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I drum my fingers over the wall in front of us that leads down to the sidelines where the Bulldogs’ defense is currently being instructed by their coach. “He will, but I need your help.”
“What canIdo? He doesn’t even know I exist.”
I chuckle into my hand. “Well, I was hoping you might have a marker like you used to make one of your signs, and then I was going to ask if I can write on the back.”
She peers at the blank side of her sign. “You can, but I don’t have a marker.”
I groan inwardly.
The girl, however, takes action right away. She turns, facing the rest of the crowd. I nearly get a head rush at the dizzying number of people behind us. “I need a marker. Does anyone have a marker?”
Some people shake their heads, but others start asking people next to them and behind them. Soon, there’s a bit of a buzz. Butterflies dance around my insides. People stare down at me and the girl, but I look on hopefully.
“I do!” someone shouts. They produce a marker, holding it into the air.
The girl next to me takes action again. “Throw it!”
The guy looks around, but shrugs, tossing the marker our way. I reach out, and by some miracle, I actually catch it.
“Hurry,” the girl shouts as I pop the cap off. She hands me her poster. “There’s only one minute left!”
Goodness, this girl is not good for my nerves.
I don’t even have time to think about what I’m going to say, I just start to write.
I write from the heart. I write what I want him to know: I’m still here. I’m still fighting for us. I won’t be his dad. Or his mom. Or anyone else who’s let him down.
“You don’t need to write a book,” the girl scolds.
I laugh, the sound coming out squeaky.
When I finish, I stand back. “Oh,” she says. “Ohhhh.”
I look at her, and she nods at me. Lord help me, but she gives me the confidence I need to hold the sign up high.
I take a deep breath, closing my eyes briefly before reminding myself that if I’m all the things West thinks I am, then I can do this. I can be brave. I can be a fighter…even when everyone else is looking at me. I own everything about myself, especially the hard parts.
West
“Let’s go!”I roar as I run the football in for a touchdown seconds before the end of the half. The crowd goes nuts. Royal-blue-and-white poms wave in the air. Cow bells are highlighted by the answering cheers from spectators.
Tied going into halftime. We have a chance. We have a really good chance.
Aidan runs toward me, and we both lift into the air to chest bump each other before falling back to our feet. He grabs my face guard and gets in my face. “That’s what I’m talking about, brother.”
I knock him in the helmet, and then we run toward the ramp to take us back down to the locker room for halftime.
Energy races through me. I can already feel that we’re going to dominate the second half. We’re going to blow Hamilton away, give them what they deserve.
A few fans call my name, but I ignore them to keep my head in the game, still reassured by Aidan’s words that Kenna will be there waiting.
And she is watching. She’s here again. Even when I broke it off with her, she still showed up.
God, this girl.
“West, West, West!” a chant starts out. I wave my hand in the air in acknowledgment.
Aidan elbows me. “Shit, dude.”