What happened at the the “Pit” on Saturday night was all everyone was talking about. Footage of the bus getting shaken back and forth was all over social media. There was also online video of Alice playing QB and running back a punt.
The whole thing restarted a debate that’d been going on for a long time.
How could androids possibly mix into human society? Should they be allowed to compete in spelling bees? In hot dog eating contests? In professional sports? Did they really deserve the same rights as humans? They’d been built to help humans, after all. Not replace them.
Would androids soon take over the world?
Danny tried to ignore it. That was tough, however. All day, he heard jokes and comments aimed at him. Before, he could walk down the hall with his shoulders out, proud about being on the football team. Now, he moved to his next class quickly, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.
Practice on Monday was a mess again.
They watched film for the first hour, and the coaches started in with the new game plans and formations. But the coaches didn’t seem into it, and neither did any of the players. They were all just going through the motions. The team was now 5–1 and ranked in the top three in the state. But more than half the division was calling them cheaters.
Alice wasn’t at practice. No one knew what to think of that.
When they did walk-throughs later on Monday, going through the plays they’d just learned, Danny took over QB duties again. There was no energy on the field. Danny figured he was partly to blame for that. But the coaches were distracted too. Monday’s practice ended long before six. The shortest practice in more than a month.
On Tuesday, Alice wasn’t at practice again.
Danny asked around and learned she hadn’t been at school either.
On Wednesday, Coach Williams called him over at the start of practice.
“Be ready to start on Friday,” he said.
“Of course,” Danny said. Just like that, it seemed he was back to first string.
He should’ve been happy—this was the news he’d been waiting for, after all. So what was this weird tugging in his gut?
“Where’s Alice?” he asked carefully.
Coach Williams looked at him. “What do you care, Noodle?”
Danny shrugged. “Just asking.”
“Think you know all the Pleasant Ridge defense blitzes yet?”
“Yup,” Danny said. “I got it.”
Williams shook his head. “Okay . . . Let’s have a good practice today.”
“Yes, sir.”
Danny jogged out to catch up with the others, who were stretching. He ran to the front beside Ox.
“You starting?” Ox whispered as they bent down to touch toes.
“Looks like it,” Danny said.
“Cool.”
Danny stood and began leading the whole team in high knee pulls.
He tried thinking about how he’d lead practice and the game on Friday. The new plays were already locked in his head. It was a great chance to show the coaches that they’d made a mistake putting him back on the bench. He was an okay receiver, but QB was really where he belonged. There were three games left in the regular season and then the postseason. By the time playoffs started, the thing with Alice would have blown over, the rest of the school would have moved on to other things to argue about, and the other teams would stop calling them cheaters. They’d be an all-human team again. But . . .
“Dude, what’re you doing?”
Danny looked over. The rest of the team had already gotten into rows for glute kicks and high knee runs and side lunges. Ox stood waiting for Danny to join and lead them.
He must have zoned out for a minute.
“You still got a concussion?” Ox asked.
Danny waved him to go ahead.
He was QB again. He should feel amazing. Instead, he felt like a bundle of nerves, every inch of him caught up with worry. Not about the plays, not about the game. But about the team. Or, to be honest, a certain member of the team.
A strange idea came into his head. And no matter how hard he tried during practice, the idea just kept getting bigger and clearer.
She hadn’t been to school or practice in three days. He kept picturing her sitting on the bus with that look on her face.
Danny chased down Garcia during a break. “Hey, do you know Alice’s number?” he asked.
Garcia shook her head. “They don’t have phones.”
Danny rolled his eyes. Androids received calls and texts directly into their digital brains. They didn’t have to talk or use their thumbs. “You know what I mean. Her, like, number-number? Her AndIP, or whatever they call it.”
“Oh,” Garcia said. “No, I don’t know it.”
“Okay, thanks anyway,” he sighed.
As he turned to walk away, Garcia called after him, “But I think I know where she lives.”