Page 2 of A Game as Old as Time

Gunner plastered on the fake grin he had been working on for months as Andy got out of the car. The departure was enough to set Ty off on the next topic, and he began to talk through what was still needed for the party tomorrow night at Emilio’s.

Look at that stupid-ass prop.

His eyes had landed on something they had been trying to avoid. The cutout on Andy’s front yard, a plastic South Mountain Football helmet with Andy’s name and number in the middle, seemed to taunt him.

Why do we even---

Ty punched his shoulder, and he instinctively jerked the car into drive. The internal battle he had been fighting began to dissipate as his grasp once more tightened around the steering wheel.

“You know he’s forgetting the cups,” Ty joked. His voice sounded quiet and far away in Gunner’s ears.

Right.

Gunner flexed his hands and stayed quiet. His mind began to jump back and forth until it landed on the radio broadcast they had been listening to.

Expectations?

“G? You cool?”

Of course.

Gunner cleared his throat and shrugged as he pulled up to his house. Somehow, he had driven the two blocks home without even realizing it.

“G?” Ty’s voice was no longer boisterous or arrogant. It was softer, one that a best friend uses when they know something is wrong.

“Yeah man,” Gunner said as he shifted the car into park and rested his head against the leather steering wheel. “Just tired, you know?”

Ty’s eyes didn’t move; the silence in the car was heavier than the humid air outside.

“I know, dude.” His best friend finally swung open the door, allowing heat to overtake the interior. “Hey.” Ty’s voice was still low as he swung his bulky legs out. “Just get through tomorrow’s practices, and then we can relax for a few days. We can hit up Emilio’s party and, you know, just chill and have some fun before school starts.”

Gunner nodded in halfhearted agreement.

“You need to have some fun.” Ty’s bicep flexed as he grabbed the handle. “We all need to have some fun.”

Fun?

Gunner waited as Ty grabbed his bag from the back and moved across the street toward his house.

“See you in the morning, man. Remember, it’s your day for bagels!”

Right.

Gunner took a deep breath and finally built up the strength to ease out of the car and step into the sweltering summer heat. He gave a lazy wave to his best friend and popped the trunk of the Sentra. The musty odor that greeted him was pungent yet familiar---somehow comforting after the last few months.

He tossed his bag into the middle of the yard and began his walk down to the mailbox. He had followed this routine for years after practice, even though it required that he pass his own football helmet cut-out in the yard.

Screw that prop.

His name and number, etched in yellow, glowed against the emerald backdrop of the lawn.

So stupid.

He snapped his leg back, catching the number sixteen helmet with the underside of his foot. The loud clang rang out into the humid air, and he did not even bother to look at the mail as he stomped back across the pavement.

“Ellie!” The voice startled him, and he jerked his head around toward it. A small dog with a leash trailing behind it was in his yard, gnawing at the edge of his gym bag. “Stop it!”

A girl who looked to be about his age regained control of the leash and tried to pull the dog back onto the sidewalk.

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