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OLIVER

A fter taking Maya home, I was on a high. Savannah had seen me walking Maya to the locker room and though she hadn’t seen us kissing, that didn’t matter. And now, not even the thought of starting on my senior project could dampen my spirits. I reached for my laptop, once again clicking on my English assignment. The A grade caused another smile, and Mrs. Shelton’s feedback was all positive. My chest filled with pride, kind of strange because I hadn’t known good grades could bring that sort of satisfaction. It was passing yards, touchdown passes, completions and how much I could bench press that people wanted to know about, where I got my glory.

I opened the handbook on Senior Project requirements, something I was already behind with. I’d already asked for an extension on my submission because of football commitments, but suddenly that two week window had dwindled down to two days and I was no closer to choosing a topic. The Senior Project was supposed to be a passion project, and it could be anything from designing an app, sewing a quilt or creating a podcast. Savannah was doing a video series of makeup and hair tutorials. She’d not offered me any ideas, telling me to do something about football. But football wasn’t my number one passion. Lance had done his project on the impact of AI in the future—all now totally out-of-date, Ryan’s had been a photography exhibit on historic buildings in the district, and George had developed and taught a class on financial literacy. There was no way I could even use their ideas—or want to. None of those things interested me in the slightest.

Taking a sheet of paper, I titled it ‘Brainstorming’ as per the guidelines: Write down all the things you are passionate about. My pen doodled on the page as my mind struggled to think of anything. It would be obvious to write football, but only because that’s what everyone else expected.

Maya.

Her face appeared in my head. No, I couldn’t do my senior project on Maya Shelton, but what had Maya asked me: What does Oliver Blackwell like?

I liked M he would insist I coach tag football. From the corner of my eye, I could see her scribble her name.

She held the paper out to me. “You’ll need to find a mentor.”

“Thanks.” I snatched it out of her hands. “I might ask Matt at the gym. He’s a body builder and knows all about nutrition,” I said.

“Or Penny Adlam is a chef.”

My head jerked back as I glared at Mom, my words outright hostile. “Savannah’s mom?”

“Listen,” Mom soothed. “If you’re creating new recipes, Penny would be fantastic. She’s written several cookbooks, you know.”

It was true, Savannah’s mom had published a book called Comfort Desserts that had done pretty well. But I wasn’t falling for it.

“You just want me to get back with Savannah.” I crossed my arms over my chest in defiance. “Not happening, Mom.”

Mom sighed. “Actually, Ollie, I’m not. But this idea of yours is intriguing. And fabulous. I’d love for you to do well. Penny would be an excellent mentor.”

My throat tightened. Savannah’s mom owned a successful restaurant and her food was delicious. But having to deal with Savannah would be a nightmare, and that would be inescapable if Penny mentored me.

But wait—if Penny Adlam mentored me then I’d cross paths with Savannah more—which meant I’d have to keep dating Maya. And that was a prospect I didn’t mind at all.

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay?” Mom eyed me with suspicion.

“Yeah, can you ask Penny? I really want to do well in this project.”

Mom’s smile beamed brightly and she patted my shoulder. “Sure, Ollie. I’ll ask her.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

And for once, I was keen to get back to my school work. And I couldn’t wait to see Maya again.

I’M THINKING IT WAS desperation that caused Coach Gregor’s superstitions to resurface. Yes, Coach was a creature of routine, but in the final training sessions he became a little crazy. He wanted us to reenact the previous week in every aspect. Every player had to do exactly what he did last week when we got the win against St. Martin’s. If we could replicate the same training, eating and sleeping patterns, we would take the win. Oh yeah, same clothes too.

“Wear your lucky underwear!” He sounded like a madman with his irrational orders. And he was making a lot of kids nervous.

“Mom hasn’t done the laundry this week,” Jon said, to which Coach growled, “Do it yourself then!”

“And I ate nachos last night at my grandma’s house,” Darwin said. “I didn’t do that last week.”

“I missed yesterday’s gym session because I went to the dentist,” Troy bemoaned. “Have I jinxed us?”

“Hey, I’m sure it’s fine,” I said, trying to calm the boys. “I’m sure a pair of boxer shorts isn’t going to lose us the game.”

“I always wear my Spiderman ones,” Darwin said, playfully raising his eyebrows, “they’re my lucky ones.”

“Didn’t need to know that,” I quipped. “Hey, whatever works for you, but just make sure your hands are in good form.”

“You throw it, I’ll catch it,” Darwin said.

“That’s what I wanna hear,” I said, slapping his back. “We don’t need any superstitious babble. It’s not luck that wins the game. It’s skill, hard work, determination.”

“Definitely.” A chorus of boys chimed in. “Absolutely!”

As the team’s offensive captain, I couldn’t let Coach’s bizarre beliefs jeopardize the team’s chances. That nonsense could filter through the team and take away the belief we had in ourselves. Yeah, blaming someone’s underwear or Grandma’s cooking could take away the focus of how we played the game.

On Friday, the whole school was pumped and the pressure was building. I embraced it, but for some it was anxiety inducing, and I sympathized with Hendrix who puked in the locker room before we headed out.

As we loaded our bags onto the bus, I searched around for Maya. I hadn’t seen her since I’d given her a ride home on Tuesday. And that had nothing to do with Coach Gregor trying to make us replicate the previous week. Maya had met up with her friends on Wednesday and on Thursday, her mom had waited for her. I’d texted but it had only been to say hello and ask about training.

Ignoring the call for everyone to jump on the bus, I bustled through the crowd of kids, spotting Maya thankfully standing far away from Savannah. Knowing I didn’t have much time, I strode straight up to her.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” she said, looking a little surprised. Her eyes darted around, like she was nervous or uncertain. “Shouldn’t you be on the bus already?”

“I don’t think they’ll leave without me,” I said with a laugh. “Just wanted to say hi and hope you have fun out there.”

“You too,” she said. “I know you’ll do great.”

“Thanks, it means a lot,” I said, holding out my fist which she bumped lightly. I smiled at her delicate, fairy-like action. “Let’s hope we’ll be celebrating in a few hours.”

“For sure,” she said. “Good luck out there.”

“Hey...” I paused but her mouth was irresistible and I kissed her. I felt an initial hesitation, but then her lips melted against mine and what I intended to be a quick good luck peck turned into more. Turned into Coach Gregor clearing his throat behind me.

“Ahem, Blackwell.”

Maya pulled away with the speed of a cornerback covering a receiver. Not just from the kiss, but she scuttled away and left me to face Coach alone.

“On the bus. Now.” Coach’s head nodded toward the bus.

“Yessir,” I said, but I didn’t move. No, I watched Maya join her friend and head toward the second bus that the cheer and band were traveling on.

“Now, Blackwell,” Coach hollered, probably thinking I was being arrogant, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of Maya, smiling as she backpedaled, being pulled along by Rose.

“A good luck kiss,” I said to Coach. “Can’t begrudge me that.” Coach grumbled something under his breath. “Thought you were all about superstitions,” I countered with a laugh.

Coach shook his head with a deep frown and I jogged ahead to the bus, my heart racing with a perfect combination of excitement from kissing Maya and pre-game nerves.

For all of Coach’s attention to detail, the one thing he couldn’t control was the weather. The drizzling rain had been forecast, but it came earlier than expected. With the slippery ball and unstable footing making it a challenge, we adjusted our game plan. We set up some pretty good run plays, focusing on ball security and minimizing fumbles. It was a low scoring game—but we got there with a 14-7 win.

With the team celebrating, strangely Coach was the calmest I’d ever seen him, like he was in a trance, in disbelief.

“We did it!” I threw up my hand for a high five. “We’re going to the finals!”

Coach dismissed my raised hand and squeezed me in a lung busting hug. “Marvelous performance,” he said, his voice cracking, “marvelous, Blackwell.”

“It was a great game,” I babbled, “team played awesome,” while awkwardly patting his back. This kind of emotion wasn’t one Coach displayed at all.

“We can do it Blackwell. I believe in you. This championship is ours.”

“Must’ve been the good luck kiss, sir,” I said, trying to lighten the moment, fearing he was about to sob on my shoulder.

Coach pulled back and chuckled, of which I was grateful. “You have my permission to kiss her again.”

“Thank you sir,” I said, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. As if I needed his permission!

Freed from his embrace, I scanned the crowd, seeking out Maya. I hadn’t watched any of the cheering, though I was aware of their presence. It was remarkable how they carried on, at one stage wearing clear ponchos with the rain beating down on them. If it was slippery for us, they were also under testing conditions. I hoped no one had fallen or hurt themselves.

After the handshakes and post-game interviews, I pushed my way through, catching a glimpse of Savannah standing under an umbrella. Her hair looked perfect like she hadn’t gotten wet. She took a step toward me, virtually blocking my way.

“Wow! What a game, Ollie,” she said, holding the umbrella higher to shelter me. “You were amazing.”

“Thanks,” I said, and knowing phones were being aimed at us, smiled. “Great effort by the squad. Thanks for the support.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, grabbing my arm with her free hand. “We’re in the finals!”

“Thanks,” I said again. I didn’t want to forcefully withdraw her grip and continued to smile pleasantly. “One to go.”

“It’ll be massive,” Savannah said, and then she cocked her head, baring her too-white teeth. “Ahhh, such a shame Maya won’t be there.”

“What?” I jerked away from her.

“Such a shame she fell. I don’t think it’s broken, but it’s a nasty sprain.”

“What? Where is she?”

“Hey guys, photos please.” A teacher and a kid with a proper camera pushed us together, and Darwin and Adam and several other cheerleaders huddled around us. I was obligated to smile and hold my fingers up in a V sign like everyone else. The school photographer snapped away.

“What happened?” I seethed through clenched teeth while trying to maintain a smile.

“I dunno. She lost control in the pyramid.”

“Why the heck are you doing a pyramid in the rain?”

Savannah huffed out a haughty snort, yet was somehow smiling in the process “It was hardly raining. And besides the other flyers didn’t fall.”

That was it. I disentangled from the arms surrounding me. “Thanks,” I said firmly, signaling to the photographer that I was out of there. I frantically scoped the area, couldn’t see Maya anywhere, but dashed over to Rose.

“Hey, Rose.” Rose’s eyes popped in surprise. “Where’s Maya? Is she okay?”

“Her mom took her to the ER.”

“Was she okay?”

“Her ankle swelled pretty quickly. I really hope it’s not broken.”

“Thanks.” There was essentially nothing I could do until we got back to school. I texted her as soon as we were on the bus, but there was no reply so I had to assume she was having an x-ray or with the doctor.

Fuming, and with the glory of victory marred, I asked around the team to see if anyone had seen the fall. With the intensity of the game and the reduced visibility, no one knew anything about it. I hoped it meant it had been a minor accident and Maya would be okay.

“Hey, you’re really worried about her,” Adam said.

“Yeah. Of course,” I answered more gruffly than intended.

“But I mean you guys have only been on, you know, one date,” he said.

I was quiet, pondering his reply. Yeah, one date. And supposedly she was my fake girlfriend, yet, I was mad with worry.

“Hey, man, we’re in the finals!" Adam reminded me with a thump to my shoulder. “We’re in the freaking finals, man!”

My chest tightened with a heaviness that had nothing to do with the game. And though I joined in with the singing on the ride back, my heart wasn’t in it. The victory seemed insignificant with Maya injured. I needed to see her.

Our arrival back at school was met with plenty of hoopla, Mom and Dad already there with all the other families. “History in the making,” and “Owl’s best team ever,” and “One for the record books” and a host of other wild statements were tossed around, everyone already calling us champions.

But I couldn’t enjoy it. Not knowing where or how Maya was.

“So proud,” Dad said, shaking Coach Gregor’s hand, then Assistant Coach Clarkson’s hand, then the Principal’s. I felt the vibration of my phone in my pocket but I knew better than to check it right at that moment. I suffered through the hobnobbing, waiting for the opportune time to escape. Weirdly, it was Savannah who saved me.

Calling me over, she gestured that we were needed for another photo. I quickly excused myself from the adults.

“It’s for the yearbook,” Reece said, when I protested I’d had photos earlier. She adjusted the lens on her camera. I stood next to Sav, hands clasped in front of me. “Actually, the backdrop is wrong. Let’s go over there.”

I followed Reece to what I thought would be a few feet away from the crowd, but she led me over to the gate and the Snow Ridge High entry sign.

“Okay, here,” she said, posing us beneath it. She stepped back and clicked away, before switching up and taking a few with her phone, all the time Savannah directing me in that bossy way that brought back awful memories. “Closer, Ollie. Look alive. Put your arm here, Ollie. Don’t look so stiff. Remember, we’re champions!”

“Did you hear how Maya is?” I asked, cringing as her arm snaked around my waist.

“Not yet,” she said, her wide smile dazzling to the point of annoyance.

“Why’d you do a pyramid in the rain? Aren’t you captain? Shouldn’t it be safety first?”

“I can’t help it if Maya’s inadequate. It’s not my fault she lost her balance,” Savannah said, tutting as she reached for my chin as if wiping away a crumb. Which was weird because I’d drunk a carton of chocolate milk and eaten a few protein balls, which I’d swallowed whole.

I turned to Reece. “We done here?”

“Um, sure,” she said, “thanks Oliver. These will be great for yearbook.”

I huffed and stormed away, finally taking out my phone. My heart surged as I read the text from Maya: I’m okay, just waiting for x-ray results.

Heading to my car, I dialed her number, surprised that she wasn’t picking up. Unless she was talking to the doctor now. I was in two minds, unsure whether I should drive home to eat before heading to Adam’s house to celebrate, or go to the hospital. I wanted to be with the team, but the lure of seeing Maya was too strong.

The good thing about Snow Ridge was that it was small and going to the hospital, although across town, was only a ten minute drive. I’d check on Maya and then join the team.

I’d been to the ER numerous times, if not for my own injuries then that of my teammates. Spencer had twisted his knee tonight, but he’d iced and braced it, and Jon had reinjured his wrist, but neither of them had been serious enough for a hospital visit.

Striding up to the doors, I broke into a fast walk when I saw Maya and her mother coming down the corridor. Maya was wearing a walking boot and using crutches.

“Maya,” I said. “Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?” Shock was written all over her face. “Were you hurt?”

“What? No, I’m fine,” I said. “I’m here to see if you’re okay.”

“Congratulations! I hear it was a great win,” chimed in Mrs. Shelton.

“Thanks,” I said, turning back to Maya, “I’m so sorry you had a fall. I didn’t find out till after the game.”

“I’ll go bring the car up to the door,” Mrs. Shelton said, nodding at us.

Maya nodded back but didn’t say anything until her mom had left. “You don’t have to be here, you know. You should be with the team.”

“The team can wait,” I said. “I’m your boyfriend...I wanted to check on you. What did the doctor say?”

“ Fake boyfriend,” she clarified with a little giggle. “It’s just a sprain. Nothing’s broken.”

“That’s a relief, but what actually happened?”

“Emily slipped on the field and I landed wrong.”

“Why were you guys even doing a pyramid? In the rain?” It was the same question I’d asked Savannah.

Maya shrugged and she paused and adjusted her crutches. “I wish I hadn’t missed the game.”

“I wish you hadn’t either,” I said, standing aside to let her through the automatic opening door. “How long do you have to wear the boot?”

“At least two weeks,” she said, and there was genuine regret in her voice. “I’ll miss the final.”

We stopped on the curb and I gently touched her shoulder. “But you’ll still be there, right?”

“Of course,” she said. “Hey, you should go be with the team.”

“Yeah.”

A small blue hatchback slowed and I was a little surprised by Mrs. Shelton’s choice of car. It looked like a typical high school girl’s car. I opened the passenger door and taking her crutches, I steadied her.

“Hey, take it easy,” I whispered, bending to kiss her softly on the lips. For the second time, Maya looked shocked, and I murmured, “Boyfriend stuff. Your mom’s watching.”

But as I said, “Call you later,” and closed her door, the tingle lingering on my lips revealed one thing—I might be her fake boyfriend but there was nothing fake about our kisses.