Chapter 3

We managed to finish practice with no more incidents, although it was a rough finish. Everyone was icy toward each other, even the kids who were not directly part of the conflict. The vibes were just off, and the coach wasn’t having it. We’d ended up having to run laps for the last ten minutes of practice, with a threat that we’d spend the entire next day running laps if we didn’t get our heads out of our asses.

The locker room wasn’t any better. We managed to stay in our space and didn’t have any blowups, but I kept catching Elijah glaring at me every time I looked in his direction. The rest of the guys joined him, adding the occasional muttered threats to go along with the glares.

I got looks from the walk-on guys, too, although different ones, like they were trying to figure me out. I knew that so far, I’d been more or less standoffish, clearly friends with Elijah and the rest, while not participating with them in any of the mistreatment. I also hadn’t stopped it, which meant until today, they had probably put me in the enemy category.

From the way they were looking at me, it was possible that estimation was changing, but they weren’t ready to accept me with open arms either.

Not that I’d expected it.

I hadn’t stood up to Hunter because I was hoping for some kind of favoritism or whatever from the new guys. I’d done it because I couldn’t take seeing them treated like that, not with how I remembered feeling when people had treated me the same way. Even if that was only in a dream.

I just wished I’d given it a little more thought before I’d done it, because I was pretty sure I’d just burned a bridge with the guys that I wasn’t going to be able to fix. Those guys had been my main group of friends since forever, and the way we’d acted, it had kind of alienated us from being friends with anyone else. Sure, we’d had hangers-on in middle school, since we’d been popular football players, but they all wanted something from us.

Now, at best, I was going to have a few guys that might be apathetic to me and a bunch of guys who were going to actively hate me for being a traitor, which I was positive is how Elijah was seeing me. Not that I would change my actions. I couldn’t continue hanging with Elijah and the rest of them now that I could see how they really were.

But part of me wished I could. I didn’t want my freshman year to suck, and that seemed like exactly how it was going to be.

I put the rest of my stuff away, grabbed my bag, and headed out of the locker room without looking at anyone. I was walking home again today, since I didn’t have my license yet, Mom never felt like driving if she didn’t have to for work, and Dad wouldn’t be home from work for a few hours.

I had my head down, mostly just trying to ignore everyone, when a voice yelled out, “Blake!”

I looked up and barely readied myself before Brandy flung herself at me, her arms locking around my neck as she nearly knocked me off balance as she kissed me.

I stumbled back a step as she began to kiss me aggressively. Honestly, I was mostly trying to get my bearings. We’d been dating for seven months, but with how messed up this dream had my head, I hadn’t even thought about her all week. I did vaguely remember she was supposed to be back from cheer camp today, but it had completely slipped my mind.

“Whoa,” I breathed as she finally pulled back. “Hey there.”

“I’m back! Did you miss me?”

“I, uh...” I said while my brain scrambled to catch up. “Yeah, of course. How was camp?”

“Oh my God, it was amazing!” Brandy bounced on her toes, her ponytail swinging. “But never mind that. I saw you out there today. When did you get so good?”

“You were watching practice?”

“Duh! As soon as I got back, I had to come see my man in action. Seriously, Blake. You were incredible. I watched all your games last year, and you were good but ... not this good.”

I wasn’t sure if I agreed with her or not. I think I was a little better because I was starting to take some of the stuff I remember being taught my freshman and especially sophomore years in the dream life and applying them. Considering how clumsy we’d looked as a unit, especially today, I wouldn’t think anyone would call what we did ‘amazing.’

“Thanks,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck and taking a slight step back from her.

Brandy kept talking, but I wasn’t really registering what she was saying. I started having a memory of this reunion, although slightly different, since she’d commiserated with my sitting on the bench and Gabriel starting instead.

I also started to remember something else from the dream life. A fight we had around Christmas because I found out she’d been cheating on me with Mason since the middle of the summer. Part of me wanted to be disgusted by the revelation, but for the dream me, it was the distant past, and I found myself torn between being heartbroken and apathetic, which was a really strange sensation.

I vaguely remembered that in the dream timeline, I had discovered Brandy’s affair when someone, one of the girls on the cheer squad I think, told me she saw them kissing outside of the diner just before Christmas break. The revelation had led to Mason being ostracized from our group until he eventually broke up with her, at which point the guys let him back in. The whole situation had been a mess.

I tried to think about what happened to her in the dream life after that, but in that timeline, we hadn’t kept in touch once she broke up with Mason. Other than seeing each other around school, we never really spoke. She had gotten involved with a basketball player by the end of the year, and I think she was kicked off the cheer team our sophomore year after a falling out with another cheerleader who was close to Mason.

The more I thought about it, the more certain I became that Brandy and Mason were already seeing each other before she went to cheer camp. Although I’d been pretty much accepting that the dream was somehow matching with my life, but part of me had written that off as just predicting what was going to happen.

My friends were jerks, so that wasn’t any kind of premonition, just a realization that they really were and I had been too. Maybe that was maturing or whatever. Coaches yelling and pushing us? I mean, that’s just football. Joshua being a creep? I mean, it wasn’t a big leap, although serial killer seemed like the kind of wild escalation that dreams had.

I couldn’t really think about my dad, ‘cause when I did it made me incredibly sad. But looking at Brandy and feeling the revulsion toward her from the dream instead of what I felt when I saw her in June. This was different. This was changing my opinion of someone based on something I had no way of knowing was true or not.

But ... looking at her, I could feel a pit in my stomach. I just knew it was true.

“ ... and then Missy tried to do a backflip, but she totally wiped out! You should’ve seen Coach’s face. I swear, I thought she was gonna ... Blake? Hello? Earth to Blake!”

“Sorry, what?” I said, suddenly snapping back to the here and now.

“Seriously? I’ve been talking for like, ever,” she said, crossing her arms and cocking her head. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing, I’m just ... tired. Practice was rough today.”

“Aw, poor baby. Want me to kiss it better?”

She leaned in, but I took a step back.

“I just really need to go home, get a shower and lay down for a bit, if that’s okay.”

“Oh. Okay. Will you call me later?”

“Sure,” I said, trying to give her a smile.

Brandy hesitated for a second, then quickly pecked me on the cheek before turning to leave.

“Elijah. Mason. I’m back,” she said past me as the other guys came out of the locker room.

I couldn’t help myself and looked back. Maybe it was my imagination, or the image of her kissing Mason in my dream memories, but I could swear she was giving him a look, and he was returning it.

I just shouldered my bag. The whole situation gave me a lot to think about as I started the long walk home.

Connor hit the ground, slipping and letting his defender through, which caused the pocket to start to collapse around me even as the rest of the line tried to adjust to stop more from getting through. I’d been in the middle of my read and no one was open yet, there was no way I was making it through the rest of them before I got hit.

I spun to my right, just twisting away from Victor’s outstretched arms and made it around the chaos, continuing right and pushing as hard as I could as everyone started to angle for me.

It was a race to pick up as much yardage as I could before they got to me. There were too many people between me and the end zone and I was forced to step out of bounds after about twenty yards. Close enough to the goal line that I was a little annoyed I didn’t make it the last few yards, but still a good run.

“That’s it!” Coach Heidemann blew the whistle, signaling the end of practice.

I tossed the ball to Coach Plummer and jogged back to join everyone else.

“Nice hustle, Simms,” he said as I caught up to them. “Alright, everybody in! Good work today, everyone. Rosters will be posted shortly, so stick around. Alright, hit the locker rooms. Simms, hold back a minute.”

I watched everyone else walking toward the locker room and tried to think what I might have done to get me singled out from everyone else.

“That was some run, Blake. You’ve got a lot of talent and I can really see you going far with our program, but I want you to think about how you want to do that. The quarterback is the leader of the team, and that means you set the standard for how the rest of your guys play. If you buck the rules, they’re all gonna do it.”

“I’m not sure what I did wrong, Coach.”

“You ran out of the pocket instead of dumping the ball or hitting one of your check downs. I know it worked out for you this time, but we play tight in the pocket for a reason. I know you’ve probably watched a few of the college guys and even one or two of the pros who get a lot of credit for how mobile they are, but I want you to think about how those players are in the minority and why you don’t see it in high school much. More often than not, it ends in a sack and lost yardage. You gotta stay in the pocket longer, go through your reads, and either pass the ball or hand it off. It’s about making the smart play, not the flashy one.”