Page 29 of Kiss the Girl
Chapter Ten
Noah
“Nah, coach.”
I stared at DeShawn Jones, our starting tight end. I’d hit the ground running with the team, jumping into practices at the beginning of the week. I thought I’d developed a good rapport quickly with these guys. Maybe not?
“Did you just say, ‘Nah?’” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Why did you say nah?”
“How are we supposed to practice all week, game on Fridays, keep our grades up,andcome in at nights to work on this float? And some of these cats got part-time jobs too. So nah.”
“There is no ‘nah,’” I told him. “We have to make a Christmas Town booth.”
“Can’t we march in the parade or something?” one of the offensive linemen asked. “Those booths are a lot of work.”
“They’re also a lot of money. Based on what the ASB has made the last few years, we could buy two more tackling sleds.”
“Ask J.J.’s dad to buy them. That’s how we usually get stuff,” another kid called out, and the team laughed.
I’d seen J.J. pulling into the school parking lot in a shiny Wrangler. No doubt his dad could afford the tackling sleds. But that wasn’t the point.
“It builds character for you to earn what you have,” I said.
“Bruh,” DeShawn said. “It was supposed to build character just to play football. I’m already keeping a 3.5, putting in fifteen hours a week at football, and another twenty stocking shelves at the grocery store. I don’t know how much more character I need, but for dang sure I don’t need to get it by paying for tackling sleds. I ain’t even on the D-line.”
The rest of the team laughed again, and I could feel them slipping away. If I couldn’t convince them they needed to participate in the fundraiser, there was no way Dr. Boone would consider me for the head coaching job, and in all honesty, I wouldn’t deserve it.
“I can understand that. But what if the fundraiser benefitted each of you more directly? What if we got something other than tackling sleds?”
“Like what?” DeShawn asked.
“What if it offset the cost of uniforms? However much we earn would be divided up and applied as a discount, so that could knock down your costs for next year. And for those of you who are graduating, that might not feel like much of an incentive, but think about what it does for your team. You leave that as a legacy.”
This was met by murmurs instead of grumbles, which sounded more like interest than complaining.
“I like it,” said Grant, a graduating captain. “I could have used a break like that this year.”
“No kidding,” said DeShawn. “That’s a five-hour shift at the grocery store I could spend studying instead.”
“You’ve got a head for economics, DeShawn. Hope you’re thinking about that as a major in college.”
“I wasn’t, but maybe I will,” he said with a small smile.
“Let’s make it as easy as possible to work on this booth. Christmas Town isn’t until right before Christmas—”
“That’s how it got its name, coach.” DeShawn smirked.
“Thanks, DeShawn. Anyway, even if we get to state—”
“When,” said Grant.
“Evenafterwe get to state,” I corrected myself to a couple of cheers, “that still gives us three weeks to work on this thing. How about you give me two hours every Saturday” — more grumbling—“but we don’t start until October, and we rotate offense, defense, and special teams, so everyone doesn’t have to show up every Saturday.”
The grumbles settled down. Grant scanned the faces of the team. “You’ve got a deal, coach.”
