Jackson came into school on Monday, sore. He and Kenny didn't wallow in regret and pity. The day after the disastrous game that knocked the Titans' JV squad out of Regionals, they were both competing and training.
They raced each other—Jackson kept the sprints close and won the first few, but was hopeless on the mile.
They challenged each other to see who could do the most pushups—Kenny won 112–101.
The next challenge was squats—Kenny won 173–148.
Later in the day, Jackson even called up Sachin and—homie that he is—Sachin came out to play a little QB for them as the pair competed in a series of one-on-ones. Here Kenny dominated.
All the other contests had been close, but in the fifty-odd battles they had, no matter who was guarding who, and who was the Receiver, Kenny got the better of Jackson 40 times.
When Jackson walked through the wide, double doors of Arcadia High on that chilly Monday morning before the Arizona sun had baked the ground, he still didn't know whether he had lost so badly because he was rusty, he'd let himself go during his time injured, or Kenny was just THAT much better than him.
He slumped into his seat, still thinking it over. Whatever the issue was, he needed to keep practising hard if he was going to catch up, especially with Kenny's plan to make it to varsity before the season was over.
'Yo, you good, man? You look like shit,' Marcus asked. He leaned halfway out of his seat. The bell hadn't rung yet, so the teacher was allowing the students who had already arrived to talk freely.
'Yeah, I'm good. Just been practising. Guess I'm not used to hard work now that my leg's healed,' Jackson said.
Eddie sat in front of Jackson, though he sat backwards, facing Marcus and Jackson. 'You sure you're good, bro?'
'He's not capping,' Sachin interjected. He was sitting beside Eddie, in front of Marcus. 'I was with him yesterday.'
Marcus and Eddie looked at him strangely.
'Bruh. Don't look at me like that. I didn't have a meet this weekend. He just needed someone to throw some balls.'
'PAUSE,' Marcus said, sparking laughter from everyone but Sachin.
'Fuck you guys. You know what I meant, Jackson.'
'Yeah, but you made it sound weird.' Jackson wiped tears from his eyes.
'Fuck all of ya.' Sachin turned away. The others laughed again.
Jackson had missed this. His friends had lifted his spirits so easily. Laughter was the greatest cure after all, and as the day dragged on, he'd almost forgotten the heartache of the Titans being eliminated and what that meant for him.
… Almost. Then he spotted Jasmine. He didn't run into her, nor she to him. He saw her across a crowded hall by a stairwell. She didn't see him. He didn't shout to her, or veer in her direction. He kept his head down and ducked away without interacting with her.
After finally mending things with her, he didn't want to burden them again by dropping more bad news on her. He felt like he was always dropping heavy shit on her. It'd be better if he waited until he had something good to tell her.
On his way to the next class, he had to remind himself constantly that he wasn't avoiding her. He just had to get to his next class. She didn't need to worry about him, about how he might react now that his season was ripped away right when he thought he might finally grab hold of it.
"That's not true, anyway. Kenny and I are making varsity." No matter how many times Jackson told himself that, it felt like a lie. He knew he had a lot more work to do to make his varsity dream a reality.
Thinking about how to improve so quickly in such a brief span of time consumed most of his thoughts for the rest of the day. His mind wandered out of the classroom and on to the practice field long before his body did.
He was one of the first to arrive at the practice field. He'd gone straight there when the final bell rang. Coach Otsen was already there setting out cones, dummies, and other tools.
'Warm up, Jackson,' he shouted.
'Yes, Coach!' And Jackson did just that.
As he was stretching, Coach Otsen approached. 'How's that leg feeling today?'
'Good, Coach.'
'Good! It's gonna get a real workout today.' Coach Otsen walked away, going back to setting up the final preparations. As Jackson finished his stretches, he watched Coach Otsen work, trying to predict just what hellish punishment the sadistic coach had in mind for the team who had already got themselves eliminated.
Kenny's arrival pulled him from his thoughts. 'Sup?'
Jackson flashed a grin. 'Hey.'
'The first step of making varsity starts today. Ready to blow some minds?' Kenny offered a fist bump.
Jackson looked at the extended fist. They were well past the first step. The journey would've started long before either of them knew it. He smiled and bumped fists all the same. 'Yeah, let's kick some ass.'
'Hell yeah.'
Kenny—eager to catch up with Jackson—settled in with his stretches as Jackson started running laps at Coach Otsen's behest.
Shane arrived not long after Kenny, then the floodgates opened and more players and coaches turned up one after the other until the entire staff and varsity team were present. Yet Kenny and Jackson were the only members of the JV team who had shown up.
While the players warmed up, Coach Otsen checked his watch. There were less than five minutes before practice officially started—meaning those who hadn't arrived yet were already late—and the clock was ticking.
Jackson's eyes darted around. Despite the JV team being eliminated, Coach Otsen had ordered all of them to attend the next practice, even he had got that memo. He didn't want to even THINK about what Coach Otsen would do to someone who no-showed practice.
He wouldn't find out that day, as little by little the JV members trickled in. Rudy was the first of the latecomers to show. The others followed soon enough. All but Freddy, who waited until the last minute—Coach Otsen watched every second on his watch—before finally showing up, dragging his feet the whole way.
Coach Otsen looked at them expectantly, though none were brave enough to say something first.
Coach Otsen asked, 'Do you have nothing to say for yourselves?' after they had all put on their vests.
There were a few mumbled apologies, but those didn't lessen Coach Otsen's fury. His eyes fell on Rudy.
Rudy shrugged. 'Ain't shit to say. A teacher held me up. Don't know why anyone else was late.'
'I-I didn't think you'd want m-me here, Coach!' Freddy said. All eyes turned to him.
Coach Otsen didn't prod him to continue, he didn't need to, his fierce gaze practically pulled the words straight from Freddy's mouth.
'I-I-I was never really part of this team to begin with. I-I was just filling in. A-And now that the season's o-over because … because w-we l-lost… I-I thought you wouldn't want m-me back.'
Silence blanketed the field after Freddy's stuttering ramble ended. All eyes were still on him, while his were on his feet.
Finally, after an excruciatingly long wait, Coach Otsen broke the silence. 'That's the dumbest shit I've heard. Nobody steps foot on my field without being part of the team, and you're no exception to that, Frederick. But if you don't WANT to be on this team, then you're free to go. All of you.' He turned his harsh gaze upon the rest of the players. 'Anyone who doesn't want to be here, there's no fucking door. There's nothing stopping you. Leave.'
No one moved.
'I-I want to be on the team,' Freddy said. It was quiet, as if spoken to himself, but his words carried across the field.
'Don't let any doubts hold you back, then. If you really want to be a part of this team, you'll give it your all. Even if you thought I didn't want you, you'd do your best to prove me wrong and show me why you deserve to be on this team. Think of these upcoming practices as your tryouts for next season. Show your worth and earn your spot back… maybe you'll even earn yourself a promotion.'
Kenny's eyes brightened. Coach Otsen was looking for someone to step up, someone to make that leap and claim a varsity spot. Kenny wouldn't let anyone take that spot from him, even Jackson.
'With that said, it seems there's a problem with effort throughout the JV team this year. Hell, it'd stretch back to last year at least. It's about damn time I rectified that.'
Jackson didn't like the sound of that. No one did. At least no one on the JV team. Kenny was indifferent, willing to do anything to prove he was good enough for varsity. A few varsity players, mainly Grant and his jackals, snickered as they watched Coach Otsen dole out his discipline.
'Back of the end-zone. On the line.'
The players groaned. Some hung their heads back, but they all followed Kenny to the line. They knew what came next.
Grant laughed louder. Coach Otsen's head snapped around to him. 'Coach Knight, get the varsity team started on their practice.'
Grant's grin evaporated. As he stalked away, he kept his eyes on the JV team.
Everyone lined up. Bunched together, they occupied less than half the end-zone's back line. Jackson shifted how his vest sat on his shoulders. The weight was already dragging him down just thinking about the sprint they had to do.
Coach Otsen stood beside them, stopwatch in hand.
'Up and back. Get down and touch the line. You've got thirty-five seconds.'
'Thirty… Coach!' Vincent caught himself on Owen, almost fainting.
'I don't want no excuses. You run, you touch that line, and you make it back here in thirty-five seconds. You don't want to know what happens if just one of you fucks up one of those things. Coach Vasquez is down there, he'll make sure you really touch that line.'
Down at the other end of the field, Coach Vasquez waved and jumped around frantically.
'But Coach—'
'Ready. Get set. Go!' Coach Otsen clicked the starter on the stopwatch. The boys could hear the seconds falling away. It sounded more like machine-gun fire than a ticking clock.
They rushed forward, a stampede. Kenny darted ahead of the pack first with the best start. At half field, Jackson caught up.
By the time they reached the back of the opposite end-zone, Jackson was ahead by a length. Rudy, Lonnie, and Kenny were all neck and neck.
'KEEP GOING! MAXIMUM EFFORT!' Coach Vasquez cheered.
Jackson tapped the line and whirled around. He stumbled when he pushed off. Vincent and some of the other Linemen were lagging far behind. You didn't need a clock of your own to tell they wouldn't make it, and that knowledge caused Jackson to lose focus for a second.
He regained his footing. Kenny, who had the best turnaround, caught up with him. Jackson shook all thoughts of others from his head and continued his sprint, only the finish line in his sight and mind.
Lonnie struggled at the turn, which let Rudy charge ahead of him. Isaac led the chasers behind the leading group, Pete close on his heels. Then there was Freddy. After him, there was a gap before Owen led the Linemen, who all lumbered after him after another small gap.
Jackson couldn't pull away from Kenny, and the two finished together. Jackson slowed to a jog. Kenny stopped more abruptly.
Jackson wheeled around, transitioning to walking. He was panting hard. 'You shouldn't stop so fast,' he told Kenny. 'Better to ease back down.'
Kenny panted as well. He said nothing, but nodded in acknowledgement. They looked at Coach Otsen, though they couldn't read if they'd failed from his stern face. Then they watched the rest of the team cross over the finish line.
Lonnie had caught up with Rudy, Isaac pulled further away from Pete and Freddy, but they were still in the same order as they had been at the halfway point.
Coach Otsen looked up after Vincent crossed the line last. 'On the line, and get your hands off your knees.'
More groans echoed his command. The players trudged back to the line.
'Can't we take the vests off?' Rudy asked. Coach Otsen looked at him as if he'd uttered blasphemy. 'We won't make it otherwise.'
'You'll run until you make it or you'll run all day.'
'I need water,' Vincent said.
'What you need is to get on the fucking line!'
They lined up again. Coach Otsen counted them down, then they took off. Once more, they failed to beat the clock. This time was slower than the first.
After the second failure, Coach Otsen allowed them a quick drink, but then it was back to the line.
Coach Otsen wasn't anything if not a man of his word. He had them running all day, though they didn't get any quicker.
Throughout, Jackson was so tired, and pushing himself so hard, that he couldn't even take a second to look at what the varsity team was doing. He was sure a large contingent was laughing, but he was more concerned with what drills they were doing while laughing at his and the others' misery.
After what felt like hours of failed sprints, Coach Otsen gave them a longer break. The bleachers looked like the aftermath of a massacre, with bodies laid out all over the bottom rows. Mercifully, Coach Otsen allowed them to dump their vests during the break as well.
Kenny was the only one of the JV team who forced himself to sit upright whilst the others lay down. He also was the only one who kept his vest on.
Jackson's leg ached deep in his shin. His chest was on fire, and a growing knot stretched across his side. But his leg was killing him. He sat up, massaging his leg. He'd seen it done so much and done it himself enough times that he felt like he could massage the aches away even in his sleep.
Today, it helped dull the pain, but it didn't go away fully.
Jackson was so tired, hurting so much, that he hadn't noticed a spectator in the stands. She'd been there since practice started, and she'd been watching the whole time. Even now, he didn't notice she'd moved right behind him until she spoke up.
'Is your leg okay?' Jasmine asked.
Jackson jumped, almost falling off the bench. He looked at Jasmine like a deer caught in the headlights, breathless again, but for an entirely different reason.
She giggled, though her eyes still held concern. 'Sorry, didn't mean to spook ya.' As she shifted down to his row, sitting beside him, her eyes darted down to his leg, then back to his face, silently repeating her question.
'N-No, s-sorry. I-I didn't see you there. I uh, my leg's fine. It'll be fine. I'm okay. Are you, why are you here? I mean, uh, not that you can't be here, but it's just, I didn't expect it, and um …' He decided it was best if he just shut his mouth.
'Well, I wanted to talk with you, see how the game went. But uh, this training seems a lot more brutal than I remember. I don't think last time had as much running, either. What'd you guys do to piss your coach off? Someone shit in his cornflakes?'
'Uh…' Jackson blushed but shook his head. Processing more than Jasmine's last question, he frowned and looked away. 'Ugh, no. It's nothing like … this is happening because we lost, and because Coach thinks we don't care enough.'
'Seems a little excessive for one loss.'
Jackson's eyes lowered. He hugged his leg to his chest. Suddenly, it didn't hurt anymore, nor was he out of breath or aching all over. The knot was still growing, but it wasn't a stitch in his side anymore, more like a lump of lead in his stomach.
'Our season's over. We lost and now we're out of Regionals, so there's no more football for the JV team.'
'Oh… shit. Sorry, I didn't know.'
'No, there's nothing to be sorry about. It's our own fault. That's why we're doing this, so we'll do better next time.'
'Hey, but you guys gave your all, right? I mean, sometimes you just lose, even the best teams lose, eventually.' She saw Jackson's expression sour. 'Did you at least get to play?'
He winced. The knot turned into a ball of needles, stabbing him from the inside. Thankfully, the break was over, and he was called back to the line. It didn't seem as dreadful, at least not as daunting as finishing this conversation.
'Sorry, I gotta go,' he mumbled before heading off.
Jasmine watched him, staying where she sat. She opened her mouth to say something, but swallowed her words. She kept her cheers silent as she watched the rest of the practice play out.