I regretted it instantly, but it was too late.
Her sound of indignation was fair, followed by, “Excuse me? Of course not.”
“I’m sorry. Look, Darius doesn’t trust you. He’ll tell them what happened if that book’s not back soon. He’s a team captain. I can stall him at least to the end of our rally tonight, but he’s the worst at keeping secrets.” I slid my hand down the door and hung my head. “It’s the biggest game of my life. Kayla, I have to play.”
“I’ll get it to you as soon as I can, I promise, but I’ve spent my whole life wanting to be a Buckeye cheerleader. I can’t lose my spot.”
I’d made tough choices for years to lead me up to tomorrow. Made so many sacrifices. I’d given up friendships, girlfriends, and basically my whole goddamn life. Not playing wasn’t an option.
It was too much pressure, and I cracked under the weight of it. “Because that’s more important than my career. Got it.” I was pissed at the situation and didn’t bother to sugarcoat things. I knew I was lashing out, but couldn’t she understand I was desperate?
I’d swear I could feel her icy look through the phone. The temperature around me plummeted along with her voice. “This isn’t my fault. I shouldn’t have to choose.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” I said softly, “but you do. I told you, football’s not always fair.”
The line was quiet. Kayla didn’t seem to have anything to say. The seconds dragged by as she made me wait to hear her answer. The only sound was the muted bass thumping and occasional laughter from the weight room.
Was she going to give me an answer? Was I a chump for not knowing it right away? Four weeks ago, I’d been worried she’d pick OSU over me. Now I knew it was fact, and it hurt way too much.
“So, that’s it, huh?” I said. “I don’t know why I’m surprised your decision’s not in Michigan’s favor.”
The music got louder like the door to the weight room was open. “Harris!” one of the trainers yelled. “How long is this piss gonna take?”
“I’ve got to go,” I announced. “There’s a lineman I need to put on injured reserve.”
I hung up and threw the stall door open with so much force it slammed into the wall and hung crooked. Over the course of this day, I’d lost my playbook, my chance at a spot in the NFL, and my girlfriend.
It felt like the last one was the hardest hit to take.
-34-
KAYLA
What the hell just happened?
I clutched the blue binder in my hands as if it contained nuclear launch codes and stared blankly at the dashboard. Did Jay realize what he’d asked me to sacrifice? Cheering for Ohio State was everything. Couldn’t he have given me more than two seconds to think about it before hanging up?
I sat in the passenger seat of my dad’s car and felt adrift.
“He says I have to bring it back, or he’s going to get benched.”
My dad didn’t say anything, but I could read his body language. There was tension in his hand on the steering wheel as he continued to drive us home.
“If I miss the parade tonight, there’s no way they’ll let me participate tomorrow.” I squeezed the binder so hard, the edges bit into my fingers. “What do I do?”
He looked deep in thought. “We’ll huddle up with your mom and figure it out.”
Mom was surprised to see me come in with my dad, and she could tell something was wrong just from our expressions. “What’s happened? Are you okay?”
The one advantage of having the playbook in my grip was it distracted me from embarrassment. “My car broke down outside of Toledo this morning. Dad came and got me.”
“Toledo? Why were you there?” She gazed at me like I was crazy, until the realization snapped in place. The disappointment from her was heavy. “Oh. I see.”
“You’re going to want to sit down for this,” Dad said to her.
She looked ill as she sank down into a chair at the kitchen table. “There’s more?”
I laid the playbook down in front of me and sat across from her. The chair creaked as my dad took the one beside me. Had he done it to show me he was on my side? I pressed my hand on top of the binder and wished it didn’t exist.
Tomorrow was supposed to be the day I confronted my new reality, where I’d figure out how the heck I was going to cheer for both my school and my boyfriend in the same game. I wasn’t ready. I needed one more day.
My mom eyed the binder. “What’s that?”
“Michigan’s playbook,” I whispered.
My mother pushed back from the table, acting like it was a bomb that would explode any second. Her frantic gaze went from me, to the book, and back again. I watched all the emotions play out on her face. Shock. Doubt. Cautious interest.
And unexpectedly, anger. “Kayla Elizabeth McCarthy, did you steal this?”
I was a little surprised she went there, and a lot surprised that if I had, she’d be angry about it. Wasn’t an OSU win over Michigan the most important thing?
I shook my head. “No, it was an accident. Jay says I need to bring it back to him tonight, but if I miss my cheerleading commitment, I’ll lose my spot on the squad.” I turned to my dad. “Why did I let you talk me into telling her?”
“You know I’m no good at this emotional, talky stuff. You need to get your mom’s advice.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You mean, on which coach I should give it to first?”
Dad ignored my sarcasm and turned his serious gaze to her. “Is that what you think she should do?”
My mom pressed her fingertips to her lips, then dragged them down to rest at the base of her throat. “It’d probably secure our trip to the National Championship.”
I swallowed so hard, it was painful.
“What about him?” he asked. “You know what it would do to him, right?”
She considered it for a long moment. “It’d end his career.”
Her gaze dropped to the book, and she eyed it almost longingly. But then she frowned at herself and looked at me, her expression serious. “Even though your father and I raised you to be loyal to OSU, maybe borderline fanatical—we didn’t raise you to do something like that.” She sounded worried. “Did we?”
“No,” I admitted. “I love Ohio State. But…” My heart hammered in my chest as the words pressed to get out. “I think I might . . . love him . . . more.”
It stunned her, and in her eyes, I watched the battle wage between the OSU fan and the mother who wanted her daughter to be happy. It was surprisingly short, and ended in my favor. “Well,” she whispered, “that’s”—she struggled over the words—“going to take some getting used to.”
She looked horribly uncomfortable, and my father stared at the tabletop like he’d rather be anywhere else, but I felt lighter. Admitting it to both my parents and myself was freeing.
My mother leaned her elbows on the table. “I know how much cheerleading means to you, but, Kayla, I think you know what you need to do here.”