Till Death Do Us Part

  * * *

  On Friday, Coach told me Jason had put in two good practices and seemed like his old self again. Coach thanked me, although I told him I didn't really do anything.

  Benjaim had nothing new to report when I got home from school so we decided it was okay if I went to Jason's game. I think he also knew that Jason needed me there and that at least Jason, his mom, Cathy and I would be in one place. I had no doubt he and the others planned to scout the area around the school during the game.

  I met Cathy at the school since it was a home game and her mom helped with concessions. We lingered by the field, waiting for the team to come out so they could do the helmet thing with me, but there was obviously something wrong with Cathy.

  "You okay?" I said.

  She looked at me with a blank expression. "I don't know."

  "What do you mean you don't know?"

  "I don't feel anything. Look." She smacked her hand on the top of the fence. "Nothing."

  The back of her hand bruised immediately.

  "A precursor to a vision?" I whispered.

  "It's never happened like that before—it's like I'm blind."

  "Well, don't worry about it, I'm sure it's nothing. Oh look, here come the boys."

  Jason, Alex and Matt led the charge out of the locker room and started our ritual helmet slap. When the final player jogged past, Cathy and I started for our usual seats. Halfway up the aisle, Cathy stopped. I looked past her. Dillon and his freshman friends were in our seats. I looked back to the field, but Jason and the coaches were busy with pregame warm-ups.

  "I guess we'll have to handle this." I said, squeezing past Cathy. "Come on."

  Dillon looked up amused when we got to them.

  "You guys are in our seats." I said.

  "Says who?" Dillon said as he stood to block our path.

  "You know, as well as everyone else, that Cathy and I sit here every game."

  "Free country." One of his friends said.

  "Tell you what, how about we arm wrestle for it?" I offered.

  Dillon and his friends burst out laughing. "You kiddin'?" Dillon said.

  "Afraid I'll beat you?"

  "Afraid I'll brake your freakin' arm?" he shot back.

  "Not at all. Where do you want to do this?"

  Dillon stepped back and bent one of his friend's over. "On his back." Dillon sat down on the bleacher on the far side of his friend.

  "Can I borrow your gloves?" I said to Cathy.

  "Sure." While she pulled them off, she whispered to me, "Are you sure about this?"

  I slipped on her gloves. "It'll be fine, no one will be the wiser."

  "If you say so."

  I sat down next to the boy that was bent over. "How does this go?"

  Again, Dillon and his friends burst out laughing.

  "Okay Miss Smarty Pants, it's like this. We put our elbows on his back, then lock hands and then lock our other hands under them." He set his hands in position. "Like this."

  "And when I beat you, Cathy and I get our seats back, right?"

  "More like when I beat you, you get the 'F' outta here."

  I set my elbow on the boy's back and gently took Dillon's hand.

  "You wearin' gloves? If our hands slip, you lose."

  "That's fine, they won't slip." I reached my other hand under our hands and grasped Dillon's other hand. "Do we push, or pull?" I mocked.

  Dillon looked confused, wiggling his hand back and forth. "Push you idiot." His friends had moved out of our seats, and packed in around us.

  "Who says go?" I asked.

  "On the count of three," Dillon said. One, two, three." His face turned red as he pushed. Of course our hands didn't move.

  "One, two, three," one of his friends repeated.

  Dillon leaned forward to push harder as some of his friends started to laugh. I leaned in next to him.

  "So now what?" I whispered. "If I beat you you'll be the laughing stock of the freshman class—maybe the entire school when word gets around."

  "You can't beat me." He let out a grunt as he pushed with all his might.

  I pressed his arm halfway down toward the boy's back, but let it come back up to the top. The vein in his forehead bulged. "Or, I could let you win and you will leave us alone for the rest of the year." I let my arm lean back toward the boy's back.

  His friends cheered.

  I pulled his hand back up to the top. "So, what's it going to be, big guy?" I bounced his arm toward defeat.

  "Okay, okay, we'll leave you alone, freak."

  "What was that?"

  "We'll leave you alone, already."

  I slowly let my arm lean back until it touched his other arm.

  "Boom!" Dillon jumped up triumphantly. "That's what I'm talkin' bout."

  "Took you long enough." One of the boys joked.

  "What you say?" Dillon jumped toward him.

  I stood and stared at him—one of my evil stares.

  "Come on," Dillon said, "I'm not sitting next to the freaks."

  He stomped down the bleachers with his friends in tow.

  I turned to Cathy. "Shall we?"

  Cathy smiled. "Nice."

  Alex almost returned the opening kickoff for a touchdown, but gave us the ball on the opponents fifteen yard line. Jason and the offense trotted out onto the field. Three plays later we scored. Jason did his point, fist to his heart thing and I waved back. He was off to a good start and the adrenalin should kick in and take care of the rest.

  There offense turned out to be the best we'd faced and they were able to march their first possession down the field and tie the game. We scored on our next possession. This was shaping up to be a real offensive shootout. Midway through the second quarter, I realized Jason was looking up at me more than usual—that probably wasn't good.

  "He's losing focus." I said.

  "He keeps looking up here, at you." Cathy confirmed.

  We wound up having to punt after Jason through an errant pass. Fortunately, time ran out before the other team could score. At the half, the score was 21-21. Coach looked up as he led the boys back to the locker room for halftime. He looked real worried.

  "It's me," I told Cathy, "he's thinking of me, not the game, but if I leave, he'll worry. What do I do?"

  "When you say , 'thinking of you', you don't mean—you wouldn't?"

  "No! Of course not."

  "Oh." she sighed.

  "But it doesn't stop him from thinking about it." I said.

  "Seriously?"

  "Yes."

  "I had no idea, I mean you're like two different species."

  "Not funny."

  "I didn't mean it like a joke."

  "How did we get on this subject?" I huffed.

  "You said Jason is distracted. I have no idea what to do." She looked down at the concession stand. "The crowd has died down, do you think we can get some hot chocolate, or will we lose our seats?"

  "No, we won't lose our seats, but you go ahead, I'll stay here just in case."

  "Okay, thanks." Cathy headed down to the concession stand, leaving me to try and figure out what to do. My head sank down into my hands. This was impossible. We'd been together all this time and there had never been this kind of problem. It had to be the stress, football, the historian—he was trying to figure out a way for us to escape, but how was I going to turn him around?

  "Izzy, are you alright?"

  I looked up. "Oh, Mrs. Whitaker." I forced a smile. "I'm okay, just worried."

  "Do you mind?" She motioned toward the seats.

  "No, of course not."

  "He's not having one of his better games. I think it might be carry over from last week."

  "Really?"

  "He's been out of sorts most of the week, since he came home from staying with you."

  And there it was. She put it right out in the open—on me.

  "I swear, nothing happened. I wouldn't betray you like that—or Elizabeth—or Jason—or myself."

&nbs
p; "I know. I didn't mean that like it sounded. True, there was a time I might have, but I think we have a better understanding of each other, don't you?"

  I nodded. "But he's distracted."

  "He is only human."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Have you looked in a mirror lately? You are the most beautiful girl in the stands, maybe all of Boonsboro."

  "I'm not—"

  "You don't need to feel self conscious. You remember when you told me that it didn't matter what you did, you and Jason were drawn back together?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, we may just have to accept that that kind of attraction comes at a price."

  "So you do think this is my fault."

  "No." She patted my leg. "This is no more your fault than it was Eve's when Adam ate the apple."

  "Oh high Mrs. Whitaker." Cathy said, squeezing past us.

  "Hi, Cathy." Mrs. Whitaker stood. "I'll leave you two to watch the game. Go Warrior's." She side stepped out of our row and walked back down the bleachers to her usual seat. The parent next to her—I think Matt's mom, looked up at me.

  "What did Jason's mom want?" Cathy took a sip of hot chocolate.

  "She thinks this is my fault too—everyone thinks this is my fault."

  "Easy," Cathy said, "he's just a human, flaws are part of the package."

  I stood up on the seat and leaned back against the top railing. I'd had enough conversation.

  The third quarter didn't go well, the offense just wasn't clicking. Fortunately, the defense had stepped up and the quarter ended without either team scoring. Halfway into the fourth quarter, the other team kicked a field goal to go up 24-21. We followed with a three and out, giving the other team excellent field position. They took advantage and drove down the field. Their drive came down to a fourth and goal and like Coach had said, 'we had a target on our backs' and they went for it and scored—the point after was good. They kicked off leading 31-21. We needed two scores in less than four minutes—nearly impossible.

  Alex made a nice return to midfield, but Jason and the offense only managed another three and out. Coach signaled a timeout and called the team together. His pep talk was upbeat, but I could tell he was getting them ready for what seemed like the inevitable.

  Maybe it was a good thing—Jason could relax—undefeated was so unrealistic. Who was I kidding, he would be devastated and then have to deal with the kids at school on top of everything else that was going on. I leaned over the railing, looking into the trash can below and there it was—could it be that simple? I looked up at the concession stand. They were cleaning up.

  I glanced around, everyone in the stands was fixated on the huddle with Coach. I leapt over the back railing, unnoticed, and landed on the walk below with a muted thump.

  "Excuse me, do you have any more apples?" I asked Cathy's mom at the concession stand.

  "I'm not sure, not one of our better sellers."

  "Could you look, please, it's important."

  "Sure, hon." She walked off toward the back of the concession stand. "Here we go." She brought a shinny red apple up from one of the boxes on the floor.

  "Perfect. How much?"

  "Can you catch?"

  "Sure."

  She tossed it to me. "It's on the house."

  "Thanks." I ran back around behind the bleachers and jumped back up to my seat.

  "What the?" Cathy exclaimed.

  "Sorry, I needed an apple."

  "We're about to lose our first game and you want an apple?"

  "Stand up."

  "Okay." Cathy stood and I eased down next to her as the team jogged back out onto the field. "What are you doing?"

  "Is anyone looking?"

  "Not at us."

  As the team lined up in their positions, I launched the apple in a perfect arc. It landed at Jason's feet.

  The referee ran in blowing his whistle as Jason bent down and picked it up. He stared at it for a moment. He lifted his helmet and took a bite of the apple before the referee got to him. The referee snatched it out of his hands and trotted over to Coach.

  Coach shrugged, but glanced up at me. I think he knew this wasn't a coincidence.

  The game announcer came on over the loud speaker. "Please refrain from throwing anything on the field. Throwing anything on the field is grounds for removal from the stadium and being banned from future athletic events. Please demonstrate good sportsmanship."

  "You mind telling me what that was all about?" Cathy said.

  "Lunch. Let's just hope it works."

  "I have no idea what you're talking about."

  The referee blew the whistle and Jason stepped in under center. He faded back like it was going to be a pass, faked a handoff to Matt and raced toward the sidelines. The defense bit on the fake to Matt and Jason made it into the end zone untouched. The remaining fans went wild and those that had begun filing out, paused to watch. Some of them even filtered back into the lower sections of the bleachers. We lined up quickly for the extra point, but just like the game before, the opposing coach called a time out—he knew what was coming. If we made the two point conversion we would only need a field goal to win.

  The referee blew the whistle concluding the timeout and the teams lined up. We snapped the ball quickly, but the defense surged into our backfield and disrupted the play. The two point attempt was unsuccessful. The score stood at 27-31 in favor of the opposing team with under ten seconds to go.

  Cathy looked at me. "I think you were too late."

  We lined up for the kickoff which had to be an onside kick if we were going to have a chance. The opposing team had all their best ball handlers on the field. We lined up on the far side of the kicker except for one, Alex.

  The opposing coach started running toward the referee on the sideline to call a time out, but they'd used their last one. The teams raced toward each other as the kicker approached the ball, but at the last second, he swung his leg in an arc and kicked the ball deep to the nearside—over the heads of the opposing team's front line, but short of the deep receivers. Alex made a diving grab on the ball's second bounce. There was a collective gasp—I don't think anyone knew exactly what just happened. The referee's converged on Alex, waving their hands over their heads. The clock showed 00:00. Was it over?

  Alex emerged from under two tacklers with the ball, but the referee's didn't signal anything. Both coaches were halfway out on the field shouting toward the officials. The sideline referee's motioned the Coaches back toward their benches. Finally, the head referee stepped forward. He stood facing the goal and made a motion with his hand, "Warrior ball, first and ten. He then turned and addressed the booth. "Please put five seconds back on the clock—five seconds."

  During all the may lay, Coach had already called a play—or maybe even before the onside kick. As soon as the referee placed the ball, we lined up. It looked like it was going to be a running play, but partway through Jason's cadence, the receivers moved to a spread formation.

  Suddenly the referee blew the whistle and threw his flag toward he line. He rolled his arms in front of him. "False start—offense—five yard penalty, remains first down."

  We huddled. I couldn't help but listen—which was easy because you could have heard a pin drop in the stadium.

  "What are they saying?" Cathy said, apparently noticing my intense attention toward the field.

  "They're just making it look good, they're going to run the same play, whatever it was."

  Finally they broke the huddle and lined up. The referee behind the defense started pulsing his arm forward like a countdown. They were close to running out of time and another penalty, but as soon as they reached their positions, the center snapped the ball.

  Alex ran back behind our line as Jason handed the ball to Matt. Jason peeled off in the opposite direction away from the play. Matt stopped before he reached the line of scrimmage and tossed the ball back to Alex. Alex immediately threw the ball toward the opposite side of the field. Jason easily ra
n under the ball and walked into the end zone. The remaining crowd went crazy as the score went up on the board. 33-31, Warrior's!

  "And that's the game, folks." the announcer said.