Chapter 15

Jeff

We didn’t say much at first as I drove Scooter home.

“You were right,” Scooter finally said.

“About what?”

I had the high beams on since we were driving on unlit dirt roads. Another car appeared, so I flipped the high beams off.

“About Morgyn,” Scooter said. “She’s really cool. Hanging out with her, it was like . . .”

His voice trailed off as he tried to find the right word.

“A break from your life?” I suggested.

He didn’t answer, but out of the corner of my eye I saw him nod.

“That’s how I feel too. Morgyn couldn’t care less about my football career,” I said. “I mean that in a good way. She’s got her own priorities. Her parents are wilderness guides—they’re gone a lot. She does a lot of fending for herself.” Scooter still didn’t say anything, but he was looking at me so I figured he was interested. “She goes to St. Amelia’s, which is an all-girls, Catholic school. Sports really aren’t a big deal there, and they definitely don’t have their own team. She’s never been to a pep rally in her life.”

“How’d you meet her?” Scooter asked.

“Boy Scouts,” I told him.

He lifted his eyebrows in surprise.

“She switched over from Girl Scouts. Said she’d rather learn how to build a fire than go door-to-door selling cookies.”

“Is that allowed?” Scooter asked.

I turned onto the highway and felt the road go from bumpy to smooth.

“There was some special program. Not everyone in the troop liked it at first, but eventually we realized she was a better Boy Scout than we were. Then she quit.”

“Why?”

“I think she was sick of the group projects. I mean, she likes people—but she wants to do her own thing.” I paused for a moment. “Kind of like how I need a break from our school sometimes. From football.”

Scooter told me which roads to turn on to get to his apartment.

“Why do you need a break from football?” he asked.

I know I had brought it up, but the question caught me by surprise.

“I mean,” he continued, “you’re a star player. Everyone at the party clearly thought you were awesome. Why do you want a break from that?”

I pulled up to his apartment and put the car in park.

I’d just gotten done telling him all about Morgyn, but I wasn’t ready to tell him about me. The answer to his question was that I needed a break from the pressure. Ever since I was in middle school I’d been training—running, hitting the weights—all so I could get a scholarship and keep playing football in college. But so far that scholarship hadn’t come. And I was running out of time. Every carry felt like one of my last chances to impress college scouts who probably weren’t even in the stands. I needed a break from football because I needed to figure out what to do if I couldn’t keep playing.

But I didn’t tell him any of this because I barely knew him. I didn’t mind hanging with him outside of football. But on the field, we weren’t friends or even just teammates. We were rivals.

It’s not that I thought he was a bad guy—or that I even believed he was going to take my snaps. But I’m competitive. And I wasn’t about to bare my soul to my competition.

“Long story,” I told him instead. “See you at practice, man.”