Page 25 of Saving the Halfback

“We did have cheerleaders, though,” Dad said. “Guys played the game and girls cheered them on.”

Ed scoffed. “Slutty girls in short skirts. I bet your mom was a cheerleader. Whores, the lot of them. I saved you from that lifestyle. You were too beautiful to lower yourself to those standards.”

His comment, though imaginary, reminded me that the cheerleaders had their practice right beside ours today. The number of stares and glares I’d received from a few of them made me wonder what I had done wrong, until I learned they were part of Hadley's group. I had no idea why she was so hell-bent on hating me.

Trying to ignore thoughts of Hadley and Ed, I said, “There’s the cleats.” I pointed to the wall display of shoes. “How do I know what my size is?”

There was a dry chuckle from behind me. “Honey, we only carry men’s sizes. What would you need cleats for? There are some lady jerseys right over there in apparel.” I turned around to see a worker behind me. He was older, around my dad’s age, with thinning brown hair and a belly shaped like a “b.”

“Lenny.” My dad greeted him.

“John.” Lenny nodded to him. “Can I help you find something?”

Dad smiled and walked up beside me. “Just getting some cleats for my daughter. She’s playing high school ball this year.”

Lenny frowned at me. “Softball?”

“Football,” I corrected him.

Lenny threw his head back and laughed. I could feel myself shrinking back, but Dad gave my shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “You sure them boys aren’t playing a joke on her, John? Maybe she’s pulling one on you.” He laughed again.

“Well, now, Lenny, I think that’s hardly called for,” Dad said, stepping up, his shoulders pulled straight.

“John, you’re serious? They’re putting agirlon the team? She’ll get hurt. You don’t want that for your daughter. All those boys—”

Dad held up a hand, cutting Lenny off.

My stomach flipped and suddenly dropped. I stepped back, pretending to look at a few things on the shelf as Dad had a quiet conversation with Lenny. The humming in my ears was loud as doubts came to the surface.

“You’re making a mistake.” Ed chuckled. “You will come out tainted, dirty.”

“Stop,” I whispered.

“They will tear you apart. You will never be accepted. You need me.”

I shook my head. “You’re not real.”

“Stop lying.”

“Bailey.” Dad called for me, giving me an escape from Ed. I tried to hide the tears that stung my eyes, but Dad’s stare narrowed on my face. “I know a better place.” He motioned for me to follow. I hung my head as we walked out of the store, empty-handed.

“Maybe going to the city will be better. Nolan said they had girls on his old team, so maybe it’s more common there.” I spoke quietly as Dad drove through town. Ed sat in the back seat, and I did everything I could not to look in the rearview mirror, afraid to catch a glimpse of him. Coach had said he would fit me tomorrow, though I couldn’t play without cleats and a mouth guard.

Dad didn’t respond to me; he didn’t say anything. I imagined he wished now, more than ever, he had a son. My parents had wanted a large family, but after having me, Mom had fertility issues. I would always be their only child.

“Maybe it would be best if I didn’t join,” I whispered, feeling the weight of things stacked up against me. Maybe Edwasright.

Dad had seemed happy and excited to help me get the gear I needed. For so long, we’d been struggling to connect, and now that we’d connected over football, everything felt like it was crashing down. My burger no longer sat nicely in my stomach.

Dad pulled up to O’Riley Sports, the small sports store owned by Lachlan’s family. He put the truck in park and turned to me. “Lenny was wrong and out of line. You have just as much of a right to play as any boy at that school. Understood?” Dad had a stern way of talking when he was heated; it was a no-nonsense kind of tone. He had my back, like that heavy hand he would place on my shoulder as a kid, giving me confidence. I took a deep breath and nodded.

Ed scoffed. “Always filling your head with nonsense. He doesn’t understand who you are, what you are. A woman. He always treated you like a little boy. Sickening—”

I slammed the door, cutting off his words

We walked into the store and, right away, were greeted by the man behind the counter. He had short red hair and a red beard. Mr. O’Riley never had cold blue eyes, though. Unlike his son, hewas always warm and welcoming. He was like a big Irish teddy bear.

“John McCormick, it’s been a minute. Decided to join the hockey draft this year?”

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