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“You sound excited. What’s going on?”
“I got to assist with a dolphin rescue today,” she gushed. “It was amazing.”
“That’s awesome.”
“I learned so much about how to carry out a rescue and then how to transport them safely back to the rescue center. And, oh, she’s going to be okay. She’s such a fighter.”
“Just like you,” I assured her, loving her excitement over her internship. She was totally in her element.
She laughed. “Only with you.”
“I’m really happy for you, Grace,” I said. “You’re getting everything you wanted.”
“What’s going on withyou?” she asked.
“I’ve got good news too.”
“Tell me.”
“Tomorrow’s the day.”
She went silent. I waited her out, but she didn’t speak.
I stopped walking and sat on a bench. “Grace?”
“I’m here.”
“Stop worrying,” I said.
“I’ll stop worrying when they find something,” she said. “Where will Martine be?”
“He and my mother are going to a fundraiser,” I said.
“There’s no chance they’ll skip it?” she asked.
“I guess there’s always a chance, but for now, the plan is set for after my game.”
“Sawyer and Saint know what they need to do?” she asked.
“Don’t worry. They’re all set. And, they’re gonna find something to nail the fucker to the wall.” I didn’t dare tell her I wasn’t sure at all that they’d find something. But, the more I said it, the more I hoped it became a reality. Because if I wasn’t confident in their success, they wouldn’t be confident. “Trust me.”
“I do.”
A knot twisted in my gut. There was a hell of a lot riding on this plan. With no plan B, this had to work. It just had to.
* * *
I’d been to a game in Alabama before when I was a kid. I’d been seated in the sea of red shirts. I’d been privy to the booming sound of a hundred thousand fans. But never before—not even in my wildest dreams—had I ever had every eye in the stadium focused on me. Kenyon had started. He’d been sacked three times in the first quarter, fumbling once. Coach pulled me off the sideline and put me in. I tried to tune out the deafening roar of the crowd and focus on the play. “Eight night space,” I yelled, barely able to hear my own voice.
My teammates clapped once and jogged to their positions. I bent, called hike, and grasped the ball. I backpedaled, looking to my far right for my receiver who cut left then right. I released the ball, holding my breath as I watched it sail through the air and land right in his arms. The defense brought him down at the thirty-yard line.
The crowd exploded.
I glanced to the sideline where Coach punched his fist in the air. Only then, did I exhale. And, only then, did I feel like a leader on the field.
I jogged to the thirty as I heard the play relayed to me in my helmet. I stepped into the huddle. “Seventeen burning house.”
My teammates clapped once and jogged to their spots on the line of scrimmage. Again, I bent, called hike, and grasped the ball between my hands. This time my offensive line held off the defense, giving me time to hand off a quick pass to the running back who made it ten yards before being brought down on the twenty.
