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Bam looked surprised. "New girlfriend? You over Brandi already?"
I shrugged with one shoulder and headed toward the showers. "A guy has to move on, sooner or later."
"True, but that's pretty soon," Bam said to my back.
"I'm taking lessons from you," I said over my shoulder. "Wham, Bam, thank you ma'am."
"That's not where the nickname comes from," he said before I closed the shower door and dumped my towel on the shelf beside it.
I turned the water on nice and hot and stripped off my sweats and t-shirt. While I luxuriated under the hot flow, I wondered how many other guys had stood right here over the years.
Hundreds, most likely. Each with the same thoughts in their head—the game. Whether they were about to play, or already had, it would be uppermost in their minds. I'd already pushed everything else to the corners to focus on what mattered.
Coach Quinn, and Coach Frank before him, always said that was the difference between high school football and playing in the pros. You had to want it more than anything. It had to be the most important thing in the world. Family, friends, daily life, that all comes later, after the game.
In the meantime, there was just here and now.
The water went cold.
I shouted out in surprise and leapt out. My foot slipped on the floor. I threw out my hand and slammed it against the wall to keep from falling. I barely managed to stay on my feet.
Someone laughed.
"Asshole," I called out, but my cool and calm was gone.
I muttered under my breath, turned off the water and dried myself. The cold had woken me up all right, but it would take time to get my headspace back.
Maybe Coach Quinn was right. Save the pranks for home, or out with the guys.
I wrapped the towel around my waist and headed out of the shower.
I glanced around, eyes narrowed, but no one looked my way. If anyone was waiting to see my reaction, I couldn't tell. Maybe there was just a problem with the water. The stadium was a big place. Things like that could go wrong.
I stepped back to my locker and started to dress. I had a routine for this. Underpants, pants, socks, padding, wraps, then my number eight jersey. My boots went on last.
I wasn't usually superstitious, but in this I very much was. Once in a while, I wondered if we'd play even better if I dressed in a different order, but I wasn't going to try it, just in case it backfired.
I didn't want to be the reason we lost, either through a prank or through a routine.
Coach Quinn stepped into the locker room. He glanced my way, but soon turned his back and moved on. For some reason, I had the impression he didn't like Hawk, Bam and I. Maybe because we were all younger and better looking than he was. And maybe because he didn't really like anyone. Either way, we'd stopped trying to be friendly. We stuck to professionalism after that; doing what he said and being polite, but nothing more.
At least he didn't bust my ass over the ball prank.
Yet.
"Warm up," Coach shouted. He nodded to Walker Lincoln, Ben 'Stringer ' Davis, Damon 'Fridge ' Wozniak and Henry 'Pinky' Innocenti. Those four were as thick as me, Hawk and Bam. Coach seemed to like them better than us, as much as he liked anyone. Who said high school ended when we grew up? Cliques happened everywhere, even here. Whatever, as long as they did their jobs.
"Time to cream us some Emus," Hawk said.
His words, together with the determined look on his face, was all the pep talk I needed.
I nodded once and followed him out onto the field.
The stadium was mostly full already. Cheers followed us as we trotted around, testing out the feel of the field and absorbing the atmosphere. It was electric as always. If the fans in the seats thought being here made their blood pump, it was nothing to being on the field itself.
Everything I did in my life led to this. Everything else stepped aside, forgotten until the game was over. At the end of the day, I left all of myself on the turf.
"So about this girlfriend." Bam caught up to me and we trotted side by side.
