“Don’t know.” She doesn’t look at Ace and he pretends he’s not eating her up with his eyes. The whole situation between the two is pretty damn amusing, and as long as it doesn’t fuck up the season, that’s how it will remain.
I throw on a pair of cargo shorts and a Warriors T-shirt and shove my feet into a pair of flips. Ace leads the way into Coach’s office.
“Shut the door and sit down,” Coach orders.
As soon as our asses hit the hard plastic, he hands us each a sheet of paper.
“Here’s the list of the new guys. Twenty-six of them. Andersen, you’re in charge of the offense. Masters, the defense list is yours.”
I have ten guys on my list. These are mini leadership tests from Coach. He likes to see what we’re made of off the field. We’re set on defense, having lost only two senior starters last year.
Ace has the bigger task. Some of his guys, like Campbell, are expected to start and make an immediate impact. However, since they haven’t played together before, things like timing and chemistry, knowing what the other player is thinking about before he opens his mouth, will take work.
But they don’t have time. In college, we have very little room for error. One loss and we could be out of the national championship hunt before the season is even underway. Last year we lost in the first round of the playoffs because we couldn’t score. Ace needs to turn that around, like yesterday.
“Any issues we should know about?” I ask, tucking the list away. I already know my guys. I met them at spring camp and again when they arrived for summer term in June. For the most part they were good guys—young, eager, and hiding their homesickness under a thin sheen of bravado.
“Maurice Kim, Kaleb Shannon, and Jack Campbell all have academic issues. Make sure Campbell stays academically eligible. The other two we are redshirting, so spend less time on them. Andre Getty is already making noise about quitting. He could be a solid backup. If we can keep him, that’d be good for the team.”
“There are sixteen players on my list and a quarter of them are already problems?” Ace frowns and shakes his list a little.
Before Coach can tell him to nut up, I snatch a marker off the desk and rip Ace’s sheet from his hand. “I’ll take this one.”
I draw a heavy line through Campbell’s name and toss the marker on the table. “We done here?”
Coach nods. “Make sure they know to stay away from my daughter.”
“Of course.” Ace grabs his list of players and shoves it into his back pocket.
That’s when I know Ace is going to be all right during the season, because he doesn’t even flinch. If he can stay stone-faced and in control in front of Coach while secretly nailing the most off-limits girl on a campus of twenty-five thousand, then he’ll do fine as a starter.
I don’t really care who Ace is fucking. There are only a few important things in my life right now, and they start and end with winning the national championship. Ace could fuck a goat if he was into that, so long as he took care of the ball and showed some leadership on the offense.
“What do you think about Campbell?” Ace asks me as we walk toward the Playground, where Ace and I live with the other starters. As one of the team captains, I have a third floor apartment all to myself. Granted, the place is noisy as shit because eight other guys live in the two floors below me, but for the most part, it’s decent. When I need to get away, I put on my headphones and zone out. If I need company, I go downstairs and play a couple rounds of Madden or Call of Duty. It could be worse.
“Good guy. Hard worker. Has good hands. His routes could be shaper. Timing isn’t great with you, but it’s early. All you got to do is score three times.” I slap Ace on the back.
“That’s my objective? Three touchdowns?” he asks in disbelief.
“If we can’t hold every team to a couple of touchdowns this year, we don’t deserve to be in the playoffs, let alone hoist the trophy.” Last year we got lit up by a West Coast team. They scored on us at will and it felt fucking humiliating. I can still feel the sting of that loss today. At the end of that game, I vowed we’d never be caught with our pants down like that again.
“Noted. So what’s your interest in Campbell?”
I shrug. “Figured you had your hands full.”
He raises his chin slightly in disbelief, but doesn’t challenge me. We part ways at the Playground—him to his house and me to mine.
I’m not ready to show my cards yet. The team has a general rule: no sisters because it makes for a messy locker room. Ace screwing Coach’s daughter already meant bad news. But if push comes to shove, I’d lay my claim. There are some things you are born knowing: Treat your mother with respect. Family comes first. Bringing down a quarterback is as close to a religious experience as a boy can get. When you meet the girl who’ll be sitting on the front porch holding your hand when you’re eighty, you don’t let a thing like cool dismissive looks, big brothers, or fucking rules stand in your way.
4
Ellie