I didn’t hang around because if I did, I’d end up getting lost in the fun. I still had my own practice to prepare for, so I left MontRec’s personal football field, designed and painfully painted by me, and headed back into the center.
Most of the Widows’ practice gear would already be outside from Jansen’s class, but the really important stuff—our regulation footballs, jerseys, and pads—I kept locked in my office. Not only were they among some of the most expensive things in MontRec, but they were also the most important to me. I entered my office, unlocked the closet, and started to pull everything out.
“Coach.”
“Jesus.” I jumped and hit my head on the rod that fed through the closet and had the jerseys hanging off of it. I turned around, and there was a body in the chair that I kept opposite my desk. “Lila.”
Lila Skeddit was one of our team’s tackles. She was a hundred and eighty pounds of pure muscle. She stood at an impressive six-foot-two and had her head shaved on both sides and in the back, leaving just a single tuft of medium-length black hair flowing down in a mohawk tail hairstyle. She was the only one of the Widows that I had gone to high school with, and though we hadn’t played football together back then, she followed my lead when she entered college and demanded her team allow her to try out. One look at the way she nearly separated a guy’s torso from his legs, and they offered her a full-ride scholarship. She became one of the starting tackles for that team. She was a monster on the field, but it was as if she’d sacrificed basic social skills to become such an elite player. She was short, brash, and assertive. Lila believed that anything a man did could be done twice as well by a woman. She didn’t talk to men, she didn’t date men, and she didn’t like men. In short, Lila was a nega-feminist.
“How are you?” I greeted. I continued pulling things out of the closet, and though I hadn’t directed her to grab anything, specifically, Lila stood up and got the footballs and one of the barrels of pads.
“Will practice end on time today?” she asked, totally ignoring my conversation starter.
“Yes.” I took the hangers that the jerseys hung on and looped them onto my arm, grabbed the other barrel of pads, and led the way out of my office.
“It didn’t on Monday.” She stepped out of the way so I could lock my door but not so far away that I wouldn’t be forced to deal with her issue. “I have to be home by seven.”
“You will be home by seven, Lila. Some of us want to catch the Vipers’ game, too, so we’ll be done by six-thirty, for sure.”
We detoured past the receptionist’s desk so that I could leave the keys for the receptionist to lock the building. I could let myself back in to put stuff away after practice and didn’t want the building unlocked while no one was inside to keep an eye on the place.
I led the way back out to the field just as the girls were cleaning up. A few of the other Widows had gathered already and were waiting for the high-schoolers to clear out so we could get our own practice started.
There were eleven of us in total. It was just enough to play football legally, but most of us had to double-up on offense and defense, and we were permanently short a running back. I was the captain and the quarterback. It’d been a point of contention between me and Lila, who felt she had the stature to fit the position more, but it was the position I was practiced in and the one I’d spent years mastering. I very rarely pulled this-is-my-team rank, but I had to about my position to get Lila to let it go.
Jansen was one of our wide receivers, along with another woman, Beck, who you’d miss if you blinked. She was five-foot even and had well earned the name, Speed of Light Beck. Jansen was fast, but Beck could run laps around her like a cartoon character running to the finish line and back before their opponent had ever made it down the first leg.
Our center was Kris, and she was also the one I was closest with on the team. She had dark brown skin and black dreadlocks. She was a Montpelier native, as well, but had been homeschooled. She nearly broke the rec center doors down when I posted the ad for the team. She was a good center, both physically and mentally. She could rally us with just a few words, and even Lila tended to bend to her will. Kris was the only one who could elicit that response out of Lila.
Jazz and Lila were our tackles and our blockers. Lila was stacked, and Jazz was a crossfit champion with an insane center of gravity. When she steeled herself to take a hit, it was almost impossible to take her off her feet. Mala was interchangeable with them, although she was always our offensive guard. Jazz and Lila had been best friends since elementary school and had a sixth-sense with one another. Their ability to predict an opponent’s play had saved us more than once.
Gria and Hollie were our running backs. They were utility members who could do almost anything on the field. They’d joined the team with no particular position in mind and fell into the running back position because their slight height and heft gave them an advantage.
Georgia and Maxine rounded out our team as the tight-ends. They preferred their short-hand names, George and Max, and were closest to Lila, as she’d brought them with her from her college team. Though they didn’t cause half the trouble she did, when they got together, they could wind each other up until I had to shut down practice while they debated over which female journalist would do a better job than Anderson Cooper. I kept them away from one another as much as I could, but down-times always had them huddling together, and once they were off on some tangent, they were difficult to drag back.
Were my Black Widows the toughest team in the country? Not by a long shot. Could they scrap with the best of them? Ask all the faces we’d put in the dirt.
“Quinn!” Kris threw her hand in the air. “Double-football Wednesdays!”
I pumped my fist in the air. “Yeah!”
Hollie bounded over, her bob cut flipping all around her head. “Is Alec on tonight?”
“Of course.” I set the barrels of pads down and held out the arm I had all the jerseys hooked on as Hollie and Kris flipped through them.
Lila set the things she was carrying down and walked over to my arm, as well.
“Hey, Lila,” Hollie greeted.
Lila didn’t respond, and Hollie didn’t try again. The team was used to her attitude now. They all pulled their jerseys free and moved over to collect some pads. I’d love to get my ladies their own pads someday, but our resources were limited, so we had to share. I had enough sets for everyone, but they weren’t specified to any particular player and were just about the right size to fit everyone. Some of the ladies, like Jansen and Beck, were always swimming in whatever pads they ended up with, but they were troopers and made it work.
Once the high-schoolers had cleared out and the entire team was present, we suited up for practice. The adrenaline I felt when I was about to go on the field, even for practice, was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. They say that nothing feels quite like true love, and if that was true, football was my one and only.
2
Quinn
“That was stupid,” I growled at Jansen as I set a piece of gauze on her cheek to catch some of the blood that was pouring out. “I’ve made it very clear that I don’t want anyone going toe-to-toe with Lila.”