Page 62 of Mr. B

Wes went to the end of the bed. “You’ll need to cheer your mother on from the sidelines.”

“My mother?” She looked at Cassandra. “You’re going to play?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Bailey looked at Wes. “Do you have another pair of crutches? We might need them.”

Chapter fifteen

“That was a slobber-knocker.”

After dinner, everyone gathered on the big field behind the mess hall for the game. The field had been chalked off, and Lester held a coffee can filled with folded slips of paper. Before the draw, Wes and Cassandra were assigned blue and red, respectively.

Wes’ team gathered around him after drawing even numbers, chattering and playfully trash-talking the red team.

“Okay, guys, keep it friendly.” He passed out belts with blue flags to the seven players who would play first.

Cassandra had deferred leadership to Perry, the high school quarterback, and she hung back a bit while he inspired his team. When she looked at Wes, he gave her a wink and a nod.

The rest of the campers sat or stood along the sidelines, showing their support by waving red or blue flags and holding up cardboard signs. The cheerleaders at camp stood on the sidelines, waving blue and red pom-poms.

As the opposing teams lined up, Lester held the ball. “Quick reminder. No tackling, shoving, checking, or aggressive blocking. If anything other than a player's feet or hands touches the ground, the play is over. We play two twenty-minute halves. My word is final on all calls. No arguing. We don’t have the luxury of reviewing the tape. Any questions?” When no one raised a hand, he blew his whistle. “Okay, let’s play some football.”

Like the Taboo tournament, the game started out slowly as the teams learned to work together. But the action picked up quickly, and Wes was as invested as everyone else. He kept an eye on Cassandra as much as he could, and she seemed to be enjoying herself, though she was still hanging back.

When he decided to pull a surprise play and run the ball himself, he charged down the field, flanked by a couple of big guys from his team and chased by several members of the red team. When he saw Cassandra directly in his path, he veered left to avoid running into her. She changed direction at the same time, with the same intent, but went to her right.

He tried to stop, but a collision seemed inevitable. He crashed into her, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He landed on top of Cassandra with a grunt, catching a whiff of her shampoo as her head hit the ground in slow motion. The world around them faded away, and they were the only two people on the grassy field. She looked at him, and he smiled, then rolled off of her and lay on his back, trying to catch his breath. The world returned along with the sound of fifty concerned people. Lester forced his way through them and barked for everyone to back the hell off.

Wes turned his head and looked at Cassandra. “Are you okay?”

Cassandra was on her back as well, and she lifted her arm and gave him a thumbs up.

Lester knelt between them and looked at Cassandra.

“Damn, that was a slobber-knocker. Are you okay?”

Cassandra looked at him. “It was a what?”

Lester smiled, then turned to Wes. “How about you?”

“Um…I’ll tell you in a minute.”

Lester stood and held a hand out to Cassandra. “Let’s get you up.”

She took his hand and stood, then smiled down at Wes. “Um…I believe the rules state no tackling.”

He scowled. “I was the one with the ball. If anyone tackled anyone, it was you.” He rose onto an elbow. “But I believe it was a matter of both zigging when one of us should’ve zagged.”

Lester pulled Wes to his feet. “You sure you’re okay there, boss?”

Wes brushed some dirt off his hands. “I’m fine.” He looked at the ball lying on the ground next to him. “Is the ball still in play?” Lester smiled, and both Wes and Cassandra lunged for the ball. She got to it first, hesitated a moment as she tried to decide what to do with it, then took off when her team all yelled for her to run. Wes ran after her and came up behind her. When she glanced over her shoulder and smiled, he slowed a step, then made an ineffectual grab for one of her red flags as she crossed the goal line.

She spiked the ball and danced for a moment. “Take that, blue team.”

Wes laughed. “I almost got you.”

“Almost doesn’t count.” She cocked her head. “With all that running you do, one would think you’d be able to run down a deskbound therapist.”