Worry inches over me. “Do I need to send someone to check on her?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? I can send one of the assistants or Lois—”
“No!” he calls, then takes a deep breath, his chest rising. “She’s fine. It’s the usual. It’s nothing.”
Once he’s outfitted and sitting with the other players, I clear my throat and stand in the center of the room. My hands tap my leg. “All right. I know you have questions about what happened today after the pep rally.”
Bruno sits with his legs spread, his eyes not meeting mine. Milo slumps over, cupping his face. Toby stands, his jaw tight. Skeeter glares down at his clipboard. Lois wipes at her face with a tissue.
A long exhale comes from me at their silence. “As you know . . . from earlier . . . I’m on the short list for Stanford, but that isn’t going to happen, and I’m being considered for the Pythons. That’s no reflection on you. We’ve come far together and—”
“Are you going to leave?” comes from Bruno.
I take off my hat and rake a hand through my hair. “It’s a possibility.”
“You’ve had two offers!” Toby snaps out.
“Right now, you are my team, and I’m standing right here.” I sweep my gaze over them. “You’re the heart of this town, not me. We’ve won every single game in the toughest district in Texas. Together. This team is going to state, and there’s going to be a gold trophy in that case.” I point to the shelves behind me, already lined with previous championships.
They look at me with lackluster eyes.
I pinch my nose, anxiousness rising as everything from earlier crashes into me. The shock and hurt I saw on my team’s faces. How Nova walked away, her shoulders bent.
“It sucks, okay; it sucks! I can’t give you an answer!” I declare as I put my hands on my hips. “That bullshit today wasn’t meant to happen. You think I’m disloyal. You think I’m deserting you—go ahead; be angry!” I slam my fist into the palm of my other hand. “But remember the tape we’ve watched, the strategies we’ve worked on since summer camp. Think about each other. How close you’ve become. How the players on this team are family. We adjust. We pivot. We are Bobcats!”
A few heads lift and nod, murmuring under their breaths, “Yeah, yeah,” but several don’t. Bruno still looks sullen, and Toby won’t look at me, his eyes fixed somewhere above my head.
Skeeter pumps his fist in the air. “All right, Bobcats! Who’s with me? Huh? Huh? Win the heart, win everything!”
Their reply is half-hearted, and it cuts into my heart.
I heave out a breath and follow them out the door.
By the end of the third quarter, the score is twenty-eight to seventeen, and we’re losing. I pace the sideline and run a hand through my hair, my cap gone since I tossed it on the ground earlier. My offense jogs off the field, shoulders slumped. On our last play, Toby threw an interception, his second, letting the Rams score again.
He jogs over to Skeeter—not me—and I walk over to him.
“Look at me, Toby.”
He whips off his helmet and chews on his bottom lip so hard it looks painful.
“It’s my fault,” he grumbles as he rubs his face and stares at the ground. “They’re beating me on the routes . . .”
“They’ve been studying. They know your habits. Listen to me.”
It takes him a moment, but he finally looks at me.
“Okay, look, you’re angry with me, yes?”
He nods tightly.
I sigh. “The best quarterbacks learn to have amnesia. Pretend today never happened, okay? For the team’s sake.”
“Not sure I can. I don’t want you to leave.”
I hear the pain in his young voice, and my hand goes to his shoulder, like it has a hundred times. “That’s not the way I would have told you. You’re important to me, you hear?”
He starts the lip chewing again.
“You are. I see myself in you, Toby. You have a big future ahead of you, and tonight is just the beginning.”
He shrugs and looks away from me.
“Think about the day you saw those stuffed animals on our field. Remember your anger? Take that, and form it into determination. Huddersfield thinks they got one over on us. But we’re stronger, smarter, meaner. I already know you’re the most talented high school quarterback in Texas. Prove it to them.”
He nods, his gaze narrowing on the other team across the field. That’s it. Focus.