“Finger is healed.”
The morning after the Strange’s final regular season win, I watched the clock on my auto-splint tick down and announce its work was done. With a hiss, it loosened and fell off. I rubbed the finger and found it perfectly healed. The skin was also moisturized and clean, not looking at all like it hadn’t seen air in five weeks.
My broken finger hadn’t impeded learning how to quarterback from the sidelines. Every game, I picked up something new from quarterback meetings with Coach Carson as he reviewed what Jimmy had to look out for from the defense or something technical in his throwing motion. As Jimmy helped us breeze through two playoff games in the cold December air, I started believing I wouldn’t need any special power to be a quarterback in another year or two. I spent extra time watching tape of our opponents with Jimmy and Jesse.
I increased the toughness of my workouts as we won two playoff games, and I actually made Coach Carson whistle out loud when he watched me throw once. “That’s what I’m talking about, Ptuiac,” he said.
Next week was the state championship game against Harmon High School, and the entire town was buzzing about it. Strangers—what students jokingly called our school’s supporters in town—saw my varsity jacket and shook my hand, wishing me luck.
The one thing that hadn’t happened was another activation—not that there was anything to scare me or inflict pain—and I found myself wishing I’d get to be a superhero again.
“This is Kenny Lupino.” I snapped out of my daydream as Coach Carson laser-pointed at the projection on the screen. I sat alongside Jesse and Jimmy in a darkened classroom as Carson ran the quarterback meetings. With the championship game coming up in a few days, the team took every moment it had to practice, study the Harmon Hogs, and prepare mentally for what was sure to be an epic battle.
He used a laptop with a projector to give us our lesson on the Hogs. Lupino was a very tall, very muscular player wearing number 43. Got it. “Get to know him very, very well, gentlemen. Identifying where he is at all times will win us this football game.”
He clicked on a file and a video popped up. We watched highlights of No. 43 in his white jersey, his long, curly hair spilling out of the back of his helmet, as he tracked down a running back with blazing speed and knocked him hard to the ground. The running back came up limping. The next clip featured Lupino covering a wide receiver. He pushed the tight end at the line and followed him step for step. When the ball was thrown, Kenny snagged an interception. Another clip, another amazing play: he sidestepped a large blocker at the line and sacked a quarterback who didn’t see him coming, forcing a fumble that Lupino then picked up and ran back for a touchdown.
Jimmy leaned back and grinned. “C’mon, now. I get the picture.”
“You’d better, Claw,” Carson responded. “We’ve never faced someone like this. He’s a one-man wrecking crew and a High School All-American like yourself, Jimmy.”
He went on to explain how to spot Lupino before every play. If we saw him line up in one area, the Hogs tended to send him after a quarterback in a blitz. If he stepped forward before the snap, it was a fake, and the pressure would come from another place. Lupino tended to be in a different place on nearly every play. Just when you had him figured out, he’d improvise.
Jimmy didn’t seem to care. “That’s all I need to know? I can handle it. I got like fifteen audibles to deal with safeties wherever they are on the field.
I understood what he meant. Jimmy had used audibles at the line to change up plays before the snap all season long, with defenses throwing everything they could at him. He didn’t think this guy was anything special. Once again, I couldn’t understand how he was so calm.
“You ain’t seen someone like this, Jimmy,” said a voice from the back of the room. We turned around to see our burly Southern head coach heading to the front of the room. “I don’t mean to scare you three, but this kid’s a nightmare. When you change up that play, he’s gonna do the same with the defense. The play clock’ll be running down, he’ll run to the other side of the line. No time left. You snap it … and he snaps you. This ain’t about using your body to get out of this. You’re gonna have to outsmart his outsmarting. And that means y’all will have to prepare like Jimmy ain’t playing.”
Our starting quarterback looked indignant, glaring at Coach Schmick. “So you think I ain’t ready for this?” he asked, leaning forward in his seat.
Schmick shook his head. “It’s gonna take a lot more than you saying you’re ready to prove it.”
Schmick went over to the computer and clicked on one of the videos of the Hogs’ defense. Following Carson’s instructions, I spotted Lupino walking toward the line, almost casually. “We’ve called Thirty-Four Heavy Power Right. What’s your next call?”
Translation: A simple handoff to the right with our meaty fullback leading the way for our running back. With a safety up at the line, especially one as talented as Lupino, the running back would probably be stuffed for no gain. Schmick stopped the video for a second.
“Seventy-Five Bat! Seventy-Five Bat!” Jimmy shouted out at the screen. That’s an audible for the fullback and the running back to pass block and for Jimmy to throw a quick pass to a one of our receivers, who’d slant toward the middle of the field. Schmick took a second and clicked on another video, which showed Lupino once again moving toward the line before the snap. As soon as the quarterback soundlessly called for the ball, Lupino didn’t rush or stay to stop the run. We watched as he darted to his right, intercepted a quick slant, and ran it back for yet another defensive touchdown.
“Fine. What about calling Twenty-Nine Engine?” That was another audible into a pass play, where he’d take a long five-step drop and throw a bomb to our slot receiver, who’d take advantage of one safety covering him down the middle. Schmick shook his head and clicked.
This time, Lupino headed to the line at the snap and got blocked by one of the offensive linemen, but that freed up a defensive tackle to pancake the opposing quarterback, who stayed down and didn’t move.
Jimmy went silent. Schmick walked over to the computer and clicked to Lupino’s team photo, a portrait of him in a suit with his hair pulled back in a long ponytail. He grinned back at us, as if to say, “I’m coming for you.” Kenny’s ears appeared to be pointy and that smile seemed full of sharp teeth. I couldn’t hear what Schmick’s final words were about the safety before our meeting adjourned. Was Lupino one of us? Or was I just looking for something that may not be there?
“Ptuiac. My office. Now.”
Coach Carson snapped me out of my trance. I realized I was the last person left in the room. I picked up my playbook and walked to his office.
“How you feeling?” he opened the conversation as we sat down on the comfy couch in his office.
“Fine, I guess.”
“Good, good,” he said. “You’ve been doing some real good work on the field lately. Coach is really impressed with how hard you’re working. It takes a lot for a guy like that to notice you, so congratulations. I think he’s considering putting you into competition with Jesse next fall.”
I couldn’t believe it. I had a future on the team that could lead to a starting role next year. Before I could respond, he got up and closed the door.
“Listen. I heard about your debate with Dex the other day. I just want to make something clear. I don’t want you worrying about what would happen if your powers went off on the field. I’ve watched it happen, and nothing looks out of the ordinary to the naked eye. Plus, it’s out of your control, and we’ve got you and Dex and everybody you care about protected and then some.”
“But it’s not right. It’s cheating.”
Coach shook his head and chuckled. “Take a look at the Hogs when we play them and then tell me there’s no such thing as cheating. Everybody’s looking for an advantage.”