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“I- I’m sorry, I don’t understand?” The mention of the football team had me a little tongue-tied.
“Every year, Coach Hasson likes to present his seniors with a memento. Usually it’s a photograph to mark their time with the Raiders. But this year, we thought it might be nice to include a painting.”
“You want me to… paint the team.” I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.
“Well, yes, unless there’s a problem?”
“No, no, Sir, I just…” I wiped my clammy hands down my apron, a hundred reasons why this was a bad idea flooding my mind. But despite my inner voice screaming at me not to do it, all I could think was Mr. Jalin, Rixon’s Director of Arts; and Coach Hasson had asked me to do this.
Me.
“Seniors Night is a little over two months away,” he went on while I was still trying to process what this meant should I agree. “It’ll mean a lot of hours and you’ll need to spend some time with the senior players, get out and watch them practice, but I think you can pull it off.”
“Is there a particular style Coach Hasson has in mind?” My thoughts began shooting over in a million directions. Would he want something more traditional like a realism portrait or maybe something more fluid like an impressionist portrait? “Or do I have free rein?”
“It’s all down to you, within reason of course.” His expression turned serious. “This is not something to take lightly, Hailee. This project could really help you make a name for yourself locally.”
He didn’t need to tell me. For a small-town girl living in Rixon, it was the equivalent of being asked to do an exhibition at the Penn Museum or the Philly Museum of Art.
“I’ll do it,” I said with conviction. I’d just have to worry about the finer details later when I figured out the direction, I wanted to take it. “Thank you, Sir, for thinking of me.”
“Just remember, we need this to be a success, Hailee. I’ve been battling the school board for years to funnel more money into our Arts Department. This could be the start of a mutually beneficial relationship between us and the Athletics Department.”
“I understand.” No pressure then.
“Coach Hasson would like to brief you further, so if you could arrange to meet with him as soon as possible.” Mr. Jalin gave me a small nod before leaving me alone. It was almost as if the stars were aligning. Mom and Kent were insisting I attend the dinner at Coach Hasson’s house tomorrow night and now I had a valid reason to be there.
But as I stared at my painting, getting lost in the swirls of blue and gray, nervous energy vibrated through me. Being around Coach Hasson meant being around the team. And being around the team meant being around Cameron; something I wanted to avoid at all costs. But this was too good an opportunity to refuse, and it would look great on my resume if I got accepted into Stamps. I’d entered the odd local show, and had some pieces displayed around the school before, but this could be a huge break for me.
There was just one fatal flaw with the plan—getting Jason to play nice long enough for me to complete the project.
Cameron
The roar of the crowd was deafening. It had been for the entire game, which turned out to be brutal, just as everyone expected. The Eagles scored a touchdown, we scored one back; they sacked our QB, we took Thatcher down twice as hard. We were exhausted; mentally and physically broken, and despite outplaying them, the Eagles were leading by five. But we were fourth and goal, with eleven seconds left on the clock, which meant we had time for one final play.
And we needed it to count.
“Time,” Coach yelled across the field and we moved in for his instructions. “Okay,” he said. “They’ve got us pinned down, I know that. You know that. But this game should have been ours coming into the second half. Jase, what are you thinking, Son?”
We all looked to our QB and captain, hardly surprised Coach was letting him take control. He trusted Jase explicitly. We all did.
“We should run the Red 59 Counter Arrow,” he said calmly, despite the fire in his eyes. He didn’t just want this win, he needed it.
“Fourteen?” Coach locked eyes with me. “You ready for this?”
“I’ve got it.” I nodded.
“That’s what I wanted to hear. Now get out there and take care of business. Raiders on one.”
Our battle cry rippled across the field, fueling us. Giving us the strength we needed for one final play.
“You ready?” Jase jogged over to me.
“Let’s end them.” Understanding passed between us as he offered me a rare smile.
“Go get ‘em, bro.”
We all moved into position behind the line of scrimmage, waiting for Jase’s call. He reeled off the play before signaling, “Hut.” Grady, our center, snapped the ball to him and he faked left. I took off, pushing past the safety. My best friend dropped back, hiked up his arm and let the ball fly, straight toward the end zone and my destination. I pumped my legs hard, running faster than I’d ever run in my life. We had to win, I had to get my hands on that ball.
