Page 14 of Make the Play
He gets out of his truck, leaning over the back to grab his cooler when he hears shouting. Turning around, he’s met with the wide-eyed face of Arlo Rosales, one of his freshman players. Arlo’s a good kid, talented, but green as fuck and desperate to live up to his family’s reputation. The Rosales boys are legendary, and Arlo’s got no shortage of older brothers or cousins whose reputations and skills he’ll constantly be compared to in the coming year. Neither of Jason’s older brothers had played sports, but he’d still been unable to escape every teacher comparing him to Andrew’s academic excellence or Charlie’s outstanding art skills, so he can only imagine how hard it is for Arlo living in the shadow of so many family members who played before him.
“Hey, Arlo.”
“Morning, Coach King,” Arlo says, tapping his fingers on his backpack straps.
“You ready?” Jason asks.
Arlo tightens his grip on his straps, holding on so tightly his knuckles turn white. “Sure, Coach. I’m ready for anything.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Why would I be nervous?” Arlo asks, looking like he might pass out.
“High school is a big change from middle school. My best friend had to hold my hand on the first day.”
“You’re lying,” Arlo gapes.
“I never lie,” Jason tells him seriously. “Between you and me, I don’t even know why I was nervous. I’d been so excited for high school, talking it up all summer. Then we got here and I couldn’t get out of the car. My older brothers drove us and they parked and I just froze. My best friend literally had to hold my hand and drag me out of the backseat.”
“I don’t have a best friend,” Arlo says quietly.
“You will. The team is your family, Arlo. We’ve got your back, alright? You need anything, you tell me or one of the guys. In fact, hang on.” Jason lifts his fingers and places two of them between his lips, whistling loudly. At least two dozen students turn their direction, but Jason only cares about one. He waves his arm, grinning when Matty sees him and takes off running towards them.
Beside him, Arlo remains quiet, gaze darting between Jason and Matty with unmasked shock. He can’t blame him. Matty’s a senior and the star quarterback, probably even more of a legend than any of the Rosales boys. He’s also poised to get scouted for a D1 scholarship this year if he can keep his grades up, so it’s no surprise Arlo is staring at him with wide eyes. He can’t help but wonder if that’s what he and Theo had been like when they both made the team freshman year.
Matty comes to a stop directly in front of them, smiling widely. “What’s up, Coach?”
“Thought maybe you could make sure Arlo finds his way around campus today.”
“I can find my way,” Arlo protests.
“No way, man. This campus is like a maze. My freshman year I ended up in Mr. Murphy’s sophomore science instead of my freshman lab,” Matty laughs. “I didn’t realize until class was half over.”
Arlo doesn’t say anything, but the hint of a smile on his face is enough.
“Come on, we’ll figure out where your first class is. You can have lunch with me and the guys too.” Matty throws an arm around Arlo’s shoulders, pulling him towards the grassy area where a few other guys from the team are waiting for his return.
Jason watches Arlo approach the older players, relieved when he’s welcomed into their fold with a few claps on the back before being pulled into their game of toss the football. Even though he suspected that's what would happen, it still feels good to see it, and Jason breathes a little easier knowing his guys will make sure that Arlo settles in. He meant what he said. The team is a family, and Jason has a zero tolerance policy for toxic behavior or bullying. He’s not sure if it's that policy or he’s just lucky, but his last few years of kids have been amazing. Sure, not all of them have been as close as others but there’s never been an instance where anyone was left out, which is exactly what Jason wants.
With a renewed excitement for the semester ahead, Jason turns, fully prepared to head across campus to drop his lunch off in his office before his first class when he catches sight of a familiar head of red hair trudging up the steep sidewalk from the direction of the bus stop. Jason hadn’t given too much thought to why Emerson was taking the bus the day before but he does now, wondering if it’s by choice or not.
His musing on Emerson’s choice of transportation shifts into a different kind of curiosity as he watches him drag a wheeled tote behind him while trying to balance a massive box of books, a travel tumbler and a tote bag that’s slipped down to the crook of his elbow making the entire situation look mildly uncomfortable. Behind him, a student riding a skateboard stumbles over the crack in the sidewalk, slamming into Emerson’s back. This sends him careening forward, his box crashing to the ground and splitting down the side causing his books to go flying in every direction while his tumbler rolls into the gutter.
Jason drops his cooler and runs, skidding to a stop beside Emerson, who looks like he’s not sure if he wants to chuck his books into the gutter with his wayward drink or maybe himself.
“Sorry dude,” the teenager says, picking up his skateboard then stepping over Emerson.
“Need some help?” Jason asks, squatting into a crouch.
“Why is it always you?” Emerson groans.
“Sorry,” Jason apologizes, not entirely sure what he’s apologizing for but sensing it might not be a good time to ask given the current circumstances.
“No, you—ugh,” Emerson groans, mumbling to himself as he starts stacking the books. “This is what I get for taking personal belongings on the bus, but my Uber had the smallest trunk ever on Saturday, so I thought, ‘fine, just bring the last box on Monday on the bus. What’s the worst that could happen?’ The worst it turns out is that the bus was seven minutes late which might not sound like a lot, but I had a plan. A plan, Jason. Then a little kid with sticky hands touched the box and sneezed on it which is frankly disgusting. As if that wasn’t bad enough, someone tried to sit on the box since it was next to me and smashed down the corner which is probably why it broke so easily.”
He pauses to take a deep breath, leaving Jason to stare. That’s the most words he’s said since Jason met him, both times combined. He’s not done either.
“I don’t even know why anyone would sit next to me, especially on my box. There were plenty of available seats, and there’s really nothing about me that screams come sit by me. Does my face look approachable to you?”
