“Don’t you think it’s pretty weird, dude, that we kept asking you if you were injured from that hit, but you lied and said you had the flu?” Twiggs asked. We sat on a bench outside the school, looking over the practice field. He wore his game jersey, like we all do on game days, except I didn’t have mine on. I hadn’t even thought about it that morning.
“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah. I don’t know why I lied. I didn’t want anyone to know about my concussion. It sounds worse than it is. My concussion. Not the lying part. That’s bad.”
“Well,” Twiggs said. “It’ll be fun in some ways, you know? Pretty much Riley hasn’t played defense since we were freshmen.”
I’d played some offense that year—running back. Riley had played my position, strong safety, and had been pretty good, although not as good as me because I like hitting and he doesn’t. “Riley?” I said. “Strong safety?”
“He didn’t tell you? Reynolds is going to start him both ways, QB and strong safety. If we get up quick—which we should, because who the hell is River Valley? They haven’t won a damn game all year . . . Reynolds will let Willis take over.”
Willis, a sophomore, was my backup, but he rarely got in. Never occurred to me that Riley would start at my position. My position . . .
My stomach balled up in a knot.
“Won’t be necessary. Riley doesn’t need to do that. I’m playing. Doctor said I could go back to normal activities. I’m in.”
“Ha ha,” Twiggs said.
“Ha ha?” I asked.
“Well. No, you aren’t playing,” he said. “You didn’t practice all week. You had a concussion. We’re playing River stupid Valley, who we can beat without you. You didn’t even show up for pizza last night. You’ve been lying and acting like a dumbass, and that says to me and to everyone else, you aren’t playing, dude. You’re some kind of alien version of yourself right now. You’ll probably drop your eyes again if you play right now. You want to get injured for life? Wait and play next week against Prairie, when we need you and when your scrambled brain isn’t leaking out of your damn ear, okay?”
“No,” I said. “I have to play.”
“Dude, what the hell?” Twiggs said. “I’m super dumb, but I’m not dumb enough to play the week after a concussion like you got. That’s just ridiculous. Coach isn’t going to let you play, anyway.”
“Shit, shit, shit,” I said. I dropped my head into my hands.
“You’ll be okay, buddy.” Twiggs patted me on the back. “Next week will be here soon.”