Page 153 of Saving the Halfback

“Nolan Brodie Reeves, you will stay in that bed, or else you will hurt yourself further. I’ll make a drink for you. Somemagnesium and potassium will help, banana and strawberry? I’ll add the spinach—”

“Chocolate goes good with that,” I offered.

Rob chuckled and shook his head. “Yes, chocolate. I’ll have to go to the store. Any requests?” he asked Nolan. Nolan couldn’t stop frowning at his father like he had grown two extra heads. “Mint, you like chocolate mint.” He snapped his fingers, like he had just remembered something.

“We should head out,” I said to the others. “Coach will have a heart attack about one of us missing practice before the weekend, never mind five of us.”

Nolan grabbed my hand. “What’d you do to him?” he mock-whispered.

Rob sighed. “She told me to stop and listen to the birds, son.”

I smiled at Nolan and gave his hand a squeeze before leaving.

56

Bailey

Coach had gone ghost white when we showed up without Nolan. I explained he needed a break, that he had hurt his muscle and needed to rest it. I didn’t go into detail, because I didn't want him going off the deep end.

“Do your warm-ups!” Coach shouted. “We will be right there.” He and the other coaches turned into one another in a circle and began talking, pointing to a board in Coach's hand.

We all stood for a second, staring, because…Nolan wasn’t here. He always led everyone. I almost had the courage to shout out, but Chase beat me to it, and I was so relieved. He led us through a few warm-ups before the coaches seemed to come to a conclusion and split us up into our usual groups…except Chase and me.

Coach called us over to him. “You two are going to be our back-up quarterbacks, in case Nolan is unable to play this weekend.”

“I’m not a quarterback,” I said right away. Chase chuckled at me. “No, no, like, I’m not a quarterback. I can’t think that fast.”

“Deep breaths, McCormick,” Chase said.

“We’re going to do some scrimmaging, get a feel for it, but I think you will do better than you think,” Coach said.

Chase and I stayed with Coach and went over the plays we had lined up for the weekend. When it was time to scrimmage, though, I completely choked. I was tackled every single time. The ball never even left my hands.

Chase pulled me aside while Coach was talking to the rest of the team, picking out what needed work and calling players out for not being where they needed to be.

“I didn’t take you for giving up,” Chase said.

“I can’t do this, the pressure is intense.”

“What’s the difference between this and halfback?” he asked.

“I don’t have to worry about everyone else. It’s easier to know my place and my role. The minute you start throwing in everyone else’s place and everyone else’s roles, it gets jumbled up in my head.”

Chase nodded, looking over my head for a moment, then refocusing on me. “Picture the pitts.”

“What?”

“The pitts. Imagine we are at the pitts. Just another fun free-for-all. You get to choose—hand the ball, throw it, run it. Don’t overthink it. That’s the best part of football. You can go with your gut and don’t have to overthink.”

I took a deep breath and scrubbed my hand down my face. Coach ran through a few plays with Chase first, which gave me a moment to get back into football mode. Chase was right—that was the best part of playing football, just playing. Not overthinking anything, not worrying about what was about to happen, just being in the now and playing the game. If I overthought too much, I would get plowed over by another player. I had to keep my head up and focus at all times.

Still, I worried when it was my turn to run through the play. Chase was really good as quarterback, and when I thought aboutit, of course he was. He was always going to quarterback clinics when we were younger, his dad pushing for him to be the best as a young child. He had more experience than I did. Neither of us were on the same level as Nolan, but together, we weren’t too bad.

Coach gave the signal, and when I called the play in the huddle, everyone broke off, and I got into position behind Ethan. I was so glad he couldn’t see me shake, but it took a few moments for me to realize I had to call the snap and everyone—offense and defense, alike—were all waiting for me.

I called it, my hands shaking so much, I fumbled the ball. I jumped for it, but Coach blew his whistle. “Bailey, you good?”

I nodded. “I can do it,” I told him and myself.The pitts. Remember the pitts.

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