Page 39 of Heart of Gold
“It’s her. The girl from the cruise.”
He barely glaces up from his Ipad, his fingers typing furiously, “What are you talking about?”
“She’s here!” I whisper-shout.
He drops the Ipad to his lap, “Who is?”
“Daisy,” I ramble. “The girl from the cruise, she’s here. I just saw her.”
He looks at me and then behind him like he’d be able to pick her out of a crowd this big then turns back, “That wasn’t her name was it? I don’t see her.”
“She left,” I announce. “Right through the K section tunnel approximately thirty seconds ago.”
He’s calling me crazy with his eyes as he picks the Ipad back up slowly, “Do you need to sit down? Did someone hit you too hard?”
“No, Levi. I know what I saw. I need to go, can you cover for me?”
He reaches up to my forehead like he’s checking my temperature, “Have you lost your fucking mind? We’re in the middle of a game, Gav.”
I swat his hand away, “No I’m serious. Cover for me.”
He grabs me by my jersey and pulls me closer, “If you want to stay on this team I don’t suggest abandoning the game.”
I roll my eyes, “Not abandoning, just going to the bathroom.”
“Gavin,” he warns. “Don’t be an idiot. Dad is here.”
I want to argue with him, but I don’t. He’s right. I can’t leave this game. I can’t risk pissing off Coach and losing my scholarship.
I need the money to actually make it through college because, I can promise you, football is not my future. But right now? Football is my present.
It’s paying for classes.
I watch Collins as he keeps looking back to where Daisy was standing and let my mind reel. I know that isn’t what Remi said her name was. Looking around the sideline, I search for him among my teammates. He’s on the damn field. I wait until defense is coming off the field and corner him before he can even get water.
“What did you say that blonde girl’s name is?”
He stares at me, “What blonde girl?”
“Collins’ ex. The one from your class.”
He understands, grabbing a green gatorade bottle from the cart. “Oh, Quinn.”
He tilts his head toward the field, “You better get out there.”
I jog to the huddle and listen as Collins calls the play. A wave of regret washes over me as I look up at the empty seat. I should’ve gone after her. I have wished for days that I got her number, and I couldn’t even go after her.
The ball is snapped and Collins overthrows Vance, our tight end, and the ball is nearly intercepted. His head isn’t in the game, much like mine, but we’re too close to blow it with just this last quarter left.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” I tell him, “But forget about it. We have to win this game.”
His eyes turn dark, his stare turning into a hateful glare. “Mind your own fucking business, Richardson. I’ll worry about my game and you worry about yours.”
I shake my head, bumping my shoulder pad against his as I walk past him to line up, “It’s our game, you asshole.”
Running down the field, I wait for the ball to come my way, and the throw is about five yards too short. The next couple of plays don’t amount to much, so it’s fourth down and Coach sends the punt team in.
As soon as I’m back on the sideline, I find Remi before he goes back in the game.
