Page 14 of The Late Hit
Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, the fans start to retreat back up the stairs on the way to the exit. Before we have a chance to exit our row, a security guard that I recognize from my visits to the stadium approached us.
“Excuse me, Miss Wilder?”
Turning around I smile at Gary. “Hi, Gary! Hell of a win, wasn’t it?”
He smiles. “It sure was. Best one I’ve seen in a while, and I’ve been here for ages.”
“Oh please, Gary, you don’t look a day older than twenty-five,” I respond with a wink.
“Now, I didn’t peg you as a liar,” he says, blushing. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I was instructed by Mr. Boyd to escort you to the athletic hallway.”
A shocked expression slides across my face, because I can’t imagine that Mr. and Mrs. Boyd would request my presence after our awkward cookout. “Of course.”
Turning to look at my friends, I give them a shrug.
“Want us to wait for you?” Cody asks. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you behind.”
“I'll be fine, Code,” I assure him. Giving him a hug, I whisper in his ear. “Just make sure the girls get back okay. I don’t know this Gregg guy.”
“I’ve got ‘em, B.” He goes to exit our row as the rest of our group follows, giving me hugs as they pass by. Cody turns over his shoulder and calls, “I’ll save a shot for you!”
Gary leads me across the wall separating the stands and the field until we get to a gate. He uses his badge to unlock the gate and escorts me down the stairs, across the field, and into the tunnel. I’ve been down here multiple times, but knowing I’ve been summoned has a sense of dread crawling up my skin. Weaving our way through the tunnel, we approach the athletic hallway where a few other family members, friends, and girlfriends wait. The girls spot me first and, of course, are the first to give me displeased looks. Of course, Tiffani, a well-known jersey chaser and campus mean girl, is waiting with her girl gang. I wonder whose bed she’s warming tonight to end up in the tunnel. To wait outside the locker room, you have to be on an approved list that the players or coaching staff submits. It keeps the jersey chasers at bay. Well, it’s supposed to, but Tiffani is here, so obviously not it doesn’t keep them all out.
“Quinton asked me to bring you here to wait for him. Tell him I said ‘good game,’” Gary says before turning away and leaving me standing in this hallway.
There’s not one ounce of me that wants to make conversation with parents or these bitches, so I do the universal signal of ‘leave me the hell alone.’ I pull out my cell phone.
Will has a reputation on campus. He’s a playboy. He hides behind his reputation, putting on this fuckboy personality. Everyone has their secrets and relies on their masks to hide behind.
Me included.
Thelockerroomishyped. A full freak-out mode. We just beat Loganville for the first time in five years. Damn, it feels great. Fucking fantastic. And the best part is, I scored the winning touchdown. The NFL scouts are going to love that shit.
“Settle down! Settle down! Settle down!” Coach Campbell yells over all our excitement. “Guys, give me five minutes, and then I’ll let you have this night to celebrate.”
JP turns down the music that he had blasting through the speakers, while the rest of us gather around Coach.
“Now, that was one hell of a game. I’m so fucking proud of you boys. You’ve worked hard all week. You were hungry for a win, and you hunted those Raiders down and persevered to get the W. Defense, you put up a big stop at the end of the fourth quarter that allowed our offense to go out and show Loganville that we are superior. Now, where’s Boyd?”
Coach looks around, searching the crowd for me. Grant pushes me toward Coach.
“Boyd, that was one hell of a run! Holy shit, I’ve seen you jump, but that was top-notch. Not only did you score the game-winning touchdown, but you put up two-hundred-twenty-seven rushing yards.”
Everyone starts whooping and hollering before Coach continues.
“Today’s game ball goes to you. Keep putting in the work, and it’ll keep paying off.”
Coach Campbell hands me the game ball and slaps my back.
“That goes for all of you,” he continues over the cheers. “This is going to be one hell of a season. Now go celebrate. Don’t do anything stupid but go have some fun. Y’all earned it!”
Helmets hit lockers as Harris begins our chant. “Whose house?”
“Our house!” the rest of us yell.
“Whose house?”
“Our house!”
