The crowd started to applaud as the player began to limp off the field, one arm over the trainer.
“Hey, that was Kyle Jankowski,” Adam said as he clapped louder.
Poor Kyle, I thought. Then it registered that Kyle was one of the wide receivers.
I looked over and caught Mrs. Rodgers’s eye. I didn’t know if it was appropriate to be hopeful that Levi would get pulled in at the expense of another player’s health. But that was exactly what happened.
Levi started to jog out onto the field.
“GO, LEVI!” Adam shouted loudly, and patted me on the back.
I felt my heart beat faster. But I was sure it was nothing compared to what Levi was going through.
The team lined up and the ball was snapped to Jacob Thomas, the quarterback. He moved back and surveyed the players making their way down the field. Jacob always had more time than most quarterbacks in the district because Keith was his left tackle. No opposing player really had a chance of getting to him with Keith blocking.
Jacob threw the ball long down the field. I held my breath, conflicted about whether I wanted the ball to be thrown to Levi or not. While I wanted him to score, I also didn’t want him to drop the ball and be accountable for a loss. Even though I always thought it was unfair that one player was either applauded or vilified if they scored or didn’t in the last seconds of a game. The other players on the team were responsible for their getting to that moment. One player does not a team or victory make.
It was an incomplete pass. The team quickly scrambled near the forty-yard line. There were less than twenty seconds on the clock. The ball snapped. Jacob kept shuffling back, looking for an opening. We were at fifteen seconds. The crowd was on its feet. The ball sailed through the air. It was headed straight to Levi, who was running fast toward the end zone.
I swear time stood still for those few seconds. The entire place was silent. Everybody’s eyes were following the ball’s trajectory.
Levi held his arms out, his focus clear.
He jumped up slightly and caught the ball. He hesitated for a second, probably shocked that the ball was safe in his arms. He turned around and sprinted to the end zone.
The stands erupted in applause while the remaining players arrived in the end zone to celebrate their victory.
Adam and I hugged each other. We hugged the people next to us. I made my way over to Levi’s mom and dad.
“That was amazing!” I said as Dr. Rodgers picked me up.
Celebrating with Levi’s parents felt right. They were like my family — that hadn’t changed. I knew we’d get back to the place we once were. You don’t just toss family aside.
I glanced down at the field. Stacey ran over with the other cheerleaders and joined in the commotion. He quickly kissed her before the team hoisted him up.
Levi was beaming. This was all he ever wanted: to be part of a team. One of the guys.
The elation I felt quickly evaporated. While I knew I should be happy for him, I had to face the truth.
I knew right then that I had lost him for good.
It’s truly amazing what winning a game can do for someone’s confidence. Or ego.
I texted Levi after the game on Friday to congratulate him and never heard back. I saw him in the parking lot at school that Monday morning and gave him a wave, but he was too busy being the athletic stud he’d always dreamed of to notice me.
The entire school kept talking about it as if we’d never won a football game before. Nobody seemed to remember that it had been an extremely boring game for the first three quarters. Apparently, the last twenty seconds were the only thing that mattered. Had that play happened with two minutes left, we would’ve already moved on to something else.
And yes, I was being a horrible friend for not being more excited for Levi, but were we even friends anymore? We hadn’t talked in weeks. He had bigger (in no way better) people to spend his time with.
My annoyance was at an all-time high when I turned the corner on my way from English to see Levi walking with Tim and Keith. They had on their letter jackets and walked down the hallways with that athletic air of superiority that I never quite understood. So you can throw a ball or hit a ball or do something with a ball rather well — that entitles you to some kind of hero worship? The band kids with their musical talents didn’t walk around like we should all feel lucky to be graced with their presence.
I reminded myself that only a small percentage of their team would end up playing sports in college, and an even smaller percentage would go on to become professional athletic egomaniacs, if any at all. So at most, Keith would sit around twenty years from now, fat and balding, recounting the glory days of his high school athletic career.
I wanted to believe, at least hope, that my best years were ahead of me. It would be too depressing to fathom if high school was as good as it got.
“Hey, Macallan,” Keith sang out to me.
I grimaced as I passed by.
“Oh, it must be someone’s time of the month.” Keith snickered. “You’ve got to have that marked on your calendar, right, California? Can’t imagine you want to be near her when that hits.”
First, ew. Second, was that the best Keith could come up with for a reason to not be pleased as punch to talk to him? It couldn’t be that he was a complete tool, so it must be a womanly function.
I stopped in the hallway. I should’ve ignored him and kept going, but I wasn’t in the mood for his crap today.
“Is that the best you got?” I spat out.
The three of them stopped, and all of them turned around except Levi. Who muttered something about ignoring me.
Keith smirked at me. “Oh, I’ve got much more, but I don’t think you could handle it.”
Keith was used to getting what he wanted. And in that moment, I wanted to get under his skin. To have someone else feel dejected for a change.
“Believe me, Keith, I’m sure I can handle it just fine, since you apparently only know about women from what you find out in health class. So try me.”
Tim did that “oh” thing guys do when they try to one up each other. “She did not just say that.” He was laughing. Levi remained motionless.
Keith was not as amused. “Honestly, Macallan, I’ve so got you outnumbered in terms of intelligence.”
That was laughable.
Seeing his smug face infuriated me so much. He’d taken Levi away from me, and I wasn’t going to be so easy on him this time.
I leaned in toward him. “You do know that a D on a paper is not for dope job, yo, right?”
Keith sized me up, and then a smile slowly spread across his face, like he knew he’d gotten me. But there was no way Keith was going to get me. As a date, in an argument, ever.
“Well, yeah.” Then he slurred his voice. “I’m not part retard.”
I was stunned for a second.
I walked a few steps closer. Levi took a few steps back. “Excuse me — would you care to repeat that?” I was convinced that even Keith wouldn’t stoop so low.
He bent his arms up toward his collarbone and let his wrists go limp so his hands were dangling. He collapsed his legs together at the knees and started to walk like he had a disability. “I don’t know, can I? What’s repeat mean?”
Before I could understand my movements, I pushed Keith. Hard. He stepped back a few inches. Then he laughed. Which angered me more.
“Macallan.” Levi grabbed my arm. “Calm down.”
I shoved him away. “No, I will not calm down. And how are you going to stand here like that when he’s making fun of my uncle, who, need I remind you, has been nothing but kind to you? Has never said a bad word about anybody? Who certainly would never be so cruel as to make fun of somebody?” My voice started to crack. I could feel my entire body start to shake.
“God.” Keith looked shocked at my behavior. “I’m sorry, Macallan. I thought you could take a joke.”
“Do you find this funny?” I asked, my voice hard. I didn’t
want to cry in front of Keith. I could not let him know that he had gotten to me. “You’re so pathetic. I can’t wait to see you in ten years when the reality of life outside these walls hits you.”
His face became as hard as my voice. “You think you’re so tough and above it all, don’t you? But guess what. Just because your mom’s dead doesn’t mean you can be such a bitch.”
A rage I could not describe, one that I hadn’t felt in years, overtook my body. Even though I could see that the second those words left his mouth, he regretted them, it was too little, too late. Keith could say what he wanted about me, but how dare he bring up my mom.
I wanted to shut him up. And I did that the only way I knew how.
He wasn’t lucky like Levi to get a kiss from me.
Instead, I tightened up my fists and hit him right in the kisser.
Keith, Mr. Athlete Extraordinaire, was knocked onto his butt.
I towered over him. “You say one more word to me ever again about my family, and I will not be so gentle.”
I turned on my heel and came face-to-face with Mr. Matthews, the gym teacher.
“Miss Dietz, I think you need to come to the office, and that goes for you gentlemen as well.”
“She attacked me!” Keith cried out.
“That’s enough, Mr. Simon.” Mr. Matthews stepped in between us. “Don’t think I didn’t hear what you were saying.”
The four of us followed Mr. Matthews to the office. I was put in a separate room from them. I knew I was in trouble. I knew my flawless school record was in jeopardy. But I didn’t care. I was angry. I was mad at the world. And why shouldn’t I have been? I’d had the most important thing taken away from me without explanation. There were times where I was able to be strong. Many instances where I could pretend that everything was fine.
But sometimes a girl just needs her mother.
The wait in the principal’s office felt like forever. I had the entire time to reevaluate how I acted. I remembered once in first grade I’d been mad at this fourth-grade boy who always teased me during recess. He’d call me names and sometimes throw sticks at me.
I finally told Mom about it. I said that I hated him and I wanted to punch him in the face.
Mom said I should never hit anybody, because violence was never the answer. That hitting someone showed that you cared. And you should never give someone that kind of power over you.
But it wasn’t Keith I was mad at. Or cared about.
The door finally opened and I saw my father. I felt so guilty for having to bring him in. I never wanted to be responsible for one of those calls.
“Hey, Calley,” Dad said softly to me. He only called me this when he was worried about his “baby girl.”
Principal Boockmeier motioned for him to sit down. I couldn’t even look at my father, I was so horrified by my behavior.
“Well, I filled in your father about what happened. It seems that Levi’s and Tim’s stories matched. Keith’s seemed to be a bit more dramatic.” Principal Boockmeier pursed her lips, like she was holding in a laugh. “While I understand you were provoked, what Keith said, though unfortunate, did not warrant your response. We have a very tough policy on violence of any kind, and you did hit him. So you’ll be suspended for the rest of the week and have after-school detention for two weeks. If there are no more incidents, this will not go on your college transcripts.”
I was shocked and relieved. Thanksgiving was this week, so I was only going to miss two days. And there was a chance it wouldn’t totally mess up my record.
I quickly got up and followed Dad out of school. He stayed silent on the car ride home. I looked down at my sore, slightly red right hand.
The car stopped and Dad shut off the engine. I looked up and found us in the Culver’s parking lot.
“What …” I mumbled.
Dad turned to me, tears in his eyes. “I can’t say that was a fun call to get, Macallan. But then I heard from both Principal Boockmeier and Levi about what happened and, well … your mother was one of the sweetest people on earth. She wouldn’t have hurt a fly.”
Tears began to well up in my eyes. I’d let my father down and, worse, I’d let my mother down.
“But” — he put his hand on mine — “she would never have tolerated anybody talking crap about her family. That would not go over well. Your mother would’ve done the same thing, sweetheart. You remind me more and more of her every day, and while I might not be able to help you with everything she could, I’m so proud of you. She would’ve been, too.”
“Really?” Tears were coming out harder now.
“Of course.” Dad held on to my hand tightly. “And I know she’s looking down on you right now, probably laughing a little, and wishing she could be here with you. She’d want me to treat you to some custard for being strong and standing up for your uncle, and for yourself.”
I pictured Mom as Dad described her, and knew he was right. She’d never tolerated anybody treating Adam differently. One of the things Dad said he loved most about her when they first started dating was that she never babied Adam. She treated his younger brother like everybody else. She certainly wouldn’t have allowed anybody to speak to him, or me, that way.
“Is that a smile I’m seeing?” Dad asked.
I nodded. “You’re right. I know Mom would be proud. She’d be proud of both of us, Dad.” He seemed surprised about my confession, but I wasn’t the only person who’d lost somebody. “Let’s go get some custard.”
I’m so sorry, Macallan. You know how awful I feel about what happened. I should’ve stepped in, I should’ve punched him in the face. I can’t believe I acted like such a wimp. It really is a miracle you ever talked to me again. And I’m grateful that I’ve never had to experience your right hook.
I’m so sorry, I know I shouldn’t joke about that.
I’m such an idiot.
Blimey if I didn’t deserve a punch in the face.
I’m so sorry.
Moving on.
I needed to clear my head.
So I did the only thing I could think of to make me feel better.
Run.
Since football season was over, I didn’t have to worry about running too long and burning off extra calories. Or have to think about keeping my weight up. Or think about anything.
I only had to run.
I’ll admit that catching that ball and hearing the cheering was amazing. I understand how people can get caught up in moments like that. How you want to keep reliving one small fraction of time when you felt invincible.
My dad has this friend who always makes him tell this story about a baseball game from back in high school. Every time the guy’s over, he tells it. And we sit there like we haven’t heard it a million times before. I thought it was pathetic, how you could look back on something so insignificant as one game, one play, and think that was the greatest moment in your life.
But then I totally got it.
I was THE MAN. The hero. The MVP. And all I had to do was catch a ball. One that Jacob threw with precision. Did he get the credit he deserved? Not as much as I did.
There I was on a total ego high when Macallan had to come in and crash the party.
And what did THE MAN, the hero, the MVP do? He stood there terrified and did nothing.
NOTHING.
I had to recount what happened not only to the principal, but to Macallan’s dad. He looked so upset when he arrived at school, then had to listen to me tell him how brave his daughter had been.
While I’d just stood there.
I had to tell him all the awful things Keith had said.
While I’d just stood there.
I’d never felt more like a loser in my life.
Before I really knew where I was running to, I ended up at Riverside Park. I’d been running so hard, I could see my breath come out in short spurts. I walked a bit to cool down, even though the cold weather was already helping with that.
I normally didn’t run that
hard when it was early winter, but I needed to get some distance from what had happened the day before.
I’d begun to walk forward to the swings when I noticed someone stretching, out over by the picnic tables. I abruptly stopped when I realized it was Macallan. She had her right leg up on the table and was bending over to stretch out her hamstrings.
Confusion swirled around whether I should approach her or walk away before she saw me.
I stepped forward. It was about time I started acting like the stud I’d been pretending to be for the past week. Or more accurately, past few months.
“Hey!” I called out to her.
She spun around quickly. “Oh, hey.” She paused for a second before continuing to stretch.
“You just starting?”
“Nope, I’m done.”
I knew that. I knew her routine. She was happy running for herself. To help clear her head. She didn’t need the justification of a team or a crowd to do something.
I had no idea what to do. I wanted to make things right between us, but I wasn’t sure at what cost. So I would start with what I should’ve done months ago: apologize.
“Macallan, about —”
She cut me off. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“He’s a jerk,” I offered.
Her lip curled slightly. “He’s your best friend.”
I wanted to say No, he’s not. You are. But I hadn’t been acting like a friend to her, let alone a best friend.
I opened my mouth, trying to think of something to say to mend this tension between us. The words that came out were: “See you at Thanksgiving.”
See you at Thanksgiving? I should’ve asked her to punch me right then and there. Maybe she would’ve knocked some sense into me.
“Yeah.” She began to walk away.
“Hey, Macallan,” I called after her. “Is it okay that we’re still coming?”
She hesitated briefly. “Of course.”
While that pause was only a couple seconds, it was long enough for me to know I’d done some real damage.