“Your team needs work, but you’re good, Zeke. I guess I just thought you’d like to hear that from someone who knows what it feels like to be looked down upon. Bye.”
She turned around, and an unexpected jolt of panic cracked through me. “Wait.”
Quinn turned to face me, and I suddenly found myself without a plan. “Stay.” That sounded desperate. “Watch what a real team practices like.” That sounded mean. I wasn’t sure what feeling I was going for, but I was failing regardless.
“Oh, do show me, football master,” Quinn hissed sarcastically, but she walked past me toward the team bench.
I took a deep breath and tried to shove Quinn as far away from my brain as possible. Why did I stop her when she tried to leave? Why was I suddenly nervous knowing she was watching? I continued to run my team through our typical practice and tried not to be too much of an ass and prove her single insult right. The way my team all stared daggers into me as they shoveled off the field when our practice was over was a good indicator that I had probably failed. I waited until they were all gone before I approached Quinn again. I couldn’t stand her just a few days ago, so why did it all of a sudden make me nervous to go near her?
I walked over and sat down on the bench as far away from Quinn as I could. “So, did you learn something?”
“Yeah,” she replied. “I learned that you’re pretty fucking unfair to your team.”
I looked over at her. “What?”
“You’re militant to them, and so little of what you’re doing reinforces that team mentality that you’re missing. It’s like they all hate you.” I didn’t want to admit that she was right. Most of them did hate me. “You have all the pieces here, but you’re just not putting them together right. You have to focus more on rewarding your team’s strengths rather than punishing their weaknesses. Every gap that’s out there could be filled with someone else, but you’re too busy focusing on trying to make everyone great at everything. Not everyone can be like you.”
I remained silent. She was so right that it was painful. My goal from the start had been to bring my team up to my level rather than finding a level that worked for all of us. I thought about some of the players I used to play with when I was younger. The bigger and stronger ones. If they were never willing to play down, I never would have learned how to play up. Practice was going to change a lot from now on, but I didn’t say it out loud. Maybe it was that I didn’t want to give Quinn the satisfaction, but it felt more like keeping my mouth shut for once was a good way to prove I was internalizing what she said.
After an extended period of silence, Quinn spoke again. “So…you have four older brothers?”
I glanced sideways at her. Were we making small talk now? “Yeah. Adam’s the oldest, then Ezra, Uri, Daniel, then me.”
“Is Zeke short for something?” she asked.
I was getting sick of turning my head back and forth, so I repositioned on the bench so that I had a leg sitting on either side and faced Quinn. “Yeah, Zekeriah.”
Quinn mimicked my actions and turned to face me. “Is it Jewish?”
“Yeah. I’m Jewish. Non-practicing. Daniel and Uri, too, but Ezra and Adam are practicing. Adam’s a minister like my dad.”
Quinn chuckled. “My dad was a pastor.”
“Seriously?”
She nodded. “Yep. Though it was just me and my sister, Honey. Well, until Alec came along.”
“Late baby?” he asked.
“No. He was my best friend in middle school, and then his parents kicked him out because they found him making out with a guy. He still isn’t all that sure what his sexuality is, only that he’s just not straight. My parents took him in, and then right before we started our freshman year, they adopted him.”
I furrowed my brow. “Are you lying? Did you Google my whole life or something?”
“What?” Quinn said with a laugh.
“The reason my brothers and I don’t really follow the religion is because of its stance on homosexuality. My brother, Daniel, he’s not really straight, not really gay. He just…is. My parents didn’t kick him out or anything like that, but things were rough for a while. Daniel and Uri are really close, and Daniel and I are really close, so when things went sour between him and my parents, we sort of stood with him in solidarity, I guess. Things are better now.” I flicked at the splintering wood on the bench. “So, you’re close to your brother, too, then?”
“Yeah, we live together. We have almost everything in common, except he’s not really into football. So, I guess we don’t have that much in common.”
I laughed. “I know what you mean. Danny tries, but he struggles.” Quinn smiled, and it was like my whole world lit up. I couldn’t stare directly at it, or I’d go blind. “I guess I just don’t get it. People and their responses to someone wanting to be with a guy versus a girl. It’s their business. Fuck off.”
“It’s so simple, yet some people have the hardest time with it.” Quinn chuckled. “I remember sitting down with my parents to explain to them what had happened with Alec, and they just, like, didn’t get it. I told them that Alec had been caught with a guy, and they couldn’t get around the fact that he’d snuck out in the first place. When I told them his parents weren’t mad about that part, they didn’t know what else in the story would make them mad.”
I grinned. “That’s awesome. Progressive parents are gonna save the world.”
“No kidding.”
Silence found us again, and I was a little disappointed. I couldn’t think of the last time I sat and legitimately enjoyed conversation with someone. I wasn’t sure what it was about Quinn, but it made me feel like I could continue telling her about my life and hearing about hers and never get sick of it.
“Sorry,” I said finally. “For accusing you of pitying me. And grabbing you before. And purposely trying to embarrass your team. And trying to get you to withdraw yo—”
“Stop,” she said. “It’s okay. I hope you know that I’d never pity you, by the way. There’s no room in football for shit like that.”
I nodded as a smile rose to my face. “Right.”
Quinn took a deep breath and then chuckled. “Well, I’d better get going. I’m still pretty sore from someone’s practice tactics.”
“Oh,” I replied. “Sorry about that, too.”
“I’m not. That was the most fun I think I’ve ever had.”
My heart thumped. “Yeah. Me too.”
Quinn stood up awkwardly. Half-turning and stopping to look back, she finally uttered, “Bye.”
“Bye.” Quinn started off, and I stood up off the bench. “Quinn.”
She looked back at me, and my skin sizzled at the look of hope on her face. I suddenly felt short of breath. What was going on all of a sudden? “Good luck with your next game.”
Smooth, Zeke. Her next game wasn’t until Wednesday.
“Thanks.”
She gave me another brilliant smile before turning around and continuing on off the field and out of sight, leaving me to deal with the rapid beating in my heart and the odd ache that I felt once she was gone.