Because You Exist (13 page)

Chapter 19

You see pro football players get their butts kicked all the time. As a football fan, you might even love watching it happen. Once, I watched Ben Roethlisberger get his nose broken, let the blood drip onto the field, and continue playing as if nothing ever happened. This is the kind of thing football fans thrive on. Sure, it must hurt like hell, but this is a symbol of real dedication. In a sport where the players get paid millions and millions of dollars to play a game, you like to see your players really commit. Earn those big bucks.

There are no million-dollar salaries in high school football. The most you can hope for is hearing the crowd chant your name and a little on top of the clothes fun with your girlfriend between the post game meeting and after game party. So, when I got sacked for the sixth time, I can’t say I was loving football.

We were down by seven with only two minutes left. We had to win the next two games to make it to the playoffs. And this wasn’t like the football movies where the music swells, and the coach calls you over to give you some heartwarming speech about overcoming odds and perseverance. No. My coach was screaming at me to get my ass in gear.  The band was playing one of the three drumbeats they knew, and the crowd had already given up.

Josephine and I had shifted before sunrise. I was still in the tent when it happened. I hadn’t been able to go back to sleep after Randall’s insane questions about Josephine and me. He didn’t ask me any more after that, but I kept trying to come up with reasons why we were paired. When I came to, I didn’t seek her out. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to talk to her. I did. I wanted to get her thoughts on everything we found out, and I wanted to warn her about Bentham. I hoped she wasn’t falling for his bad boy turned hero act.

But when I came to, I felt the need for action. The more I listened to Josephine and Bentham talk, the more I felt completely useless in future world. This world, the world of skipping classes and football Fridays, was the world where I could thrive. I couldn’t wait for the game. I rushed out of the bathroom and found coach, convincing him to sign me a pass so I could skip class and warm up my arm.

I was ready for the game. Despite being sore from my tussle with the survivor and feeling exhausted from lack of sleep, I craved the surge of control I felt as I moved my body down the football field. Apparently, my team wasn’t so ready. Maybe it was because they were pissed at me, or maybe they just got too cocky, but we were losing.

As the play clock began to wind down, I got pissed. We weren’t losing this game because of me. I ‘d shown up. I’d come to win. The team hadn’t. There was no way the defenders should have been able to break through the line and tackle me. If the team was trying to teach me something, it had backfired on them. We were going to damn well lose this game.

I was tired of my life being in other people’s hands. So, I hung out with Josephine? So what? My life. Not only were they determined to decide who I hung out with, they were going to lose me my chance of going to State during my senior year.

They could go to hell.

I wasn’t going to lose.

I was going to have to win this on my own.

After the snap, I pulled the ball to my chest. I didn’t care how many defenders were in my way; I was going to push through them. With a yell, I sprung from my position with as much speed as I could muster. My muscles screamed in protest, but it wasn’t enough to stop me. I felt every hit. I felt it in my bones. But I kept pushing through the sea of hands and shoulders. While I finally broke free, I searched out the end zone. I blocked out the sound of the crowd. I didn’t want their damn approval either.

I wanted this for me.

When I broke the plane, I fell on my knees. I could feel it all. Every moment of the shift come back on me.

I could win.

I could win.

I didn’t hang around on the field to lavish in the sounds of triumph. When the whistle blew to signal the end of the game, I picked up my helmet and started to head to the locker room. I stopped by where the cheerleaders stood and searched out Jenna. She ran to me, a bright smile gracing her face.

“You were amazing,” she beamed.

I kissed her on the cheek. “Let’s just do something me and you tonight.”

“You don’t want to go to the party?”

I shook my head. The team didn’t deserve to celebrate my win. I wouldn’t be part of it.

As I moved closer to the locker room, I noticed someone standing awkwardly against the wall near the bathrooms.

It couldn’t be.

All the signs were there. Black hoodie. Barely able to see the face. Posture that showed she’d rather be anywhere but there.

Did Josephine come to my game?

I didn’t have time to check because the crowd was starting to sing the school song, and it was making me feel sick. Sure. Now, they were a team. Now, they supported me. As long as I was winning.  I jogged into the locker room and didn’t look back.

Jenna and I spent the night curled on her couch watching reruns of The Office. She was a sweetheart. She didn’t question me on not wanting to go to the party. I’m sure she would have liked to go, but she was there for me. She got me some ice to put on my shoulder, and subtly shooed her father away when she sensed I was getting tired of talking about the game. We made out for awhile when we were sure her parents were asleep. It was nice. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my evening, but I was distracted the whole time.

When I got home, I hastened to my room and pulled out my cell phone. I began to text Josephine.

Me: Am I losing it or did I see u at the game?

Josephine: I was there

Me: ?

Josephine: ?

Me: Suddenly become school spirited?

Josephine: What? Didn’t you see my pom-poms?

Me: If there were pom-poms I would have noticed. Sort of my thing. Go for girls with them.

Josephine: You were listening to Ben and me?

Me: Whatever. Why were you there?

Me: hello?

Me: ...

Josephine: Because it’s important to you.

Josephine: Maybe I’ve been too hard on you.

Josephine: We are shifting partners.

Me: And that means something.

Josephine: Supposedly.

Me: Just don’t go falling in love with me.

Josephine: I don’t have the blonde hair and perky boobs for that.

Me: Ha. Ha.

Josephine: Goodnight Peyton Manning.

Me: I consider myself more of a Tom Brady.

Josephine: Goodnight Tom.

Me: Goodnight Josephine.

***

“Here,” Jenna said, handing me a mocha frappuccino, “I still don’t understand how you can drink these in October, but I thought it might help you out this morning.”

“Thanks,” I replied, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. As soon as her car door was shut, I pulled out of her parents’ driveway. I didn’t want to be late.

After texting Josephine, I had a hard time getting to sleep. I knew Josephine was more than likely miserable for the entirety of the football game, but she still came. For me. She was taking our partnership seriously. I needed to do the same. Besides, I still remembered the promise I made—granted silently and to myself—about, helping Josephine out back in this world. I would start with the track meet.

After setting my alarm for the ungodly hour of eight am, I called Jenna to see if she wanted to go to the meet with me. I could hear the surprise in her voice when she answered, as if it was utterly unimaginable that I could be awake so early on a Saturday morning.

Crazier things have happened.

Trust me.

I also saw the track meet as an opportunity to meet these rumors about Josephine and me head on. If I could get Jenna and Josephine to be friends again, and the rest of the school to notice, then maybe the rumors would stop. Maybe I could go back to the way things were before.

I could salvage something.

“What made you suddenly so interested in track?” Jenna asked, searching for a station that wasn’t being bombarded with commercials.

“You ever think radio stations plan a time to go on commercial breaks together so you won’t switch to another channel? I swear they’re always on commercial at the same time,” I said.

“Is it because of Josephine?”

Right. These were the types of questions that I would have to answer. I could do this. No sweat. I cleared my throat. “She came to my game last night. I just thought it would be nice to go to her meet.”

“You two have gotten close?”

I glanced at Jenna. She wasn’t looking at me. Instead, her eyes were glued to the passing scenery. If I hadn’t know her forever, I might have thought she didn’t give a damn about the topic we were discussing, but her leg was bouncing up and down as if it would run off without her.

Crap.

“I guess. I think we’re trying to be friends. I don’t think she really has any friends, you know.”

“Right.”

I could hear everything she wasn’t saying. I could hear them because they would be the things I would say to myself. When did I care about anyone? Did I see Josephine as some sort of charity case? What was my real motive behind this? Because Logan Middleton certainly didn’t ever do anything just to be nice.

But Jenna wouldn’t say those things. She would hint at them. Maybe. Joke about them. Sure. But she would never outright say them.

Did she keep silent out of love?

Is that what love is?

I opted for honesty. At least one us of should be able to say the things that felt better to keep inside. I wanted to be honest with her. “I feel bad. I know part of the reason she gets treated so bad by the rest of them is because of me. I don’t want to be a dick.”

I could feel Jenna’s eyes on me then. She reached forward and placed her hand on mine, giving it a slight squeeze. After a comfortable silence, Jenna asked, “You like my outfit?”

She was wearing a Shepherd High short sleeve t-shirt with a long black t-shirt underneath. On top, she wore her letterman jacket she received from cheerleading. She didn’t need mine. Her hair was tied in two pigtails by shiny ribbons. Always the cheerleader.

I smiled. “Very school spirited. Not sure they’re used to so much pep on the track field.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t bring my pom-poms,” she replied.

“No. You’re lucky. I would have gotten extremely jealous. You know I don’t like you shaking those things for anyone but me.”

“Don’t know what you’re going to do next semester. You do realize I signed up to cheer for basketball this year?”

“Actually. I didn’t. Guess I’ll have to sign up for basketball this year too.”

Jenna laughed. “Right. You suck at basketball. They won’t even let you near the team.”

I tugged on her hand and brought it to my lips, kissing it quickly though my grin. “When I win State, they’ll let me on any team I want to be on.”

“You’re lucky you’re so darn cute. Otherwise, this cockiness might be a turnoff.”

“Hey. Jenna?”

“Hmm?” she asked, a smile still on her face.

“I love you.”

I did. It was the only love I could claim. Maybe it wasn’t perfect. Maybe Josephine didn’t approve. But I didn’t care. I would not feel ashamed of what Jenna and I had.

“I know you’re not cheating on me with her,” she replied quietly.

It wasn’t I love you, but it meant trust. I knew I had her love; knowing I had her trust was a pretty great thing to hear too.

Josephine was unreal. Completely and freakishly unreal. I saw how fast she ran from the survivors, but this was something different. I knew she felt it. The sense of control I felt on the field, the rush that comes from being in complete control of the way your limbs move. The only thing we could control, but damn were we good at it.

Even the way she pulled off her jacket screamed bad-ass. Gone was the nervousness and skittish behavior that came out anytime attention was focused on her body. In one clean movement, she threw the jacket near the fence where her duffel bag laid. She pulled one long leg after another behind her in a stretch that seemed unnatural no matter how athletic you were. She crouched down in her starting position, staring straight ahead. Focused. Either unaware or not giving a damn that there were people there cheering her on.