The lovers finally collapsed on their backs in pools of sweat.
Serge wiped stinging perspiration from his eyes. “My compliments to the chef.”
“I’m still fluttering,” said Cheyenne. “And speaking of fluttering, what was that deal with your eyelids and your pupils going up in your head?”
“I had a simultaneous.”
“Don’t you mean we had a simultaneous?”
Serge shook his head. “Just me. I came and had A Moment. Thinking about all the murals in town and early telephone service.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“You’d rather me think about old girlfriends, or picture you wearing a walrus mask?”
“I’m not sure.” She turned her head on the pillow. “Let’s find out.”
“Serious?”
She nodded eagerly.
“Where’s your cowboy hat?”
“In the office.” Cheyenne jumped out of bed. “I’ll go get it.”
She wiggled into her blue jeans and opened the door. A truck with a full rack of amber lights was pulling up. “What the hell is that?”
“Ordered a rental fishing boat,” said Serge. “They attach a temporary hitch on your car and everything. I always figure if you’re going in, go big!”
“If you say so.”
“Just realized something,” said Serge. “What if other guests are trying to call you at the front desk with an emergency?”
“Screw ’em. They’re just frogs.”
Chapter 29
Pahokee
The Blue Devils were an early-season favorite, and they lived up to the hype. Pahokee tore through their district schedule, undefeated after six games. And it wasn’t even close. All double-digit victories. You could always pick out the loudest voice on the bench shouting encouragement. Guess who?
A few weeks earlier, before a game, Coach Calhoun was smiling behind his desk as Chris sat on the other side. He actually looked forward to her visits now, and felt something conspicuously missing on the days she didn’t show up.
She was wearing her shoulder pads and game jersey: 00. He noticed she was unusually serious.
“Is something wrong?”
“Oh, no, no, no,” said Chris. “It’s just that I feel awkward asking you for something.”
“Never stopped you before.”
“But you’ve done so many favors for me in the last few years.”
“What’s one more? Fire away.”
“But I promised you.”
“Promised me what?”
“That I didn’t care if I never got on the field,” said Chris. “I just wanted to wear the uniform.”
“And?”
“I learned that to earn a varsity letter, you have to be in at least one play during a regular-season game.”
“Is that so?”
“Coach, in several of these games we’ve had big leads late in the fourth quarter.”
“Some actually huge.”
“What I’m asking is, if we’re leading by several touchdowns near the end and we score, uh—”
“You’d like to kick off?”
She nodded.
“All right, you’ve asked,” said Calhoun. “We’ll just see how it goes. Now, if I could have the office, there’s a few things that need dealing with before tonight.”
That evening’s game proceeded like the previous six Fridays. The Blue Devils built up an early lead, and the defense held their opponent to only three first downs. By the beginning of the fourth quarter, it was 35–0. It was raining.
Calhoun walked over to the head coach for a private talk. By the body language, it seemed that Lamar had to be persistent. Finally, and in no small part simply in order to get Calhoun off his back, the head coach said: “We’ll just have to see.”
Rain poured harder and the field began turning to mud. Runners lost their footing and passes were impossible to catch. Referees had towels on the field to wipe the ball down between each snap.
It was time to call running plays from here on out. Not to move the ball, but to burn the clock. It was also one of those unwritten rules of football decorum. Don’t pass and run up the score at the end. That’s why the entire team on the field was second and third string. And even then, Pahokee was unstoppable. They consistently moved the ball five to ten yards a play. They entered the red zone, which means the twenty. Three minutes left.
Lamar Calhoun finished another chat with the head coach and walked back over to the players’ bench. “Chris?”
She was leaning forward, wrapped up in the game and still shouting encouragement. She raised her eyes. “Yes, Coach?”
“Start warming up.”
It froze her.
“Did you hear me?”
An eager nod. She sprang off the bench and began running toward the practice kicking net.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Calhoun pointed back under the bench. “You’re going to need that.”
Chris raced back and snatched her helmet.
Pahokee scored again even faster than expected. Chris barely had time to stretch, no practice kicks. She ran onto the field with ten boys as the rain whipped even harder. Some of her teammates raced past her, slapping her shoulder pads. “Show ’em what you got, Chris.”
As she teed up the ball, shouting came from the opposite sidelines. The other coach frantically waved his clipboard at his receiving team. They had just realized a girl was kicking. “Move up! Move up!”
The visiting team advanced ten yards.
The clipboard kept waving. “More!”
The players positioned themselves fifteen yards ahead of where they normally fielded a kick.
Chris stared down at the ball and took a few steps back. Thunder boomed from the clouds over the stadium lights. She looked left and right down the Blue Devil line. Boys nodded back, helmets dripping. The referee blew a whistle for play to resume. Chris ran forward and put her shoe into the leather.
Now here’s the thing about kickoffs: they’re live balls. Which means that after it travels ten yards, either team can grab it for possession.
It was an exceptionally high kick, which, along with the rain, threw off the receiving team’s depth perception. They began slowly backpedaling. Meanwhile, the Pahokee line was sprinting full speed. By the time the visiting team realized the ball was seriously over their heads, all the players were at roughly the same spot on the field.
The ball bounced at the two-yard line and rolled into the end zone. Now it was a full-out race to see who could get there first. A player in a blue jersey leaped horizontally and landed on the ball just before it rolled out of bounds. The referee raised two arms straight into the air.
Touchdown.
The home crowd exploded.
All eyes were on the end zone. They didn’t notice it at first. But back toward the other end of the field, whistles were blowing and numerous yellow flags had flown.
Pahokee wasn’t trying to run up the score. But the other team felt they had done something far more insulting to rub their opponent’s noses in it. They’d sent in a girl.
So here’s what happened when the play began. The forward players of the receiving team usually begin moving back to set up their blocks. This time, however, the two players in the middle ran forward as fast as they could. The game was so unwinnable that penalties didn’t matter anymore.