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“You got it, Coach,” Aaron states firmly.
I laugh at the way he calls him Coach. I think that’s the first time I’ve heard him say it since my dad actually became his coach. When we were little, my dad told him to start calling him that in hopes that he actually would be one day.
I guess that time is now.
Tomorrow is the first practice of the summer for next year’s team. It’s going to be hot, and I don’t think these new guys have any clue what they’re in for. I like to guess how many players he’ll make throw up on the first day. I swear he takes pride in doing so.
Dad stands up from leaning on the counter and slaps Beau on the back. “Have fun tonight.”
“I will. Thank you,” Beau responds.
As Dad walks out, I lean my arms down on the counter and turn to Beau, who stands on the other side. “So, California, huh?”
His lips tilt up on one side. “Born and raised.”
Aaron pops a chip in his mouth from the bowl in front of us. “But now, you’re here. I’m sure it’s not the same, so I wouldn’t pimp that Cali shit around. People here won’t go for that.”
Beau shrugs like he’s not bothered one bit by Aaron’s comment. “Different place, same drama, I’m sure. It’s just way more humid here than back home.”
The front door opens, and we watch as a few of the players enter.
“Just wait until you put those pads on tomorrow. Then, you’ll really feel what it’s like to live in humidity. You’ll realize real quick that you’re not in California anymore.” Aaron pats Beau on the back and heads toward the guys who just arrived. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”
Beau looks back, giving me a grin before going to meet his new teammates.
CHAPTERTHREE
First Day of Freshman Year
After giving myself one more once-over in the mirror, I reach for my firefly necklace and give it a squeeze. Then, I grab my bag before heading out the front door for my first day at Mac High. I’m not a cheerleader, so I don’t have to wear a skirt to school, but the drill team does have us wearing matching shorts and tees so everyone knows who we are. Some girls complained that they couldn’t wear what they wanted the first day, but not me. I’ve never been so proud to wear a simple T-shirt to signify who I am at this school.
I knew growing up that I’d have to pick one way or another to be involved in the Friday night lights community. Dad’s dream was to create an event where every person could be included, whether you were an actual football player, cheerleader, band member, or even background logistics. He wanted everyone to feel welcome if they wanted to be a part of the spectacle.
For me, being on the drill team was a no-brainer. The crowd is loud during every second of the nightly events until the drill team comes on. You could hear a pin drop in the crowd while everyone stares in awe as the twenty-member team puts on their show. They’ve won national competitions and even performed during NFL games.
It’s such a weird feeling, finally going to school where I was basically raised. I feel like my entire life was spent at this school, but until now, I’ve never been able to call itmyschool.
I ride with my dad, who parks at the back in his reserved spot.
Before we exit the car, he places his hand on my arm. “Have fun today, but watch out for those older boys.”
A laugh escapes my lips as I tilt my head at him. “Seriously, Daddy? I think you’ve already put the fear of death in most of them anyway. I’m pretty sure you have nothing to worry about,” I say with a huff, then exit the car.
I hear my dad’s proud chuckle behind me, but I try to ignore it. Yes, I’m walking onto campus my freshman year as a girl who’s never been kissed, and I swear it’s one thousand percent caused by the fact of who my dad is.
I know this year won’t be different—worse actually since he’s physically on campus with me as the male PE teacher—but I don’t want that to ruin my day.
Yes, I’ve never had a boyfriend, but being the head coach’s daughter does have its perks. The fact that I know basically everyone and they all know me being the biggest one.
Most of the guys from the incoming freshmen to the seniors about to graduate have been at my house hundreds of times. When I think about the fact that I was in sixth grade with braces when I first met the now seniors, I realize that doesn’t really help my cause, but hopefully, all they see now is how much I’ve changed.
“There’s my girl!” Megan yells, holding out her arms, showing me how we match.
Making the drill team was a huge accomplishment to me. Knowing that my best friends, Megan and Heather, did too made the day even better.
“Freshman year, baby! You ready to rock this school for the next four years?” she says as she hip-bumps me.
“It’s kind of crazy we’re finally here. What is your first period class again?”
