Page 160 of Rock Bottom Girl
“Ah, memories,” she sighed fondly.
67
Jake
Everyone around me on the cold-ass bleachers was watching the game. Well, in between planning who was bringing what to Thanksgiving. As predicted, Marley’s parents and my uncles had hit it off big time.
I was too busy watching my girl to participate in the great pie debate. Marley stood on the sidelines, a deceptively relaxed stance. Her hands were in the pockets of her jacket. Her feet braced apart, and she nodded to herself as she followed the action on the field. Vicky bounced and vibrated next to her, her frizzy red curls seemed determined to escape the ear warmers clamped over her head.
“I can’t watch,” Ned wailed next to me. He peeked through gloved fingers as the Bugler’s offense drove down into Barn Owl territory.
“It’s gonna be fine. We’ve got this,” I promised.
The Bugler forward, the one who had to be close to seven-feet-tall, booted the ball with a thunder foot. I held my breath with the rest of the stadium as it sailed over the heads of our defense and through Ashlyn’s competent hands into the back of the net.
“Fuck. I mean—” I scrambled to cover my Sunday-Night-Football-beer-and-bean-dip reaction. I saw Marley’s shoulders slump and wanted to climb over the people and short fence between us.
“Ha! Loooooooser!” Coach Vince, in a Barn Owls parka and knit hat that hid his massive bald spot, cupped his hands and howled from a few rows down.
There was no way I was going to get through life without punching that asshole in the face. I made a mental note to figure out what the legal repercussions would be. Maybe I could enlist Marley’s help for another prank. The woman had a gift.
“I hate that fucking guy,” I muttered under my breath.
“My sentiments exactly,” Jessica growled next to me. She picked up her not-quite-empty chicken soup bowl and chucked it.
I watched in horror and delight as it flew gracefully through the air and landed in upside-down perfection on top of Coach Vince’s head.
He howled, whirling around and sending pieces of corn flying. Broth seeped through his hat. Every single person in the section suddenly became engrossed in watching the Buglers celebrate their goals. Not a single spectator pointed in our direction. Jessica Cicero was a beloved part of the entire last generation’s elementary school years. No one was going to rat her out to an overgrown jackass.
“Who did it?” Coach Vince screeched.
“You wanna sit down so we can see?” someone suggested, trying to peer around Vince’s girth.
While the Buglers celebrated the goal, the home team jogged back to take their positions for kickoff.
I whipped out my phone, my thumbs flying across the screen.
Me: It’s a psychological move, not an indicator of the outcome of the game. Also, your mom just beaned Coach Vince with chicken corn soup.
I looked up, saw Marley glance down at her watch, and then whirl around to look into the stands.
Vince was still on his feet threatening everyone within earshot that he was going to either sue them or kick their asses.
Marley’s eyes met mine, and I flashed her a thumbs-up. She grinned and turned back to the game.
“Coach Vince, a word?” Principal Eccles managed to look stern in a blue puffy jacket and blue painted face.
“Ooooooh,” the crowd crooned as Coach Vince marched off for some much-needed disciplinary action.
I fist-bumped Jessica and turned my attention back to the field.
The Barn Owls didn’t appear to be too rattled by the early goal, and to Marley’s credit, neither did she. In fact, she seemed even calmer now. The team lined up for the kickoff, and I noticed the front line was looking at Marley.
She held up two fingers, and the girls nodded.
“That’s my girl,” I said under my breath.
Natalee tapped the ball with the outside of her foot to Libby and took off running down the field. Libby turned around and passed the ball to the midfielder behind her and followed Natalee down the field in a dead sprint. The midfielder, facing down the Bugler front line, crossed the ball to a defender on the far side of the field. Our entire front line was running into enemy territory while the Buglers’ offense chased the ball. Angela dribbled the ball out in front of her, gazed down the field, and booted it.
