The next day, Saturday, I arrived at Carter and Alex’s dorm room before noon. I couldn’t get enough football. I put off any homework I had just to be there early and hang around. The Gators were opening their season against Appalachian State that night. It was supposed to be a real cupcake game, with Gainesville favored by nearly four touchdowns.
Alex was finishing a set of five hundred sit-ups, twisting his midsection to touch his elbows to the opposite knee and letting out an umph with each one.
Carter sat at his desk, going back and forth between his playbook and a chapter in some reading for a political science class. I settled on the floor with my back up against Carter’s bed, playing Angry Birds on my brother’s laptop.
“This game’s addictive,” I said, using a slingshot to launch another bird at those stupid pigs.
Alex popped up off the floor and asked me to mute the volume.
“I’m going to grab some shut-eye,” Alex said, stretching out on the other bed in the room. “Team meal’s at three-thirty. Wake me up fifteen minutes before that.”
Then he buried his face beneath a pillow. The game wasn’t the same without the sound. So I started searching around the room for something else to do.
“Help me study,” Carter said in a quiet voice. “You can quiz me on my notes.”
“I don’t know anything about political science,” I told him. “I’m not even old enough to vote.”
“I was talking about my playbook,” Carter said.
“Really? You told me that was super-secret stuff. For Gators’ eyes only,” I said.
“You’re a season closer now. But hey, if you don’t want to help . . .”
“No, I’ll do it,” I said, taking the notes from his hand.
For nearly an hour, we went through all the play calls, audibles, and check-downs at the line of scrimmage. Carter had them pretty much memorized, but I helped him on a few. At the very end, I started calling out audibles for him like I was changing the play at the line myself.
Out of nowhere, Carter grinned wide and said, “Breakdown on the O-line.” Then he pounced from his chair and tackled me to the floor. “Quarterback sack!”
That’s when Alex jumped out of his bed, hollering, “What’s with you clowns? I asked for quiet, right? Can’t sleep for nothing around here!”
He stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.