Page 75 of Keep Me
My dad … Olana … Britt.
Unsurprisingly, I missed, and it was the last time I was allowed on the field. At least one good thing about playing so terribly: Britt wouldn’t interview me, and I didn’t want to be anywherenear her right now. If she got close enough, or talked to me, then I had no doubts she’d figure out I was upset and try to help me. I didn’t want that. I wanted Britt to see me as a strong, confident protector, not as someone who became weak the minute his dad berated him.
Sitting on the bench, I assumed I was finished for the night, so when Coach waved me over, I was confused. Looking to both my sides, I pointed at myself. He nodded.Shit.He was going to let me out there again. I took a deep breath before shoving my helmet back on, jogging onto the field, and preparing to kick at the twenty-three-yard line. It was simple enough. I’d never missed a kick that close in my entire playing career at Covey U, and I only assumed they brought me out to try to rebuild my confidence after the last abysmal kick.
As expected, the crowd went quiet. My brain went blank. The way it always did when I was about to make a kick that could change the game. The ball was placed into position, and I looked at the goal, then to the ball. I repeated that motion a couple of times before I got comfortable with the angle, bent my knees, and let the bounce in the astro turf propel me forward to kick.
The minute my toe touched the ball, I knew it was wrong.
“Fuck,” I yelled, but no one heard me inside my helmet. The ball was too far right, and the wind pushed it even farther out of the goal line.
I’d missed again, and it was one of the easiest kicks of my career.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
I trudged over to the benches, refusing to make eye contact with anyone and ignoring the cameras that were no doubt on me.
“Tough break,” one of the other kickers, Kyle, said as I slumped back onto the bench. Thank God it wasn’t a game-winning goal, otherwise I’d have a target on my back for the rest of the week.I hardly moved from my spot for the rest of the game. Too paralyzed in the thoughts of seeing my dad and all the things he might tell me.
I always knew you were a failure. Thank goodness your mother didn’t live long enough to see what an embarrassment you turned out to be.
“Hey,” Britt murmured, and when I looked up, I realized everyone was leaving. I was still sitting on the bench, too frustrated with my own actions to want to move. I didn’t answer her, but she didn’t move away. She never did. She was always there for me even when I least expected it.
“Move over,” she said, knocking her hip on my side, and I obliged. Our thighs and shoulders touched as she sat next to me, and I wanted to laugh because this was the closest we’d been to each other since Vegas.
“I’m not here to interview you.”
“I guessed that. Unless you were trying to up your ratings by interviewing the worst kicker in Wildcat history.”
She snorted. “Please, you have a ways to go until you’re the worst. But, also, you do realize you have the best stats of any kicker that has ever played here, right?”
I looked at her and laughed. Of course she would know that. She was so obsessed with football it was ridiculous.
Knocking me with her elbow, she said, “We all have bad outings, you’re still the best kicker I’ve ever seen. Freshman me wishes I could say you were overrated because it would make me feel good, but I can’t.”
“I couldn’t get my head in the game today.”
She glanced over to the seats where Olana and my dad were sitting. “Understandable. There’s a lot going on. I’m sure you’ll do a better job next time.”
“Thanks.”
She pulled me into a side hug, shaking me a little. “Guess we’ll have to figure it out. You know, when I was in high school, I got the yipps.”
“Don’t tell me you played baseball too?”
She laughed. “No, but I think the term works well for everything. For a few games, I had this issue where every time I kicked, the ball would just dribble on the ground. Honestly, I was so embarrassed I thought my foot had finally decided it would rather play soccer, but it was so late in high school that I’d ruined my chances of ever making it on the team.”
“Did you ever get out of it?”
“Yeah. I watched a few zombie movies and got out of my head. I always watched those and thought if these people can survive a zombie apocalypse, then I can survive anything I’m going through. There was this one episode where the guy lost his glasses, and the only thing I could think was, how the heck was he supposed to survive without those? But somehow, he did, and well, that was always inspiring to me.”
“What were you in your head about?” I studied her because I never pegged her as the nervous type.
She looked at me sheepishly. “All kinds of things. Sometimes I just find it really hard to focus. It’s like there’s this inner voice in me constantly trying to be perfect for everyone and everything.” Her shoulders relaxed a little after saying that. “I don’t know. My family has never put pressure on me, but I guess when you have three professional athlete brothers, you start to think anything is possible if you try hard enough.”
“You’re already perfect, Britt. There’s no need to try so hard.”
“Thank you, but I’m trying to help you with your issues, not mine.”
