Page 8 of Going the Distance
Chapter 3
“Jesus, Lee,” I mumbled. “Some of these guys are huge.”
Lee was bulked out with pads and a helmet, and he wasn’t exactly small: shorter and leaner than Noah, still kinda tall, and strong. But some of the guys out on the field looked three times the size of him, psyching themselves up for tryouts. Some of them had already been on the team last year.
And, up until then, I’d thought Lee would be a shoo-in for the team.
“Sure,” he replied, bouncing on his toes, “but I’m fast, and you know I can throw the ball. That linebacker shirt has my name on it.”
“Actually, I think the quarterback shirt does.”
He pulled a face at me. Lee had always been into football—and pretty good at it—but he’d never wanted to be on the team before now. Not when Noah had been the shining star of the team as the quarterback. I kind of couldn’t blame him.
Lee started whistling, and it took me a minute to recognize the song.
“Is that that song? ‘I Hope I Get It,’ or whatever it’s called?”
“Yuh-huh. FromA Chorus Line.”
“You what, now?”
“Hey. I watched a lot of musicals online with Rachel this summer so she could prep for drama club. She’s going for a leading role this year. I’m a good supportive boyfriend, you know. Ask me to sing you Fiyero’s part from ‘As Long as You’re Mine.’ I rock that.”
First he picked a desk next to Rachel instead of me, and just now I was finding out that he’d been spending time this summer singing musicals with her? What else wasn’t he sharing with me?
But I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. “Whatever you say, buddy.”
The coach’s whistle shrilled across the field. “Line up, boys! We’re starting with running drills!”
“Guess you’d better go.”
“Wish me luck.”
“Hey.” I put my hand on Lee’s shoulder so he looked me in the eye. I nodded at him. “You’ve got this.”
“And you’ve got a zit on your chin.”
“Love you, too!” I yelled after him, watching him run out onto the field to join the rest of the hopefuls. I took a spot in the bleachers to watch and couldn’t help comparing him to how Noah had once played. Lee wasn’tasgood, but he was still a strong player.
When they were done, Lee started toward me in the bleachers rather than following the rest of the guys to the locker room. I hopped down a few rows, grinning at him, but Coach Pearson got to him first, clapping him on the shoulder.
“You did good, Little Flynn. Maybe you’ll live up to your name yet.”
“I made the team?”
“I’ll post the sheet tomorrow morning, but it’s looking good. Your brother help you with some of those passes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“He did a damn fine job. Now go on—hit the showers. You can celebrate with your girlfriend later.”
“Oh, no, she’s not—”
Coach Pearson was already gone.
I’d made my way down the rest of the bleachers and did a little dance. “You did it! You did it! You made the team!”
Lee stared at me blankly for a second before breaking out into a grin and throwing his arms around me before I could protest. I gagged. “Did you even put deodoranton?”
