the field to get him back.” Wednesday. He’d come over on Wednesday and had seemed ... off. But when she’d asked, he’d blamed it on being tired. He hadn’t told her anything had happened to him, even though she’d said she might come to the game. “Thanks,” she said, sitting back. Her gaze met Ria’s then Drew’s and lingered there the longest. Worry sat heavy in his eyes. But then, he probably had the same questions she did. If the Piermont team had told everyone what their Coach was up to, then what about him? Was Drew’s name dragged into it? And what happened if it was? “Looks like the Raiders are returning to the field, but I don’t see ...” The announcer’s microphone clicked. “Well, this is an interesting turn of events. Raider’s coach, Martin Waters, has been taken from the stadium. Assistant Coach, Bill Nickerson will take over.”

Dorothy spotted Louis jogging onto the field, and her heart both skipped a beat and compressed at the same time. He’d kept secrets from her again. He had to have had a reason, right? She shouldn’t overreact, but give him a chance to explain. And hope whatever it was made sense. Tears burned behind her eyelids, but she willed them back. “Okay, folks, we’re a little late starting tonight ...” the announcer said, “but let’s play ball!” A roar went up from the stands.

CHAPTER 9

DOROTHY ELBOWED HER way through the Raiders streaming on the team bus, and reached one hand out, snagging Donovan’s sleeve. He halted and turned, recognition dawning on his face. A line of dirt crossed his cheek, bits of grass clinging to it. “Where’s Louis?” she asked. Donovan nodded at the steps. “Saw him enter a few moments ago.” Tapping several players aside, he steered her upward and to the left. “Back row,” he said. A sea of weary male faces stared at her, the narrow aisle cluttered with extended limbs, the air scented with sweat and soil. She cleared her throat. “Concongratulations ... on ... on the win?” A few nods responded. “Louis?” He stood, his brow furrowed, and she paused, both to contemplate his expression and figure out how to make her way there. “Let her through,” Donovan said. At his words, the aisle cleared. She thanked him with glance, then gingerly stepped ahead. It was like walking the gauntlet, each player she ed gazing her way. She dipped her chin more than once, uttering her gratitude, aware of their listening ears when she finally stopped. She coughed again. Perhaps now wasn’t a good time to bring personal things up, yet she’d come this far ... she had to say something. “I was late getting here ... had to ask someone what happened.” Louis flicked a look past her, then sidestepped and waved her to a seat. She obeyed, placing herself between him and the window. The murmured talk of the others began, the rest of the team returning to their chatter.

Just the same, she lowered her voice. “You didn’t say anything.” He bit the inside of his lip, kneading it, then exhaled. “I didn’t want to dump my problems on you. You already had so much to deal with ... with your mom and all.” That sounded like him, and part of her was grateful. But what had he thought would happen at tonight’s game? She would’ve seen him not playing and wondered why. Didn’t he think she’d be just a little bit upset? Was she upset? Staring in his eyes, she couldn’t decide. “What happens with the championship?” This was a safer question. If the games were rigged, or at least, most of them were, then the Raiders wouldn’t be fairly qualified to compete. “We told the Assistant Coach we won’t play it.” She started. “Just like that?” That was a lot to give up, and she’d watched them tonight, knew just how much they deserved it. But Louis nodded. “It isn’t fair to the other teams if we do, and anyhow, it’s out of our hands. We’ll abide by their decision.” Big of them, though like he’d said, it wouldn’t be their choice anymore. She squirmed in her seat, another question niggling at her. “What of ...?” Louis seemed to know what she wanted, but to her thinking, he looked upset. “Can I call you later? We’re about to leave and ...” She nodded, and he rose and escorted her off the bus. His gaze drifted past her when they emerged, and she glanced behind to where Drew and Ria stood, a short distance off. If she had questions, now, so did he. Louis’s gaze returned to her. Bending down, he appeared to kiss her cheek, but his lips nearing her ear, his voice fell to a whisper. “He’s safe.” He reversed, speaking normally again, “I’ll call. Might be a couple hours though.” She nodded, and he spun in place and disappeared aboard the bus.

The approach of Piermont’s coaching staff sent her scurrying to her friends. The three of them stood there silent until bus exhaust claimed the area. They then made their way through the busy lot to her car. It took quite some time to exit in the thick stop-and-go traffic. “What’d he say?” Ria asked from the front enger seat. Dorothy didn’t respond right away, and a few minutes ed navigating the streets. Once on the highway, she met Drew’s curious gaze in the back seat. He’d been silent through most of the game, fidgety. Now, somehow, he seemed resolved. “Nothing much,” she finally replied. “There were too many ears around, you know? Mostly, that he would call me later.” “But what about the scandal with their Coach?” “I think he didn’t want to talk about it. He only told me they wouldn’t be in the championship. He seemed okay with that.” The conversation fell silent, then Dorothy offered to drop Ria at home first. She waved as her friend walked to the door, turning her head toward Drew afterward. “Come up front.” He switched seats, and she headed for the school. But nearing it, she slowed, the weight of her thoughts begging to come out. “Drew ... When your mom said she couldn’t find you, I panicked. I thought ... thought you might be upset enough to ... you know.” His brow wrinkled. “You thought I’d hurt myself?” “Well, it crossed my mind, and I ... I love you.” The words having escaped, she couldn’t call them back, but found with their release, she meant it. “Not like what I feel for Louis,” she continued. “You said I was a sister to you. Well, you’re my brother ... my best friend, in a lot of ways ... and all of this mess between us has just about driven me crazy.” He sighed and laid his head back on the seat. “I love you, too, and I’m sorry, Dot. I ...” He flipped his face toward her, his cheek to the head rest. “I think if you’re going to fall in love with someone, I’d want it to be Piermont.”

Her face warmed. “I see I’m right,” he said. He was smiling some, which lifted her spirits. “Any guy who’d sacrifice himself for the sake of his friends ... and strangers ... is worth having the best girl I know.” Dorothy stretched her hand out and captured Drew’s. He folded his fingers around hers, his palm callused and warm. “As for me ...” he continued, “whatever happens because of what I did ... I’m going to follow his example and take it. I can’t live like this anymore.” For a moment, she was confused. Then it hit her, she hadn’t told him. “Shoot. I’m sorry. I forgot ... and he said ... I ... I should have told you.” Tiny furrows formed on his brow. “Told me what?” “What he said when we left the bus. He whispered in my ear, said you were safe.” Drew’s eyes widened. “He said that?” She nodded. “I don’t know the details, what he does or doesn’t know, but you can breathe ... and play football.” His grip on her hand tightened. “And play football,” he repeated.

THE RUMBLE OF A CAR engine and accompanying shafts of its highlights brought Dorothy to the front window. She was surprised to see Louis pull into the drive and scurried out the door to greet him. He exited, pausing at the enger side to lean back on the door and cross his ankles. She walked within arm’s distance. “I thought you were going to call.” Hours ago. She’d been tempted to call him first, but had decided that made her look desperate. Probably, he was tired and needed to relax first. She should give whatever time he needed. “Went home and took a shower,” he said, “then was going to call, but Steve said to, ‘get my butt on over there,’ that you deserved to speak to me in person. I decided he was right. Plus, maybe ... I wanted to see you a little bit.” His itting that made her head feel light and caused a smile to creep on her face. Seconds later, it faded somewhat. “You didn’t tell me ... about your coach or Drew or tonight’s game ... and I know you said it was for my benefit, but ...” “I hated keeping it from you, but, Dorothy, it was the right thing to do. What kind of person would I be to say your friend was cheating ... ‘Oh yeah, with my coach’ ... and, by the way, we were headed for the championship as a result? I had to deal with it alone.” “Drew ...” After that, she couldn’t quite bring herself to ask for details, though she greatly wanted to know. “I kept his name out of it,” Louis said, “and if I’m asked, I won’t say he was involved. Coach could, but with all they’ll probably find against him, I doubt he will. What’d be the purpose to destroy one high school kid?” “Why?” She asked the question, and Louis pursed his lips. “Why would you protect him? I’m grateful you did, but after how he acted with me ... and ... and you were there ...” Louis seemed to contemplate his response. His arms folded over his chest, head tilted, he said nothing for an uncomfortable length of time. Then he raised one hand to her cheek. “You really have to ask me that? If he mattered to you, and I

saw that he did, then it matters to me. Everyone deserves a second chance. Steve gave me mine.” His fingers slid to the back of her head, and he firmed his grip, drawing her closer and turning her face toward his. His mouth met hers, definite, unyielding, a statement made without words ... that they’d found each other, and he wasn’t letting go. The flash of the porch light broke them apart. Laughter spilling from her lips onto his, Dorothy collapsed against his chest. “My grandmother ...” “Should I wave?” Louis asked. She giggled again and lifted her gaze to his. “We need to go on our second date. You know, we only had one.” “Somewhere private?” he asked, amusement in his voice. “No ...” She dragged the word out. “I was thinking we should go watch Eagles football.” “Football?” She reversed a step and nodded. “I’ll wear a short blue skirt and do a bunch of kicks.” Louis laughed, his chest shaking. “I’d like that,” he said.

“IT’S THIRD AND LONG ...” The announcer’s voice echoed against the metal stands and a ragged cheer went up from a group of girls seated several rows ahead. School spirit displayed in blue and white hair ribbons, the Eagles’ mascot painted on their cheeks, they spilled sodas and tossed popcorn at their feet. “Extra long,” Donovan said in Louis’s ear, “and he’d better have his eye on number twenty. That kid’s rabid.” “I him.” Q stuck his head between them from his seat one row behind. “Nice guy, but, yeah, I think he got bit late one night.” Laughter rippled down the line of Piermont’s players. “And there’s the snap ...” The thud of the loudspeaker silenced the group. “Oh ... look at that throw!” The stands erupted in cheers. Louis rose to his feet alongside the others, surprising himself with a shout of triumph as the ball landed firm in an Eagle’s hands. His gaze strayed to the sidelines, picking out Dorothy doing a backflip. He started at an elbow planted firm in his side. “Wake up, big man.” Donovan laughed. “The play’s over.” Sheepish, Louis took a seat. “You even see they made a touchdown?” “Huh? They did?” More laughter crisscrossed the players. “Dude ... he’s in loooove ...” someone singsonged. “Don’t knock it ’til you try it,” someone else replied. “Besides ... look at those legs.” Louis took a playful swing toward the speaker’s head. “Those legs are mine,” he growled, “but I’d be glad to introduce you to the girl at her side.” “Oh, no, you don’t,” Donovan said. “I’ve got dibs on that one. Dorothy

promised.” Louis brow rose. “When did you talk to her?” Donovan cleared his throat. “Oops. I was supposed to keep it quiet.” Louis angled himself more toward his friend. “Keep it quiet about what?” His friend lowered his voice, although no way Dorothy could hear them. “She called me, said she wanted to double date, and she had the perfect girl for me.” Double date? Louis glanced back toward the field, staring at Dorothy, her arms raised, pom-poms shimmering. Why would she want to double date? Not that he was opposed, but she didn’t trust him? “I believe her words were, ‘My grandmother likes Louis, but she’d like a football field between us. Care to explain?” Donovan asked. Louis quirked a smile. “We may have been too ... enthusiastic ... last time I took her home.” Donovan’s eyebrows rose. “You were making out in her driveway?” “Well, it seemed okay at the time ...” “Wake up you two.” Q smacked them both on the head. “While you were discussing your love lives, we hit halftime.” Halftime? Louis shoved to his feet, not speaking, and crossed over his friends’ knees. Taking the steps two at a time, he hit the bottom, jutted right, and stepped into the line of Eagles headed toward the locker room. Searching amongst them, he spotted Drew and snatched at his sleeve. Drew halted, a smile on his face. “Saw you brought the entire team. I appreciate it.” “The least we could do. Of course, next time you face us ... different story.” Drew laughed and shook his head. “Yeah ...” He made a faux angry face and curled his hand into a fist. “And here’s what you’ll see if you hurt Dorothy.”

“Not gonna happen.” “Boys ... boys ...” Dorothy poked between them. “We still have half a game to play. Pack up the testosterone.” Louis clasped hands with Drew and shook it, then Drew jogged after his team. “What’s this about a double date?” he asked her. Dorothy slowly backed away. “Uhm ... wh-what double date ... I didn’t ... Yeah ... I gotta go.” With a shrug, she spun around and headed back for the field. The clap of drums and fast-paced honk of the marching band drowned out people’s chatter. Nonplussed, Louis made his way back to his seat. He faced his friends, half of them making kissy faces. “Yeah ... keep it up,” he said. “And think of that when the rest of you are home watching TV.”

FROM THE AUTHOR

I DON’T SET OUT TO give every story a moral. Some seem to simply turn out that way. This one, early on, I could sense was about integrity. A lot is said about the moral degradation of today’s youths. We, as adults, can only blame that on ourselves. What we haven’t taught the younger generation, they won’t know how to do, and keeping one’s word is one of the biggest things we’ve failed at. The Bible says a man “sweareth to his own hurt”. This means, what we say, we do, no matter how painful it ends up being. Louis Buntz learned this from his stepdad. Steve became a father figure, albeit a goofy one, as the story unfolded, but the example a high-schooler needed to model himself by, and Louis used that same mentality to stand up to his coach. You also see it in Donovan, who saw what his friend was willing to do for it and followed along. I would like to believe there are kids out there who’d do the same thing. In fact, I know there are, and God bless the parental figure who taught them how. Suzanne D. Williams www.feelgoodromance.com

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

BEST-SELLING AUTHOR, Suzanne D. Williams, is a native Floridian, wife, mother, and photographer. She is the author of both nonfiction and fiction books. She writes devotionals and instructional articles for various blogs. She also does graphic design for self-publishing authors. She is co-founder of THE EDGE. To learn more about what she’s doing and check out her extensive catalog of stories, visit http://www.feelgoodromance.com or www.suzannedwilliams.com or link with her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/suzannedwilliamsauthor or on Twitter at https://twitter.com/SDWAuthor. If you have enjoyed this book, please the author by leaving a book review. Thank you!

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