Page 12 of Saving the Halfback

“You okay, son?” Dad asked Ethan, but the man grabbed Ethan’s arm and pulled him away.

“He ain’t your son,” he called over his shoulder.

It wasthe first and last time I had seen Ethan get hit by his dad. I still remembered what my dad had told me.Sometimes that happens, and sometimes it can’t be fixed. But sometimes it can…all you have to do is be a good friend. Dad told me if it ever happened again to always tell him.

I followed Ethan around after that, which made him target me even more. He pushed me down, poured sand in my hair, almost paying me back for making him eat it, and even tried to use his size to intimidate me. But little Bailey, she wasn’t like me now; she could hold her own. One day, he yelled at me to leave him alone, and I spun around on him and yelled at him that I was going to be his friend whether he liked it or not. It wasn’t exactly what my father had told me to do, but it was what I had interpreted as needing to be done, to keep him safe. I had an overwhelming need to keep them all safe. Chase and Lachlan followed my lead, and every time we did things together, we always told Ethan he was joining. He had no choice.

Damn…weren’t those the days. I sighed. If only little Bailey could see me now, shaking like a coward just for sitting next to big, bad Ethan.

“Everything you need will be in your textbook, chapters twenty-six to thirty-four. This is an individual report, so I expect no talking.” Mr. Levie’s voice brought me back to the present. He was handing out papers to everyone. “I will be right back. You are to work quietly and remain seated, please.” He left the room, and immediately, everyone began talking. I rolled my eyes and opened my book.

“You’re not going to do it,” Ethan said from across the aisle.

I turned my head, surprised he was leaning toward me. “What?”

“Football. It’s not for you.”

I sighed.Little Bailey—this one's for you.

I shifted my body to face Ethan’s. “Why?”

He frowned, seeming confused by my confrontation, but he didn’t lower his gaze or look away, and for the first time in years, I locked eyes with him. I knew he wouldn’t respond unless he needed to, so I drew in as much confidence as I could muster.

“All right. There are four years of high school. I just spent three of those four becoming someone I never intended nor wanted to become.” I did a quick look around, happy to see no one was paying attention to us. “I have one year left. One year before”—I caught myself, my head pounding as I pushed the thought away—“before I have to learn to take over the family farm. So, listen to me closely, Ethan Greyson Henry.” He winced at that. “Idowant to play football. Not only do I want to play football, but I want to make friends, and I want to sit in the cafeteria, and I want to go to parties. Parties, Ethan. You got a problem with that? One year. I have one year before I’m living the rest of my life on a farm, so don’t you tell me what is or isn’t for me.”

I turned around and stared at my history book. I couldn’t focus, though. I was too wound up. Nolan reached over and took my hand in his, giving it a little squeeze. “You’re shaking.”

“I haven’t done that in so long,” I said.

“Told Ethan off?”

I shook my head, my chest heaving, my lips pressed tight, my stomach flip-flopping with butterflies. “Stood up for myself.”

Something passed over Nolan’s eyes, something that looked a lot like recognition. He gave me a little smirk. “Bailey, I think we are going to be good friends.”

I smiled, my shaking slowing. I did it… I made a friend.

“How was your first day?”Dad asked as we sat down to dinner. Mom made my favorite casserole and fresh buns.

I smiled at him. “Good.”

“Did you see your friends?” Mom asked. Over the years, I had felt bad whenever she asked about friends, so I had told her I made city friends, and they didn’t come to town much. I think she saw through it, though.

“Yeah. Also, I was thinking of joining the football team.”

“What?” The forkful of food that almost made it to my dad’s mouth hovered in the air as he froze.

“Is that tackle football?” Mom asked, seeming unphased.

I nodded, taking another bite of food to hide how nervous I was to ask them. “I need parental permission.”

Dad dropped his fork, and my heart sank. My father had never been one to limit me because of my gender, and when going into tykes football, he hadn’t seemed to mind, but seeing as high school football was male dominated, I wondered if I was pushing him too far this time.

Dad reached over and grabbed my hand. I looked up at him, and his eyes shone so bright. “You make me proud,” he said. “Bailey, I want to tell you something. Your mother and I”—he hesitated—“we have been so worried about you. I’m glad you had a good first day. And football! Have I ever told you—” Dad’s cell phone rang from where it sat on the table. “Hold on, it’s Earl.” He grabbed the phone and answered it. “Hey, Earl.”

Completely taken aback by dad’s enthusiasm, I glanced at Mom. The moment our eyes met, we burst out laughing.

Earl was in the middle of a rant when dad cut him off. “You'll never believe what happened today. Bailey is joining the high school football team. Yes,mydaughter. Yes. Well, you know the game schedule, Friday nights. Yeah, yeah, like old times.” Dad laughed, and I shook my head.

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