Chapter 6: We're Talkin' About Practice

Tuesday seemed to move in slow motion. I had, as I said I would, memorized the playbook the night before. This was high school football, so it didn't take me all that long. I'd always been a fast reader because of my memorization, and this subject was no different. For what it was worth, my efficiency in reading was offset by my inefficiency in oral instruction. I had to write down everything, or it was in one ear and out the other. Consequently, I was a note taking machine.

When the end of school finally rolled around, I began to get nervous. I was going into a situation in which I would be way out of my depth, in addition to walking into what I believed would be an extremely hostile environment. While I was usually confident in my ability to take care of myself, this was a situation in which I had no experience. I wondered how bad it was going to be.

I closed my locker after last period, and saw Lexi approaching.

"So when does the grand experiment begin?" she asked.

"Why do you want to know?" I countered, warily.

She hooked her arm in mine as I walked down the hall towards the locker room.

"I want to be there to support you." She said. "It's a rare day where I get to be your rock."

"Well, you might not want to stay that long. I have a pretty good feeling I'm about to get my ass handed to me for the next three hours." I firmly believed that.

"Well, if that's the case, I'll be around to drag your broken body back home." She smiled. We'd arrived at the locker room. Lexi kissed my cheek. "Do good. Play hard. Don't get killed." She said as she walked off. I took a deep breath, then entered the lion's den.

The moment I stepped into the locker room, all conversation ground to a halt. It felt like forty pairs of eyes were burning their way through to the back of my skull. Nothing like a warm reception I guess.

Coach Gaines saw me enter and the effect my arrival had. He walked over and spoke up.

"Team, listen up. I'm sure most of you know Nick. Some of you may not. I've been told he may be able to help us out, so I'm going to be giving him a look this week. He is to be afforded every consideration given to any other player on this team. Anyone who doesn't abide by those rules answers to me. I have no problem giving any of you a few dozen laps to run."

There was a little bit of grumbling after that, but it ended quickly when Coach said, "Nick, here's your practice jersey." When he tossed me the red 'don't hit me' jersey, you could hear a pin drop. After what seemed like a lifetime of silence, a locker on the other side of the room slammed shut, and Mark Moore walked out of the room without a word.

I walked over to an empty locker, away from everyone else, and started getting ready. The rest of the team began filing out to the field, and some of the grumbling had returned. Only Brandon remained.

"Don't worry, man." He said, trying to reassure me. "It won't be that bad."

I looked at him as I pulled the red jersey over my pads. "Easy for you to say. You're not about to be murdered."

"I said I'd do my best, and I plan on living up to that promise. I've already brought some of the guys around to my point of view. You just need to let it play out. Besides..." He jabbed me in the gut with his helmet, "My sister will kill me if you get murdered." Then he headed for the field, with me right behind.

Practice started out slow, with warm up laps. I was in pretty decent shape, so I had no trouble keeping up on the runs. I outran a good chunk of the bigger guys, and ended up in a pack with the backs and wide receivers. Mark was in the front of the pack with his "posse", so I made sure I hung back far enough to keep a good distance between us. Running around the track of our practice field, I noticed Lexi sitting on one of the small grandstands that were used for spectators when the soccer team had their games there. Sitting right next to her was Roxanne. I found it more than a little disquieting.

As we made laps around the tracks, two of the receivers broke ranks and slowed up a little, so that they drifted back towards me. One of them was Anthony Hill. The other was Brad Norton, whom everyone called "Cruiser". It was short for "cruise missile", which is how he played in the slot: direct and explosive. Anthony spoke first.

"Sup, Nick." He said, quietly.

"Anthony." I replied, keeping my voice low. Anthony and I didn't really have any kind of relationship. We knew of each other, and shared a Calc class, but that was about it. He was a tall, quiet kid, soft spoken and intelligent, and one of the only black students at Washington High.

"The rumors I've been hearing true?" he said, again, keeping it quiet so those at the front of the pack wouldn't hear. I had a feeling that Anthony wasn't all that broken up about the possibility of there being a new sheriff in town, but that he didn't want to potentially burn any bridges with the current sheriff either.

"Guess that depends on what the rumors are." I said, remaining non-committal. I looked over at him, though, for the next part, "But they might be." I added, "Those rumors might like a tall, fast receiver like yourself. You could say they'd thrive with one." I looked over at Cruiser. "Or two."

Both guys got the picture. The downside to being a receiver on a team with a bad quarterback was you looked bad by association. The two of them were already contemplating their change in fortune should I be the new signal caller, and I thought to myself that maybe winning over the team wouldn't be that hard after all.

That thought lasted for about forty minutes, when we began the scrimmage drills. Mark had started them out under center, and had run through a number of plays. They were mainly dink and dunk plays, because he couldn't throw it very far. A few were handoff plays to Brandon.

After a while, Coach blew his whistle. "Mark, take a breather. Capuzzo, you're up."

The play Coach had instructed me to run was a mid-range pass play to the slot receiver, out of the gun. In this formation, and for that matter, most of the time, Crusier was the slot receiver. It sounded relatively simple enough. I got into position and called out the snap count. Immediately upon receiving the snap from the center, my offensive line turned into Swiss cheese, and a defender blasted right through the line. Apparently he was in the pro-Moore camp, because I got absolutely leveled. I guess 'do not hit' was too many words to string together. Coach blew his whistle angrily, and stomped over to the d-man and started chewing him out, while I pulled myself up off the grass. I did manage to hold on to the ball, so I guess that was something.

With the d-man off to run his laps, another one took his place, and Coach told us to run it again. We reset the positions, and did it all over again. Same result. The o-line blocked not really at all, and I was pounded into the turf seconds later, again. Two minutes after that, three more players were off to run laps.

Coach called for us to run the play again. This time, I figured I knew what was coming. When I snapped the ball, I immediately rolled way back and to the left. Cruiser streaked out and ran his routes, and at the right moment, I fired a missile thirty five yards downfield to connect with him. Seconds later, and well after the ball was in Cruiser's hands, I was flattened. Absolutely flattened. Apparently 'late hit' wasn't in their vocabulary either. This one had been the worst hit so far, as I'd been fairly defenseless post-pass. The pads took most of the impact, but the helmet into my midsection was going to leave some nasty marks. I'm pretty sure I heard Roxanne shriek from the stands after it too. The pass though, was successful. It would have only been a ten-to-twelve yard pass from the line of scrimmage, because I'd backed up so much to avoid the pass rush, but thirty five yards in the air is still thirty five yards.

As I laid there on the ground waiting for my skull to stop rattling, I could hear Coach tearing the team a new asshole. He was pissed, probably more from the lack of control he had over his team than anything else. I noticed a shadow fall over me, and I looked up to see Cruiser standing there.

"You okay, man?" he asked, holding out a hand.

"I'll let you know when the swelling in my brain goes down." I responded.

"C'mon man, get up. Show 'em you're tough enough to hang, even with their bullshit. After that play I know you're gonna be the real deal, and they know it too. You took a hell of a hit there, and you knew it was coming, didn't you?" I grabbed his hand, and he helped pull me to my feet. Then he gave me a big grin, "But I got the ball."

The two of us walked over to where coach was laying into the team.

" ... sorriest bunch of men I've ever coached." He'd said as we arrived. "You think you're on this team because I like you? Each and every one of you can and will be replaced at the drop of a hat. Maybe it'll be because you're not performing. Maybe it'll be because someone else is better than you. Maybe it's just because I woke up that morning in a piss poor mood and decided I ... don't ... like ... you."

"The whys are irrelevant, so get it through your thick skulls. Playing on this team is not a right. I don't care who you think you are, or who you think your mommies and daddies are. Your continued presence here is dictated solely by my belief in your ability to help me win football games. And if I ever, I repeat ever see one of my players hit a red shirt in practice again, you will be dismissed from the team immediately."

"O-line, defense, hit the track. You'll run until I decide you might die of exhaustion. Then, and only then, I might let you stop."

There was a big groan from everyone, as most of the players got up and headed for the track. Coach looked at us. "Mark, Nick, go take some practice throws. Mark, you throw to Anthony, Nick, you throw to Cruiser. Start at a ten yard interval, increase by fives."

I saw what Coach was doing. It was going to be an air show, the same sort of thing I had done with Scott that day at the band game. We lined up on opposite sides of the field, but both facing in the same direction. Starting at the ten yard line, with Anthony and Cruiser at the twenty, we each threw them the ball, which they both caught easily. The tossed the balls away to assistants, while other assistants brought Mark and I another ball. Anthony and Cruiser backed up five yards. Another two passes. Another five yards, another two passes. We were now going to be throwing twenty five yards. Granted it was a static throw to a more or less static receiver, but it still should have been fairly easy for a quarterback. I knew from watching Mark's wobbly pass though that we were about at the end of his range. The next pass at thirty yards confirmed it, as his only made it about twenty eight yards. Cruiser caught mine easily.

I noticed that the goings-on on the field were not lost by the team running around the field. They were running markedly slower now, watching us. Coach walked over.

"Increase the intervals to ten yards." He said. This would bring us up to a forty yard pass.

"Coach I can't hit that." Mark said, not realizing that he, for all intents and purposes, probably just put one of the final stakes into his own football career. Cruiser just backed up the ten yards, and I hit him with a line drive right in the numbers.

"That's fine Mark. We know your limitations." Coach acknowledged, but said it like it was perfectly acceptable. "Nick, you keep at it."

Cruiser backed up another ten; a fifty yard completion.

Another ten yards; that was sixty yards in the air. My range in this sort of situation was probably around eighty. I knew I could throw it that far, and with no one trying to intercept it, Cruiser could catch it, but without a lot of practice at that range, I didn't know how effective it would be in a game. The Hail Mary was a last resort anyway, right?

"OK, boys, that's enough. Let's pack it in." Coach said. Cruiser started jogging back towards us, but when I gestured to take off, he headed back towards the end zone. I pulled back and unleashed the ball downfield, which he caught around the fifteen yard line. He waltzed it into the end zone, then returned to where the rest of us were with a big grin on his face. I knew Mark was staring daggers at me, but I just ignored him. I'd made my point. Hopefully the rest of the team knew it as well.

As we made our way back into the locker room, I saw Brandon give me a thumbs up. I was well aware he did it when Mark wasn't looking.

There was no drama that afternoon post-practice. The events that occurred on the field seemed to leave the entire team in a very conflicted state of mind. I'm sure that the vast majority of them felt they were going to pound me into the ground, and I wouldn't get up again. They felt a loyalty to Mark, earned or not, but on the other hand, they also saw what they saw. There was now someone else available that was a considerably better option. They also didn't want to get kicked off the team, and if supporting Mark in his harassment would lead to that, they would have to turn him down.

For my part, I hit the showers to clean off the turf stains. Everyone else left me alone. I hurt, and I knew it was only the beginning. I wasn't a stranger to pain by any means, but the three consecutive hits I took today would leave me bruised and aching for a few days. I hoped the pain would go down by Friday. I didn't want my debut to be hamstrung by me being less than a hundred percent.

I finished my shower, got dressed, and limped out of the locker room. I found Lexi waiting for me, which didn't really surprise me. Roxanne was with her, which at this point didn't really surprise me either.

"You look like shit." Lexi said. I couldn't argue.

"Excellent. Just the look I was going for." I said. I grimaced as I took a step forwards.

"Nick, you really don't look so good. Are you ok?" This from Roxanne, who looked genuinely concerned.

"I've been beaten and bruised before, right Lex?" I responded. She ignored me.

"We should get you home and get you patched up. Do you want me to take you?" she asked instead.

I pulled the keys to my truck out of my pocket and handed them to her. "You drive."

I limped my way out to the car. I could tell both girls wanted to offer their support, physically, by giving me a shoulder to lean on, but at the moment, I wasn't inclined to accept either offer. While normally I'd let Lexi do it, I had a feeling it would hurt Roxanne's feelings, which I didn't want to do. If I let Roxanne do it, I felt it might lead her to presume something I wasn't ready for her to presume. So I shuffled my sorry self to the truck.

Lexi let herself into the driver's seat, and I opened the passenger door. I turned to Roxanne.

"Thanks for the support, Roxanne. I appreciate it."

"Are you going to be ok? I don't have any plans, I could come over if you need anything." She asked, eagerly. I had a feeling she felt I chose Lexi over her anyways, and was trying to 'get back in the game'.

"I'll be fine, but thank you. I'm going to send Lexi home as soon as she drops me off, then I'm gonna take some pain killers and soak in the tub for an hour or two. I'll see you tomorrow, ok?" I tried to reassure her the best I could.

"All right. Have a good night, Nick." She said, still a little disappointed. She looked through the car over to the driver's side. "Bye Lexi, it was nice talking to you." She headed for her car as I closed the door.

It was only a minute after we hit the road before Lexi started in on me.

"When are you going to stop toying with that poor girl and go out with her?" she said, in a lecturing tone. I'd just slumped down in the seat and lowered the back rest.

"Oh good, I was hoping we could have this conversation," I groaned.

"Shut up. I'm serious." She said. We turned on to the street that led out of town, towards my house.

"Am I shutting up, or am I supposed to talk? The pain is confusing me."

She lashed out with her right hand and smacked me on the leg, which was the closest thing she could reach.

"Owwwww! Pain, remember?" I yelled at her.

"Enough. She's a perfectly nice girl. She's pretty, popular, and for some reason seems to think you're spectacular, even though you continue to blow her off."

"And I assume you just gleaned all that from your woman's intuition?" I said. I had a feeling that's what they'd been discussing at the practice on the bleachers, but I wanted more information, and getting Lexi to talk about it would take some prodding, and/or misdirection. "I didn't even think you had women's intuition."

"We talked."

"So I gathered." I pulled my ball cap down over my eyes, to block out the setting sun's rays. We were headed due west right now, and they were blasting us right in the face.

"What's your problem with her anyways?" she asked.

"Roxanne and I have been in the same class group since junior high. Last Friday was the first time I've ever spoken to her. Is it merely coincidence that just happened to be around the same time that her brother started to lobby for my help to get himself a scholarship? Forgive me if I find the timing a little suspect." I said, laying it out for her.

"Nick, that's not being very generous about her character. You barely know her."

"Exactly. I barely know her. She doesn't know me at all, and yet, suddenly she thinks I'm the next great boyfriend?" I didn't realize what I'd said until Lexi got real quiet. I was getting pissed off by the whole thing, and was still rolling when she switched gears. It was a few moments before she spoke again.

"I'm sorry, Nick." She said, quietly, almost sadly.

"For what?" I snapped, with more venom than I meant.

"I didn't think I messed you up that bad." She said. The sadness was easily evident in that statement.

I softened, realizing what she meant. "That's not what I meant, Lex. This has nothing to do with you."

"You can say whatever you want, Nick. I can see now as plain as day the damage I did. I wish things could have been different."

"Is that what this is? You trying to push me in to this to make up for what happened between you and me?" I inclined the seat back up as I looked over to her. We were stopped at a stoplight. It looked like her eyes were glassy. Was she crying? Not yet maybe, but damn close.

"No. Maybe. I don't know."

She sniffled a little bit, and I was once again disconcerted by the disconnect between the two Lexis I knew; the badass chick that made the queen bee Kara shrink like a wallflower at my party, and the girl close to falling apart in the seat next to me. She composed herself quickly though. I'd known Lexi for a while now, and as far as I knew, I was the only one that saw inside her defenses like that.

"I just want you to be happy ... and I want to be happy, and some days I feel that the two things are connected."

I didn't know what to say to that. "That's ... really deep, Lex."

The light turned green though, and with a final sniff she pulled herself together, and chuckled a little bit. "Yeah. I guess it kind of is."

Ten minutes later, we pulled into the long driveway of my house and motored up to the front door. Lexi got out and came around to the passenger side as I swung my feet out. I groaned out loud as my feet landed on the ground. This time, with no other eyes on us, I allowed her to wrap her arm around me and support me as we made our way into the house.

I dumped my stuff on the counter, and we headed down the stairs to my basement room. It was a long process. Once there though, I sat down on the bed, while Lexi walked into the bathroom to look for something.

"Take your shirt off!" She yelled from the other room.

I knew what she was looking for. "Under the sink, in the back." I replied, stripping off my t-shirt.

She came back into the room with a roll of Ace bandages, a bottle of pills, and a large towel. She looked at my chest; she could already see the bruises forming all over it and down my midsection. She touched the areas tenderly, but I flinched when she did.

"Nick, this looks terrible." She said upon examination. "I hope you didn't break any ribs."

"I didn't. I'd know if I did." I said. "Just wrap me up."

"I'll be right back," she said, as she got up to go get the ice.

She returned moments later carrying three large Zip Lock bags filled with ice. Lexi set them in the middle of the towel end to end to end, then wrapped the rest of the towel around them, making a large, somewhat insulated ice pad. She unfurled the bandages and used them to wrap the towel and ice around my midsection. She poured me a glass of water, and I took two of the pain killers. Then she pushed me down on the bed. She looked at the clock.

"I can only stay for a while, and then I need to go." She said, setting the alarm for an hour from now before crawling gingerly over me to settle into her regular position. She snuggled up and draped an arm over me, and I nodded off a few minutes later.

I wouldn't notice she left until I woke up three hours later, alone.

Wednesday morning arrived with me waking up in pain. I rolled over and hit snooze on the alarm a few times before dragging myself off to the shower. The hot water felt good, and began to loosen up the muscles that were aching. Lexi had left me a note the night before that said she'd be back in the morning with my truck to pick me up, so I got ready and awaited her arrival.

When she pulled up the driveway, I was already outside with the house locked. I'd taken a few more pain killers, and strong ones at that, so I was beginning to feel halfway normal again. She stopped the car and slid across the seat to the passenger side as I approached. I opened the driver's door and hopped behind the wheel.

"How are we feeling this morning?" she asked.

"Like I got my ass handed to me." I replied, climbing behind the wheel.

"Well, you kinda did." She conceded, "So I guess that's something."

"I guess it is." I pulled my sunglasses out of the compartment on the dash, and slipped them on as we headed off to school.

She started up again as soon as we pulled out on to the main road.

"So I was thinking about what you said yesterday, and tried to see if from your point of view."

"Annnnnnd, we're back." I said. I was not having fun with this.

"From what you said," she started, "it sounds like I've talked to her more than you have. I don't think she's the type of girl that's looking to latch on to a ride out of town, not that I'm saying that's what you are. Christ, Nick, your Dad's worth like a ton. It's no secret you guys have money. If she was trying to land you, wouldn't she have tried before?"

"Devil's advocate. Maybe her thing isn't money. Maybe it's jock. Wouldn't be the first time."

"Possible." She agreed. "But I don't think so. I think the conversation you had with her at the game last week made much more of an impression than you think. And then, the party? The whole rock star thing you had going on? I know it wasn't your intention to show off for her, but you did a hell of a job of it anyways. And, on top of all that, you're a good guy. There's not much not to like there, Nicky.

"Now look at it from her point of view. She's single, you're single. She's grown up around football, so have you. She's always played second fiddle to Kara Van Pelfry, but in this case, she knows Kara isn't on your radar. She knows she has a chance with you, Nick, one that Kara isn't going to take away from her."