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“What’s your question, Terry?” I asked.

“It’s not quite a question but just a thought,” Terry said.

“Okay. And what’s your thought?”

“Maybe we could change the whole playbook,” he replied. I stared at him, my brows furrowing together. That wasn’t what I expected to hear, especially not from Terry.

“Absolutely not,” Hale snapped before I could say a word. “We’ve started the season. This isn’t the time to change everything. Right now, all of you need to focus on executing the plays we have the right way.”

“Hold on,” I interjected. I set down my notepad and crossed my arms. “Why would you suggest changing our playbook?”

“It just seems we’re struggling, that’s all,” Terry muttered.

“No, that’s not it,” Jude said. “Drew has this theory—”

“Conspiracy theory,” Ray added. Great. Conspiracy theories were just what I needed when it came to football.

“Definitely a fucking conspiracy theory,” Jude agreed. “Anyway, Drew thinks that Coach Mason sold us out after that whole thing to fuck over the school.”

“Drew.” I frowned. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Well, Theo had all these economic facts at the start of the season,” Drew explained. “And it was all about how the town depends on the team’s season, and all that.”

“I know,” I said. I’d given him those facts.

“Well, I was just thinking, you know, since he was so mad about all the bullshit, the best revenge would be to cripple the team by sharing our playbook. If we’re not winning, people aren’t coming. And if people aren’t coming, then the town isn’t getting money. It’s like evil genius level kind of shit if you think about it.”

I nodded slowly, lips pressed together as I considered it—actually considered what he was saying. That definitely sounded like a conspiracy theory, and one I struggled to believe. Still, I could easily see how the team had latched onto the idea as a possible explanation for our rough start to the season. I understood the need to believe in something bigger, even if it was some wildly inaccurate conspiracy theory.

“You know it’s not likely the case, right?” I replied finally, and Drew just shrugged.

“We want to win the championship this year,” Jude told me. “We haven’t done it yet.”

“And a new playbook might be the way to do it,” Forrest said.

“It’s a risky move to change our whole playbook on the fly. I know it worked for the one play, but we were lucky to pull that out of our asses,” I stated. “And even if we do change the playbook, there’s no guarantee that it’ll get us to the championship.”

“But what if it—”

“Why do you want it?” Hale asked. “That’s the question you need to be able to answer before we can even begin to entertain a request like this. If you don’t have a good reason for wanting a championship, there’s no point in going forward.”

“No, they don’t,” I cut in before anyone else could. The glare Hale shot my way would’ve intimidated many, except I’d accepted he’d never like me. Our styles were too different. “Why don’t you take a break, Hale? I’d like to talk to them.”

He drew in a deep breath and stood a little taller, bracing himself. I could see him debating whether to fight me in front of everyone. I just waited because no matter what he thought of me, my position still superseded his. I held his gaze expectantly for a long, borderline uncomfortable minute before the man deflated. Hale stormed out of the room with a string of swears under his breath. Eventually, he and I had to figure this thing out.

“He does not like me,” I commented. A rumble of laughter moved through the team. “He’s going to quit on me. Just you watch.”

“Can we start taking bets?” Sam asked.

“A secret team betting pool on Hale’s inevitable departure would probably get me in trouble,” I said, but the idea was entertaining. Leaning back against the desk, I crossed my arms. “But he does make a point… why do you want the championship?”

“But I thought you said—”

“I know,” I interrupted. “But just humor me. I’m trying to make a point. Why do you want it?”

“Because it’ll look good.”

“Because I want to before I graduate.”