The Big Time

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

THEY RODE FOR TEN minutes in Seth's H2 before Troy realized that Nathan wasn't talking to him.

"What's up with that?" Troy asked.

Nathan had his forehead pressed against his window, huffing on the glass and making squeaky designs.

He made a quick star, then said, "Are you really going to abandon us after this game? Sheesh. Some friend."

"Hey," Tate said, "you big meathead. Instead of moping like that, why don't you pump yourself up? So, it's our last game together. Let's not cry about it. Let's win this thing!"

"You wouldn't understand," Nathan said, waving his hand at her. "You're a girl."

"Cut it out, goofball," Tate said. "I mean it. Don't ruin this. Let's go play. Let's have fun. Let's win this."

Seth cleared his throat and said, "Tate's right, Nathan. In football, you never know which game is going to be your last. Look at me."

Troy hung his head.

"No," Seth said to him, messing up his hair, "don't you get down. I didn't mean it like that, Troy. It's just the way it is. You never get to play this game as long as you want. It always ends too soon, and every year, if you are lucky enough to make it, your team changes. Something always changes. That's life. You keep moving."

"Like a shark, right?" Troy said dully, his eyes watching the trees go by.

"What?" Seth said.

"Nothing," Troy said.

"Come on, you three," Seth said. "If nothing else, win this thing for me, will you? I'd like to get a coaching job out of this. Maybe the playing part is over for me, but I'm not leaving this game-not ever, if I can help it."

"Of course we'll win it for you," Tate said. "You made us state champs. You helped Troy, and it looks like he's going to get rich from it. Besides, I want that scholarship money."

Seth laughed at her.

Nathan sighed and said, "I just can't believe this is it for us."

"Who knows, Nathan?" Troy said. "Maybe you and I will play in college together. Georgia Bulldogs?"

Troy turned around and saw Nathan break out into a grin and swipe a hand over his brush cut. "Sheesh, now we're talking."

"And maybe I'll play soccer there," Tate said.

Everyone went silent. Troy looked over the seat at her. She smiled at him.

"But, Tate," he said, "you're a football player-not just a kicker, a real football player. Remember that tackle you made on the kickoff against Dunwoody? You helped win that game."

Tate blushed, looked down at her hands, and said, "I know, but next year it's not junior league anymore; it's the middle school team."

"Some girls play in high school," Troy said. "There's that girl over in Roswell named Bridget Kennicott who's so tough they call her the Tornado."

"But not after that," Tate said. "Even the Tornado won't play in college."

"You could be the first, Tate," Troy said.

"But I could get a full ride as a soccer player," she said, "if I work at it. I'm fast and I'm strong."

"And you got a mean leg," Nathan said.

"And that," she said.

"And tough," Troy said.

"Thank you," Tate said. "So, this really is the last game for us. Let's win it."

Tate held out a hand in the air between them all. Nathan put his hand on top of Tate's, and Troy reached back over the seat to cover them both.

"Win it, on three," Troy said.

"One, two, three, WIN IT!"