Page 137 of Forever Relentless

Yellow was not it.

One of the assistant coaches was at the front of the tunnel.

“Spence, Matthews, Moore, and Slater, you guys are going last. The crowd’s there, we’re going big.”

He barked out one of the defense’s numbers, and then our teammates were running out while we were loitering.

“Why are we last?” Dante asked him. “We always go first.”

“Trying new things.” He saw the four skeptical stares. “Look, you’ve seen the media. We’re distracting them with our biggest and our best.”

“We’re sitting on the sidelines for the first quarter,” Dustin reminded him.

“Think of it as practice for the Pro Bowl.” He gave us an unconvincing smile and then barked out Moore’s number. “Go.”

I went next, and the cheers as I ran out were nice. I couldn’t deny it. I raised my hands as I ran and heard my fellow students clapping for me. Dustin was next, and then the sound was deafening as Dante came onto the field.

Dustin and I exchanged a look. That’s why Dante didn’t need to worry. He was the golden boy. The star of the Lions, and for the first time, we realized he really was untouchable.

He joined us, his face in game-day mode. Locked and loaded. He wasn’t our roommate out here; he was QB10, and he didn’t fuck around.

He took his perch on the bench, I went to the defense bench, and Slater hovered around the sideline. Not too close to Coach, but close enough that he was in danger of being given a headset if he kept it up.

I got up and joined him when one of the defenders flattened Moore.

“You gave them the play?” I said appreciatively.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t supposed to play that way,” he said with a shake of his head.

“What’s the name of the redshirt O-line again?”

“Carr, I think,” he muttered. “He’s sat on the bench for two years. One here, one at his old school.”

“He’s good.”

Dante was beside us. “He’s a penalty trap,” he muttered. “Look at his feet. Too eager to go.”

We watched the backup QB call out a play, and then the redshirt jumped the snap.

Dante sniffed and looked away. “And there’s the penalty.”

The spring game was an internal game. Our offense against our defense. We tried new plays, new players, and all of it meant the coaches had more stats, more information, and more ammunition for the next season.

Kelly Willis was my replacement in the middle linebacker position. He was taller than me. Broader than me. And slower than me. Size was irrelevant without the first step.

“He needs to play DE.” Dante had followed my line of sight.

Evidently, Coach Holt agreed with him. “Matthews, why are you standing there fishwifeing? Get your helmet on, get out there.”

“Yes, Coach.”

I took my place on the defense, saw the redshirt’s movement, and yelled, “Hold!” to my line. We didn’t jump the snap. He did. Another penalty.

I saw Dante speaking to Coach Merriman, hands gesturing in a very non-Spence-like way.

Two calls, one more penalty later, we had QB10 on the field. The stands were going insane. I don’t know how the fuck he was supposed to hear the play call. From the look on his face, he couldn’t.

Dustin was on, sitting wide on the right side.