A tremble ran through me out of fear the coach would actually answer the door, my hand freezing mid-air, knuckles inches from knocking on the frosted glass. I had played for this guy since my sophomore year, so I should know him, but he had never listed me as anything more than third string until my senior year. If I wasn't a starter by now, that meant I didn't have what it took to lead the team. Of course, now he didn't have a choice other than Finn, the tenth grader, meaning the coach had to perform a miracle on the backup quarterback, the less than stellar Evan Mack.

Me.

"You gonna knock on that door or not?" the edgy-toned voice of Elijah Ray asked, the middle linebacker, otherwise known as Bruiser, by the rest of the defensive squad.

I faced him and did some awkward gestures because I didn't know what to do with my hands. My finger pointed left and then right, and then, to rectify the situation, my thumb jabbed back at the coach's door behind me. Hoping I didn't look like an idiot, I nodded, trying to act calm. "Who me? Yeah. I was about to."

"Yeah," Elijah said, a chilled rasp dragging out in his voice as he eyed me with a sidelong glance. "You get to be a starter; I'll miss sacking you in practice. Have to take my anger out on Skinny Boy Finn."

"That's good, right?"

"For you." He grinned, huffed. "Relax, man. The coach is just gonna have a little pep talk with you. Bring you up to speed." He slapped me on the shoulder. "Your feet could use an extra gear, and your passes could use an accuracy tune up, so Blake doesn't have to do all the work trying to catch your lame duck throws. Feel me?"

I nodded.

His eyes grew serious. "No cap."

I think 'cap' meant 'lie', so 'no cap' meant 'no lie'. "Got it," I replied.

He turned, heading toward the locker room, but stopped and spun back to me. "One more thing." He paused for a long moment, staring at me. "Don't forget to say yes to what the coach offers. If you don't, it won't be good. For you." He pointed at me.

With that, he disappeared around the corner.

I blew out a nervous breath and swallowed. Felt a chill sweep over me, gooseflesh rising over my forearms. Seeing I was the backup QB, I had gone up against the first-string defense every practice for the last three years. I had felt the power behind Elijah's shoulder pads, his reckless intensity when he pursued the quarterback and levied a sack. His speed had an extra gear, unlike mine, fast enough to run me down with little effort. Many times, I would run out of bounds if I could, or slide to my knees to avoid a devastating hit. Poor Skinny Boy Finn.

After another quick breath to steady my nerves, I turned to face the coach's door.

I could do this.

This time I didn't hesitate, giving the frosted window a firm knock. For a few seconds, nothing happened, but then, just when I was about to rap on the glass again, I heard the oil-deprived squeak of his leather chair. I waited, expecting to hear his shoes hit the floor, but silence filled the air.

Several moments passed. Then...

"Come in," the coach said.

I ignored my building anxiety, placed a hand on the knob, and opened the door.

Coach Steele stood behind his desk, arms folded, looking down his nose at me. He nodded toward a chair across from him. "Sit down. We need to talk."

"Yes, sir." I eased into the seat, my gaze never leaving his.

After clucking his tongue on the roof of his mouth for a few unnerving seconds, he dropped into his chair and leaned back, steepling his fingers, each digit spread apart as he looked at me. Behind him, he had the blinds closed on a large window, which I remember had a dark tint, shading his office from the glare of the evening sun. When he finally spoke, his voice came out tight and serious, like hardened flint, ready to sharpen a blade or shatter it.

"We're not talking about Austin Campbell," he said. "He's gone."

I wanted to scoot up in my seat, but I couldn't bring myself to get any closer to him. I also wanted to say 'okay' but I couldn't make my mouth form the word. So, I just stared back, trying to keep my leg from shaking.

"Of course," he continued, "we'll mourn his loss at the funeral. There's a time and place for that, but today, right now, it's all about the next game." He cut his eyes to me, still holding his fingers in the steeple gesture. "I need a quarterback, and that person is you."

"Okay," I croaked out, the sound of my voice surprising me. I was happy to hear his declaration, but also shocked he could move past Austin's death so easily.

"But your delivery lacks a lot to be desired and your stance is all wrong. Most of the time you forget to set your feet, which means you're not throwing from a solid base. But that's the least of your problems." Coach Steele sat upright and angled his chair to face me, planted his elbows on his oversized desk and said, "Look behind you."

I twisted in my seat.

"What do you see?"

"Your trophy case."

"But what about it stands out the most to you?"

"It's full." I turned back to him.

"And?"

"Well... there are three state championship trophies from Central High. That's not counting the two you have here at Pineville."

"That's right. Do you notice anything about those three titles I won at Central?"

"They were three-in-a-row."

"You get a touchdown for your keen observation skills." He tilted his head and glared at me, sizing me up. "We have won two-in-a-row here at Pineville."

"I was on both of those teams."

"You did a great job keeping the bench warm on the sideline," he replied. "Now, who do we play this Friday night?"

"The Central Red Devils."

"For the area championship, which will clinch a playoff berth for us and home field advantage in the first two rounds, at least." He leaned closer. "That means there's a lot on the line when we play my former team. A lot riding on your shoulders, your throwing stance, and your arm. Even your legs."

I could only nod, barely able to breathe, much less speak.

"Your passing mechanics can improve through coaching and practice, but your natural ability has its limits." His expression turned as hard as the tone of his gravelly voice. "If you think for one minute, I'm putting you out there on that field Friday night unprepared; you have another thing coming. I'll make you the starter, but first, I need a commitment from you."

I found my voice. "I'll do whatever it takes to get better. Honestly, coach, I never dreamed I'd get the chance. I wanted nothing to happen to Austin but—"

"Save it. He's gone. Be where your feet are."

"What do I need to do to get better?"

The coach smiled, but his eyes remained as dark as ever. "I thought you'd never ask." He leaned back in his squeaking chair and steepled his fingers again. "That brings us to my fitness program. To take part in it requires commitment and dedication. The other players aren't aware of everything that goes into being a core member of the team. But guys like Koby, Casper, and Elijah do, to name a few. Remember Xavier Rhodes? Yeah? Good. He took part in my program too and look where he's at today."

"State U."

"You got it."

"I'll do anything."

"My program requires more than dedication. It also requires secrecy."

That unexpected tidbit made me scoot closer to the edge of my seat.

"We don't talk about the program to people who aren't in it," he said, pausing as if contemplating how far he should go. Then, after a few seconds, his countenance brightened, deciding to continue. "I have developed a fitness enhancement supplement that will take your game to the next level. It's a pill that will increase your strength and speed, sharpen your focus."

"Is it illegal?"

"No. There's no law against it. It's all natural. It's not a drug, it's a supplement that helps your body perform better. Makes you stronger, faster, more in tune with your abilities, and everything around you. On and off the field." Coach Steele grinned knowingly. "I've seen the way you look at Lexa Thorn. Pretty girl."

"She's Austin's—" I broke off my sentence. "Sorry."

"Not anymore. She'll need someone to turn to. A strong arm." The corners of his mouth curled up ever so slightly. "As the starting quarterback, you'll grab her attention and keep it. What I'm saying is, Evan, is that with my all-natural supplement, the centerpiece of my special fitness program, you can have everything you've ever wanted. Even Lexa."

"It sounds... like a dream." I couldn't help but visualize Lexa slinking up to me and wrapping her arms around me.

"A dream that can come true." He rose from his chair and strolled over to the trophy case, traced his finger over the glass. "I want the three-peat, but beating my former team in the process would make it sweeter. I might even win coach of the year again. Truth is, we all have something to gain and something to lose."

"Lose?"

The coach's eyes burned with intensity. "The championship, of course."

"Oh right."

"But more than that..." The coach paced back over to his desk, used a key to unlock a drawer. He withdrew a bottle filled with bright red capsules, held it up for me to see. "I'll let you think about everything you have to gain. And this Friday, if you want to start, you'll have to join the rest of the core group and take the supplement. But let me warn you. You can't breathe a word of this to anyone outside the fitness program. If you do, the other guys, like Casper and Elijah, won't like it. You could lose everything."

My body radiated with a shaky tension. Was that a threat?

The coach sat and leaned back, peered at me with those dark eyes. "This Friday is the moment of truth. For you and the team."

___

Chapter 3: 1,702 Words

Story: 5,262 Words