The bell rang for lunch, and after getting my slice of cardboard pizza and iced tea, I made my way over to where Layla and Blake sat in the back corner of the cafeteria. As soon as my rear-end touched the seat, both of them stared at me as if their eyes could drill right through me. I peered back, wondering what they were thinking, a few guesses tumbling around in my head. After enduring an hour of mind-numbing calculus, and not to mention still being in shock by the loss of a teammate, I wasn't up for playing games. Although I had known Austin Campbell, and played football with him, I would not consider him a close friend. But I saw him every day at school, and now with him gone, I found myself experiencing the profound impact his death could have on my psyche, like a lead weight pressing down on my thoughts. From Blake and Layla's tense gazes, I suspected they were on the same page as me.

My chin dropped. "What is it?"

"Well," Blake replied. "Other than what happened Saturday night, we saw you in the hall with the coach after the assembly."

"Yeah," Layla said. "He didn't look happy."

I arched a brow. "Would you be if you were in his shoes?"

"I guess not, but after that inspiring speech, you'd think he wouldn't take out his frustrations on you. The backup."

"It wasn't anything like that. He just wants to see me before practice."

"It makes sense," Blake said. "You're the next man up in the QB rotation. Finn's a sophomore, he's nowhere close to ready. Besides, he throws a weak slant pass."

"He's right." Layla half-smiled, tucking those same strands of loose hair behind her left ear. "You're a senior. You've put in your time."

"Probably wants to make sure you're sharp on all the audibles. If you remember last practice, you missed a few."

"It's something like that," I said. "Basically, he wants to help me take my game up a notch or two." I sink my teeth into my pizza, savoring the lack of flavor and swallowing the bite, my thoughts circling back to the reason for the assembly in the auditorium this morning. "What about Austin? The rumors?"

Blake stared at his tray for a long moment and then looked up. "I heard he was out there on the bluff drinking. Had one too many and was fooling around on the edge, slipped... and went smack."

"That's not what I heard." Layla shrugged, an obvious nervous lump sliding down her throat. "Koby said they were hanging out in front of the Walmart parking lot, chatting up Friday night's win, and out of the blue, Austin said he wasn't feeling well and had to go. Koby said he wasn't drinking. None of them were."

"So," I huffed, "he just left? Said he was going to go jump off a cliff?"

"No." She shook her head. "Koby said he told them he was going home."

"I said what?" a gruff voice replied from behind me. Koby Sanders towered over me, holding his tray above me. He played center on the offensive line; someone I would be taking snaps from pretty soon, like at today's practice.

"We were talking about Austin," I said.

"If you know what's best for you, you'll keep his name out of your mouth." His tone sharpened and his brows pinched like he meant business.

"We're just asking the same questions everyone is asking," Layla said. "Like why Coach Steele isn't canceling practice, at least until after the funeral. And how long was Lexa with him after he left Saturday night? She left with him, right?"

"Yup, they left after hanging out with us. She said he dropped her off at her house and left. She thought he was going home but guess he didn't." His eyes grew more serious. "As for practice, we have a game this Friday. No one person is greater than the team."

"But he was a person, and he died."

Koby stared at Blake as if he had finished talking to Layla. "Why do you hang with them, anyway? You could sit with us." He nodded toward a table in the middle of the lunchroom, congregated by a select group of football stars from the offense and defense. "Oh, that's right, you didn't want to be a part of the coach's inner circle, did ya?"

"I don't have time to stay after practice because I have a part-time job most nights," Blake replied. "Besides, when the coach suggested I stay late for his special fitness program, I didn't get the right vibes. And the reason I sit with them is because they're my friends."

"Suit yourself." Koby scowled. "Just watch what you say about Austin. He was one of us." With that, the big guy moved on and sat with his clique of friends, not looking back.

"That was intense." I let out a breath, glaring back at Koby and the other starters. They were lean and mean. Even the bigger guys on the offensive line had ripped muscles and appeared like they didn't have an ounce of fat on their bodies. Now that I thought about it, I remembered all of them entering the coach's office before every practice and also before games every Friday. No one else but the guys at that table. The entire offensive line. Casper Jones, the stud running back. Elijah Ray, the bruising middle linebacker. And Ryan Dawson, the lockdown cornerback who led the team in interceptions. "Do y'all think they know something about Austin's death they're not telling us?"

Blake widened his eyes. "They know something, alright."

When I glanced at Layla, she looked uncertain.

"I don't think you need to be a starter," she said. "I like you the way you are."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Just that... I don't know." She winced, tilting her chin at me. "You're nice and they're not."

I smirked at her, as if that was a stupid thing to say. "Okay."

"So," Blake said. "Austin was hanging with the other meat heads, and Lexa, then left with her with little explanation, and then after dropping her off at her house, somehow found himself on Old Man's Bluff, by himself, where he slipped on a rock, fell off the mountainside and bit the big one?"

"In a roundabout sort of way," Layla replied. "That's what I heard Koby telling someone this morning as we were entering the auditorium. I mean, he's a big guy. I don't think he even saw me behind the other players."

I frowned, pondering what I had learned. "And when he dropped Lexa off, he told her he was going home. But he didn't. And I still don't know why coach isn't canceling today's practice out of respect."

Blake snorted. "You heard Koby. We have a game this Friday."

"Yeah," I said, feeling deflated. "We do."

After our conversation wound down and we grew quiet with our thoughts, I took a few minutes to finish my pizza and wash it down with tea. As I sat there, my mind took a sarcastic turn. An upcoming game was a fantastic reason to forge ahead, business as usual. Forget that someone died, we had to keep our priorities in order. I gnawed on my bottom lip. Who were these people? Didn't they have a heart? I guess not when there was a win streak to keep alive.

After parting with Blake and Layla, I walked my tray up to the window opening, where a lunchroom worker grabbed it and started cleaning it. That's when I saw a lady nearby struggling, trying to pull a cram-packed garbage bag out of one of the trash cans. Without thinking, I rushed up to her.

"I can get that for you."

"You're so sweet, hun," she said. "Thank you so much."

I heaved the bag out of the container and tied it up for her. "I'll take it to the dumpster, don't worry."

As I turned, I glanced up and saw Layla looking my way. No, check that. She was staring at me and no one else. She smiled shyly and nodded at me, hesitated for a few seconds as if making a mental note, then she pushed through the doors to catch up to a couple of her friends. I couldn't explain it but having her see me with the trash bag hoisted over my shoulder, helping the lunchroom worker, gave me a warm feeling on the inside. I couldn't put my finger on it. Was it embarrassment or something else? I didn't do it for attention, like helping that elderly man the other day at the grocery store carry his bags to his car. I did it because I wanted to help. I couldn't stand there and watch someone struggle.

After slinging the trash bag into the dumpster, and after the rest of my classes, including English, I put my books up, closed my locker, and then slipped through the halls alone. I knew everyone else would use the entire time between periods to get whatever books they needed and linger in the halls until the last second before the bell rang, but I made a beeline for the side door so I could get to the football field house for my meeting with the coach. But the closer I got to the building under the overcast skies, I slowed, pondering what Coach Steele was going to say to me.

As I was thinking about that topic, I glanced behind me and noticed Koby and the coach's so-called core group of players. Under the covered walkway, a few of them wore their letterman's jackets and sunglasses. It was Casper, Elijah, and Ryan. The other players showed their bare arms in T-shirts, biceps bulging from the short sleeves.

As I took notice, I realized those three players: Casper, Elijah, and Ryan wore the same thing almost every day. Shades and jackets, as if they were the toughest, baddest dudes in town. Come to think of it, they had dark visors on their football helmets, and also wore long sleeves during practice. It was all about the drip for those guys, doing anything they could do to look good for the cheerleaders or to intimidate the competition. Just like the superstar quarterback, Xavier Rhodes did when he was at Pineville.

I shook my head as I entered the field house, knowing I only played for the love of the game. Now, recent events had positioned me to get bumped up to a starter. My meeting with the coach could make or break me. His office was in the back of the building, past the lockers and the weight room. As I drew near to the frosted-glass door labeled COACH STEELE, my steps slowed, and my heart rate increased. Maybe it was the coach's tone of voice and intense glare from this morning that had me feeling like my feet were sinking in quicksand. Hopefully, it wasn't the doubt in his voice when he mentioned discussing what it would take to elevate my game to the next level. He might think my game doesn't have a next level. As I raised my knuckles to knock on the door, my heart went from a worried thump to a pounding kick drum. I was about to find out what this meeting was all about, and that left me with an ominous feeling, as if I were walking into the lair of a monster who ate second-string quarterbacks for lunch.

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Chapter 2: 1,885 Words

Story: 3,560 Words