16 / FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 27—AFTER THE GAME

Joe Blatnik threw the big party at his house that night—his parents were out of town. Shane said I should come, but I had a date with my mom.

“Say hi to her for me,” he said. He used to hang out at our house all the time when we were younger.

“I will,” I said. “Actually, do you want to come?”

“No, thanks,” he said. “I can’t let everyone down. The boys can’t have fun without me, you know.”

Part of me felt like I should say thanks for taking a dive—for letting me play—but it seemed too weird. Instead, we shook hands and went our separate ways.

Mom and I went bowling, and she talked about her house and friends up in Harvest Valley. She told me about her job at the women’s clinic and how much fun it was hanging out with Janet and Daniel. She told me how she wished I were there too. When she dropped me at home, she gave me a long hug.

“I’m proud of you,” she said.

I went inside and got right in bed. I was drained. It had been a long, crazy, emotional day. But as soon as I turned the light off, Dad stepped in and turned it on again.

“Good game tonight,” he said.

“You listened on the radio?”

“I did. What happened on that second pick? Sounded like you didn’t look off the safety.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I guess. I’m pretty tired, Dad.”

“I understand. Better get some rest. It’s going to be an interesting week at practice. Coach Z is going to have a tough decision to make.”

“No, he isn’t.”

“Sure he is, son. You played a heck of a game.”

“I know. But Shane is better. He just is.”

Dad sat on the edge of the bed.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he said.

“I’m not. I’m selling myself exactly right. And it’s OK. I’m happy the way things are.”

“You had a taste of the glory,” he said. “Didn’t you like it?”

“I did. I liked it a lot. But a taste is all I need.”

He looked down at his hands. Thinking again. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” he said.

“There’s nothing else to talk about,” I said. I mustered up my courage. “You need to let it go, Dad.”

He looked like I’d slapped him. “What do you mean let it go?”

“Let me be my own person.”

He sat still for a minute. Finally, he said, “Well, good night, then.”

“I love you, Dad.”

He nodded as he walked out of the room.

Even though I was exhausted, I had trouble sleeping. I lay awake thinking half the night. I wanted to change a few things about myself. I wanted to pick up extra shifts at the café and make more money so I could get Dad’s back window fixed. And I wanted to buy my own car so I could visit Mom at least a couple times a month. I decided I’d commit to a university out of state that had strong academics and an unimportant division-two football team. Those were all things I could control—ways to make my life better.

But the main thing I kept thinking about was the end of that night’s football game. I liked that part a lot.

We’d been down thirty-one–twenty-seven, with half a minute left on the clock. We had the ball at the Harvest Valley thirty-eight.

Coach called for Orlando to run a fly pattern—he was the primary target on this play. If he was open, I had to hit him. I took a seven-step drop and scanned the field. Orlando had beaten his guy and had separation heading to the end zone. But I didn’t throw it to him. I pump-faked his way, and the Harvest Valley safety bit, stepping toward him. That left Ernie open on the other side, and I threw it his way. It was a beautiful pass, a tight spiral that shined under the stadium lights. The whole stadium watched along with me as Ernie reached out his big arms, caught it, and ran it in for the win.