Playing The Game

Austin's Injury

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*

I watch in horror as Austin, my best friend, takes yet another sack.

"Oh, come on!" I yell, throwing down my pom-poms in sheer aggression. "Michael, get your head in the game and don't let him pass you!"

"Av, relax, its a game." Hailey scolds me.

I check myself and realize I was completely out of line, acting like one of the wild men in the crowd. Ladies don't yell, nor do they care about a stupid high school football game. I sigh and readjust my ponytail, making sure no stray blonde hairs stand up. Always have to appear presentable and put together, no exceptions.

"Ready, okay!" I then lead my cheerleaders in a cheer about not keeping us down. Ignoring the drunk catcalls from the audience.

Those are normal. Pretty little teenagers exposing their navel and bouncing around in a miniskirt. I tried getting the uniforms that cover more, but the other girls insist on less. You'd think as their captain, they would listen to me. To which they do, occasionally, if it doesn't interfere with them looking like scarlet ladies. We came to the unhappy agreement of long sleeved tops that gave sight to our tummies pared with a not modest skirt that has a slit on the right thigh.

When my mother first laid her judgmental eyes on me in the uniform, she didn't yell at me to go to my room and put on actual clothes. Instead she smiled like a cat who found her dinner and said, "That'll do."

I see as the crowd leaps to their feet in excitement, quickly I turn.

Austin gears up to throw the ball, but none of the receivers are open.

Somehow he doesn't notice this. If he throws the ball, a Panther has a chance to pick it.

"No! Run it! Run!" I shout at the top of my lungs.

Above all the ruckus, he heard me. With a slight crook of his neck, Austin is staring at me from behind the colorful visor on his helmet. I scream at him what he needs to do. Tucking the ball safe into his arms, Austin powers through the bodies of the sweaty players.

Thirty yards... twenty... ten... five... he scores!

Devin, our kicker, made the simple shot into the goal posts.

"And the Knights lead 21-14" Mr. Wilson, the commentator announces. A known horn blared, "That's half time."

The smelly jocks made their way to the locker room, Austin pulls me aside, "Avery, you need to stop saving my ass and walk on that field yourself."

"You know I can't."

"You play better than me any day, since we were kids. So what if you're a girl? So what if your mom might loose her hair? You deserve to."

I sigh indignantly, "My dad would-"

"See what a ass kicker his baby girl is."

"Yo, Austin, you coming or what?" Ty hollers.

"Go." I nudge him.

He throws me a glance of pure stubbornness, "This isn't over."

I didn't expect it to be.