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Tears filled my eyes as I easily admitted, “I used to write his name in my notebook. Well, my first name with St. James on the end of it.” I sighed. “Charlotte St. James.”
Memories of how I’d felt back then had me admitting something: “I wrote him a note once.”
“When?”
“After your party. Everyone left, and we watched a scary movie.” Sally’s shiver told me she remembered it. We had thought it would be a great idea to watchThe Exorcist—since we weren’tkidsanymore. When it was time for bed, we couldn’t sleep—well, I couldn’t. Sally had finally dozed off. “Earlier that day, I had heard him tell your parents that he had a big game coming up and that he was finally starting, but he was nervous.”
“I remember that game. After that he no longer rode the bench. He played phenomenally, broke the university’s single-game record for receiving yards.”
A huge smile spread at the memory. The St. Jameses had celebrated, and in some bizarre way, I had thought maybe my note had a hand in it. In so many of my dreams, I had imagined him realizing it was my handwriting, and then thank me with a hug. Except that never happened, nor had I really wanted it to. The reality was, he was an amazing player, and whether I wrote him a note with words of encouragement or not, he still would have been great.
“Yes, well, since I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing Linda Blair puke, I got up to get a book out of my bag and saw the paper I used for my grandma’s letters. Rather than write to her, I penned something corny to Collin and stuck it back in my backpack. The following morning, I saw his duffel bag, and I don’t know what came over me, but I shoved the note inside. To this day, I don’t know if he found it or not.”
“Hmm… and then he played phenomenally? Charlie, that could be because of your note. What did it say?”
A rush of heat enveloped me. “All it said was, ‘Believe in yourself as much as others do, and greatness will be imminent.’” She brought her hand to the center of her chest. “I also said something to the tune of, ‘You’ve got this, Collin. I’m rooting for you.”
Her eyes filled, which was very un-Sally-like. “Did you sign it?”
“No, not really. Ugh. It’s so embarrassing. I just drew a heart and put the letterCbeneath it.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Why are you crying?”
“You’re the best, Charlie. Man, even back then you were one of the most caring and smart people I knew.” She threw her arms around me. “He had an amazing game and really got his name out there. I bet your message had something to do with it.”
“I doubt that. And, as I said, I don’t know if he read it or not. I was so embarrassed after I stuck it in his bag that I almost asked you to take it out, but when we talked, he had already left for school.”
“Meant to be—that is what you two are. And you know what else is?”
“Hmm?”
She released her hold and sighed. “Me having to leave. I need to work tomorrow, but I promise to be back for the championship game.”
“You’re funny.”
She smirked. “You’ve got this, Charlie. I know you do.”
A lump formed in my throat. Already missing my best friend, I threw my arms around her this time and squeezed. “I love you, Sal.”
“I love you too.”
###
Raucous cheers filled the stadium as Lucas intercepted Boston’s pass and ran toward the end zone. Their offensive players scrambled to catch him while we all cheered him on. The entire place erupted as one of their players took Lucas down at the forty-three-yard line. It hadn’t mattered how often I’d seen a player get tackled; it still made me cringe.
The defense ran off the field to gather on the sideline. Lucas was greeted with smacks to his helmet and shoulder pads. High fives and compliments were exchanged. Meanwhile, my heart thrummed in my chest, because I knew with less than twenty seconds on the clock, the offense had a play or two left before time ran out.
To add to the daunting tasks of the day, rain had started coming down at the end of the third quarter and hadn’t let up. If anything, it had gotten worse. I’d yet to kick in adverse weather, which didn’t bode well for my nerves. To top it off, this game would secure a playoff spot for us.
Before the ball was hiked, Anton lifted his foot in the air like a horse in a stall. I silently prayed as I watched Anton throw the ball to Collin. Everyone, including me, jumped up and down as he raced toward the sideline to stop the clock. When I glanced up, I saw there were only three seconds left.
“Okay, Nicholson, this is a chip shot for you.” Coach Tisdale’s words of encouragement didn’t quell my nerves one iota. “You’ve got this.”
Nodding, I swallowed the formidable lump in my throat. DiNardo smacked my shoulder pad. “You ready, rook?”
After giving him a tight grin, the kicking unit took to the field. Despite the vibration in the stadium, I could barely hear the fans. Maybe I’d mastered tuning them out, or maybe my auditory sense had been compromised. Either way, my sole focus was twenty-nine yards away on the yellow uprights I had failed to reach at the end of the first half, on DiNardo kneeling in front of me, and on the ref’s whistle.
“You’ve got this, Charlie,” I whispered to myself.
Water trickled off my helmet as I lowered my head to focus on my spot. Once I heard the go-ahead signal from the ref, I approached the ball, and just as my foot made contact, a whistle blew. I watched it sail through the uprights, barely missing the left one.
