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JACKSON
SIX MONTHS AFTER MEETING…
“All right, y’all listen up,” our coach yells loud enough to get our attention. The entire team huddles around him in the middle of the football field, sweaty and tired. “Tomorrow is the homecoming game against South Ridge. We have gone undefeated against them for the past five years. I expect this year to be no different. We’re all going to give a hundred and fifty percent, ya hear? Losing is not an option.”
“Yes, sir!” the entire team shouts in unison.
“I expect you all to stay home and get some rest tonight. We’ll see you here bright and early tomorrow morning for drills.”
“Yes, sir.”
The team grunts one final bulldog cheer before heading toward the locker room.
“Jackson, fall back, son!” Coach Williams calls out to me.
“What’s up, coach?”
“I just want to give you a heads up. The scouts are coming to see you this weekend. I know you got little field time when Jameson was quarterback, but this is your moment to shine. You’ve got real talent, son. With a little work, you can be even better than your brother is.” He slaps me hard on my shoulder pad and gives me a nod. “I know you’ll make us proud.”
“Yes, coach.”
It wasn’t unusual for college scouts to come and watch us play. Hell, they started scouting Jameson during his sophomore year, but not once has anyone come specifically for me. There are a couple of colleges I’ve had my eye on, and I’m hoping one of them will be here. A full scholarship like Jameson got is my end goal. It’s what I’ve been working toward for years. I’m feeling the pressure a bit more than I was a minute ago, but all I can do is focus, play my best, and, like coach says, make everyone proud.
After hitting the showers and changing into my faded jeans and T-shirt, I hop in my old beater truck and head for home. When I pull up to my house, through the window, I can see Rory and my mom sitting at the kitchen table. Before going out tonight, Rory needs to grab a few things for the homecoming dance. When I walk into the house, I can hear her and my mom laughing.
“Hey, baby,” mom says while wiping her eyes. “How was practice?” She stands and opens the fridge door behind her. Reaching in, she grabs a couple of Gatorades and hands them to me.
“Good. Great, actually. Coach says the scouts are coming to watch me tomorrow.”
“Yes, lord. I’ve been praying every night, baby,” my mom gushes. I know the stress of trying to figure out how to pay for college tuition is one of her biggest worries. “That’s such great news.”
“What’s great news?” my father asks as he walks through the back porch door, just getting home from work. He places his lunch pail on the yellow tile countertop and hangs his jacket up on the hook.
“Coach Williams told Jackson that the college scouts will be there tomorrow.”
“Which ones?”
My dad looks at me, and I shake my head. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
“I doubt any of the division one teams will scout this late in the season. Jameson already had his offer from LSU long before this time last year.”
“Divisions one or two, none of that matters.” My mom swats the air with her hand while glaring at my dad.
“It does matter, Leann. Only the division one schools have a real chance of going pro. What’s the point of even going to college and playing football if that’s not his goal?”
“I always thought people went to college to better themselves and their education,” Rory chimes in. My dad gives her an exasperated look, causing her to shrug. “I guess I was wrong.” She smiles at him, which somehow eases the tension in the room.
“Jackson, I’m very proud of you. We both are—aren’t we Mitch?”
“Yes, of course. I was just thinking out loud, is all.” My dad runs his grease-stained hands through his thinning hair. “I’m gonna go wash the day off me.” He turns, stalling to look back at me. “Way to go.”
I don’t respond with words, only a single nod. Throughout our childhood, my father has put Jameson and me against each other. No matter what we were doing or which sport we played, the two of us were in a constant competition. Somehow, Jameson always came out ahead.
“Thank you for the cookies, Mrs. Nash,” Rory says, breaking up the awkwardness as she gets up and places her dish in the sink.
“Any time, sweetheart.” My mom lovingly rubs Rory’s back, and even my dad gives her a small smile before finally leaving the room. “Where y’all headed off to?”
“The mall. My grandma insisted I have my shoes dyed to match my dress. So, I have to go pick them up.”
