Catching Jordan (3 page)

I can’t believe I just got sacked. Dad wil be furious when he finds out I got blindsided during a practice…great. Just what I need two days before opening game. More damned stress.

“My fault, Coach,” JJ says. He holds out a hand and quickly pul s me to a standing position.

“Don’t let that happen on Friday night!” Coach shouts, pointing a finger in JJ’s face.

Under my helmet, I breathe deeply. JJ didn’t have to take the blame—it wasn’t his fault. But he did owe me. Last Saturday, I covered for him when he was late for practice—he’d been making out with Lacey and had lost track of time.

Speaking of making out, I see Chace Crawford’s twin standing with the principal, looking concerned. Crap. So he saw my spil too. I’m glad I’m wearing my helmet, because my face feels hotter than a potato on a gril .

He has this sandy blond hair that stands up in places and sweeps across his forehead. His blue eyes remind me of a Crayola crayon, the truest blue there is, and his worn-out polo shirt and faded jeans just hang off him.

You can’t buy jeans that look like that—you have to wear them out for years to make them so perfect. I wonder if I could buy them off him. Wait— why would I do that? Nothing else he’d wear could compare with those jeans. I’m also glad to see he’s tal er than me by a few inches and has a great tan. And, oh the heavens, his body. What does he do? Work out for a living?

Wait.
What the hell is this guy doing on my field?

I feel like I could simultaneously fly and barf. I need to get my head back into practice.

Luckily, the principal starts speaking, distracting me. “Coach Mil er, I’d like you to meet Tyler Green. His high school footbal team won the Texas state championship last year. I know it’s a bit late for a tryout, but his family just moved here and I hope you’l consider him for the team. I can explain more later.”

Coach nods. “Thanks.”

The principal disappears back into the school, to the comfort of air conditioning.

Wait. Did the principal just say something about Tyler and footbal ? And trying out for
my
team? I need to stop staring and figure out what’s going on here.

Tyler, with his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, toes the yard line, then glances around at the team. Why’s he so nervous? For someone who won a state championship, you’d think he’d be this pompous asshole strutting around like he’s fucking Tom Brady.

“So, Tyler,” Coach says.

“Cal me Ty, Coach.”

“Okay. So Ty, what position do you play?”

“Quarterback, sir.”

I take a step back, and everyone else on the team laughs.

The position is mine.

It’s been mine for two years and this new kid isn’t going to take it away.

“Quiet!” Coach yel s. He gives the team a scary look and we al stop talking and laughing. One of those looks means: if you don’t behave, you’re gonna run five miles
while
wearing pads. “Ty—we already have a starting quarterback. An al -state quarterback.”

Ty’s eyes seem to fil with pain, and he looks down at the ground. I’ve never seen a QB act like this before. Most are cocky, ful of attitude.

Leaders. I can’t imagine fol owing a guy whose eyes give so much away. But he’s buff, and obviously good if he played for a Texas championship team. Texans take their footbal seriously. It’s practical y a religion down there.

So what’s wrong?

Wait. What’s al this sympathy? Jordan Woods isn’t sympathetic. I’m a rock.

“But we could always use another good backup,” Coach says. “Our captain wil run you through some dril s. Woods!”

Though my knees are stil wobbling, somehow I run over to Coach. Ty stretches out his hand to shake mine. When I grasp his hand, I squeeze as hard as possible. Gotta show him that I’m captain, that I’m in charge.

Ty eyes my hand in his, then quickly releases it. “Ow,” he says, smiling. The sight of his smile makes my body melt like the Wicked Witch of the West.

“Woods—run some dril s with him,” Coach says. “Do a few quick passes, some intermediate. Hit Henry on a five-yard slant. Do a post route with Higgins.”

“Yeah, Coach,” I say, glancing at the cheerleaders. They’ve stopped doing their pyramids and jumps. They’re al mesmerized by Ty, just like me.

“Woods?” Coach says. “You paying attention? Take off your helmet—I want to check your eyes. You took a pretty hard hit there.”

I slowly take off my helmet. I pass the helmet to Henry and start running my hands through my hair, pushing it away from my face so Coach can look in my eyes. Henry watches me, his mouth fal ing open.

Ty gasps. Then smirks and laughs. He obviously had no idea I’m a girl.

“Dude, you’d better watch it,” Henry says, taking a step toward Ty.

When JJ slaps a hand on Ty’s shoulder, my mind flashes back to last year when JJ punched a guy from Northgate High for grabbing my butt after a game. “Show Woods some respect! Or I’l kick your ass.”

“No disrespect intended,” Ty says, holding a hand up to JJ’s chest. “I’m surprised…and impressed. That’s al .”

After taking a look in my eyes and confirming al ’s okay with me—I mean, besides the fact Ty is completely throwing me off my game—Coach says, “Let’s go. We’ve wasted enough practice time.”

I take my helmet from Henry and stuff it on my head, then pick up the bal and yel , “Henry! Go long!”

He takes off running down the field and changes directions a few times. I launch a thirty-five-yard deep pass that drops right into his hands. Thank God. I’m back. I’m myself again.

“Nice,” Ty says, nodding. He has this deep, sexy Texas accent.

“Your turn,” I say, grabbing another bal and tossing it to Ty. “Higgins—post route!”

Higgins jets down the field, then takes a quick left. Ty bombs the bal right into Higgins’s arms. I’m impressed—I couldn’t have done it any better, and Ty doesn’t even know how Higgins moves. We run a few more dril s and Ty makes them al look effortless. We’re equals.

And I’m scared.

Ty’s bigger, obviously stronger, and, unlike me, he probably didn’t screw up in the final two minutes of a state championship game. Johnson City beat us 13–10 because I threw an interception and they returned it for a touchdown.

What if Coach gives my position to him? I try to shake this thought from my mind—I’ve worked years for this. I’ve earned it. For the coach to give away my position, I’d have to mess up in a spectacular way. Like five interceptions fol owed by a fumble.

Final y, Coach Mil er comes back over. “Woods, Ty—let’s talk,” he says, gesturing for us to walk away from the rest of the players. Henry glances at me as we move toward Coach.

“Ty—that’s quite an arm you’ve got there. And you’ve got highly developed instincts as wel ,” Coach says.

“Thanks, sir.”

“You’re a senior?”

“Yeah.”

“And you started for your team in Texas when you won the championship last year?”

“Yeah.”

Now it’s my turn to stare at the grass.

Thanks to our boosters, mostly wives of former Titans players who stil cal Franklin home, Hundred Oaks has the best high school footbal program in Tennessee. We have shitloads of money to put toward buying state-of-the-art equipment and paying first-rate staff. Coach Mil er used to coach col ege bal , but gave it up for a slower pace of life when his wife got sick. His expertise has led several players to get ful rides to col ege.

I bet that’s why Ty wants to play for Hundred Oaks. It’s like we’re in the same league, but he’s one step higher. Tears sting my eyes. I need to focus. I can’t cry in front of my team.

Damned estrogen.

Coach narrows his eyes. “Why would you give al that up? Your parents couldn’t stay in Texas one more year to ensure you got your choice of col eges? And why Franklin? If you had to move to Tennessee, I’m surprised your parents didn’t search for a school district lacking a star quarterback.”

The pain returns to Ty’s eyes. “I did what I had to do, sir. I just moved here with my mother and sister.” Mussing his sandy hair, Ty peeks at me.

“Some things are more important than footbal .”

What?
A Texas footbal player who doesn’t kneel down and pray to the Cowboys every Sunday?

Epic.

Coach nods. “I see. Wel , you’re on the team, but I don’t know how much playing time I can guarantee you.”

“Thank you, sir. Being on the team is good enough for me,” Ty says with a hint of a smile. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Great. We’l get you a uniform—wear your jersey on Friday for the pep ral y,” Coach says. “That’s enough for today, Woods. No practice tomorrow—the team needs to rest before the game.”

“Got it, Coach.” I walk back to my team and yel , “No practice tomorrow. Don’t do anything stupid on your day off.”

I pul my helmet off and head to the girls’ locker room as quickly as I can—I need to get in and out before cheerleading practice ends or they’l quiz me for information about their crushes, aka my teammates.

They don’t seem to understand that the guys don’t spend al their time talking about girls. Only about, I’d say, ninety percent of their time is devoted to that. And even then, it’s only about who’s hooking up with who, and who wants to hook up with who. The day I hear JJ talking about his feelings is the day I’l run to a nuclear fal out shelter and pray for my life.

About halfway across the field, JJ, Carter, and Henry jog up behind me. Henry throws an arm around my shoulders as he pul s off his helmet, shaking his curly blond hair loose. He wipes a few curls off his forehead and whispers, “So Coach is letting that Ty dude on the team?”

“Yup,” I reply, straightening my jersey.

“That’s bul shit,” JJ replies, cracking his knuckles.

“What’s his story?” Carter asks.

“No idea,” I say, but I’m dying to know. I start wiping the dust from my hands and off my footbal pants.

Henry looks at me and whispers, “You sure you’re okay?”

“Total y.” I hear my voice wobble.

“That guy’s got nothing on you,” JJ adds, looking over his shoulder at Ty, who’s talking to Coach.

“We both know that’s not true. Did you see his footwork? Ty’s incredible.”

“Yeah…incredible,” Henry says, closing his eyes, pul ing me in closer to him as we approach the girls’ locker room.

Yanking the door open, I say, “’Kay, Henry—see you in a few,” leaving him outside. He swings his helmet back and forth like a pendulum, staring at me as I let the door slam.

I walk through the white concrete locker room, which is covered with old red and black checkered carpet. I take a seat on a bench, then yank off my practice jersey and pads and walk into the showers. The cold water feels great, and final y, I cool down. When I’m finished, I pul on a pair of mesh shorts and a T-shirt before walking back into the locker room. Parading around in my plain white underwear in front of cheerleaders isn’t my idea of fun.

I hear the giggling when I’m stil ten yards away from the other girls. Shuddering, I head to my locker, open it, and yank my bag out.

“I think JJ wil tel me he loves me soon,” Lacey says to Kristen.

“He definitely wil ,” Kristen says. “I can tel by the way he looks at you.”

I force myself to cough so I won’t laugh. JJ stares at Lacey the way he stares at every single one of the Titans’ cheerleaders. It’s the same way he stares at cheese fries, for that matter.

“Hey, Jordan,” Lacey says, brushing her brown hair. Must she stand around in skimpy black underwear? She’d get more coverage wearing a spool of thread than those things.

“Hi,” I say, focusing on packing my bag and getting the hel out of here. I ignore my wet hair; brushing it wil take too much time.

“When’s the last time you shaved your legs?” Lacey asks.

I bite the inside of my cheek. Sometimes Lacey makes me feel so shitty. I mean, what if Ty notices I haven’t shaved in, like, a week?

“So, um, has JJ mentioned me lately?” Lacey says.

You mean, besides to tell me you guys slept together in the back of your mom’s car last night?
I’m stil trying to figure out how JJ could fit horizontal y inside the back of a Ford Taurus, but I’l take his word that it actual y happened.

“Nope,” I say. “Hasn’t said a word.”

Lacey slams her hairbrush into her bag.

I try to cobble together a sympathetic look, but it’s harder than I thought it would be.

I’ve never told anyone this, not even Henry, but one time I overheard Lacey and Kristen talking bad about me in the bathroom…

I remember hearing Lacey whine, “I don’t understand why JJ hangs out with her so much. It’s not like she’s cute—she’s huge!”

“I dunno,” Kristen had replied. “Sam Henry fawns over her too, even though she’s a dyke.”

“JJ promises me that he’s not sleeping with her…”

“Maybe she’s sleeping with both him and Henry.” And that wasn’t a one-time diss. Kristen’s a repeat offender.

Right then, Marie and Carrie, Henry’s ex, come in through the locker room door.

“Sam Henry asked me out,” Marie is saying to Carrie, who purses her lips, biting them. “Do you mind if I say yes?”

“No…I’m glad,” Carrie says, focusing on me, and then she motions for Marie to fol ow her.

They head straight over to my locker. “Who’s the new guy?” Carrie asks me.

“His name’s Ty Green,” I reply. “He just moved here from Texas.”

“He looked pretty good out there,” Lacey says. “I mean, in terms of footbal obviously.”

I snort. Like Lacey knows
anything
about footbal .

“Jealous?” Kristen asks. “He seems just as good as you.”

“No. I’m glad to have a great backup,” I respond, grabbing my bag. “He plays quarterback like me—you know, it’s a position in this game cal ed footbal .”

Kristen rol s her eyes and goes back to staring at herself in the mirror. “Why’s your face al red?”

I jet for the door.

I walk back across the field toward my truck, and on the way, I spot Coach Mil er talking to Ty. Coach is frowning and scratching his chin, his glance alternating between Ty and the ground. They stop talking and, like me, Ty heads toward the parking lot.