Page 22 of Missed Notes (Rixon High 5)

“Yeah, I know. But the Tigers are looking strong.”

“We’re stronger.”

There was a reason Coach had named Aaron captain at the beginning of the season. He might not have Ezra’s natural skill or my stats, but Aaron was a born leader. And even though football wasn’t it for me, I was real fucking glad to have this season with him.

* * *

Less than an hour later,we were bathed in the harsh glare of the Friday night lights. It was a full house, a small section of blue and white standing out against the Tiger’s telltale colors spread out in the bleachers.

Coach Ford and his assistant coaches were busy going over last-minute strategy, but I was too busy searching the crowd for Sofia.

Most of the guys usually searched for their family, but I’d long given up looking for my mom and dad. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time they’d come to one of my games.

I found her, wedged between her mom and dad. Coach’s wife was also with them, along with Ezra’s girl, Ashleigh.

A strange pang went through me.

They were all so close—the Bennets, Fords, and Chases—like one big extended family. In some ways, as Aaron’s best friend, that mantle had extended to me over the years.

But it wasn’t the same.

Didn’t stop me craving it though. Imagining what it would be like to have a big, supportive family.

“Cole, son,” Coach Macintosh called. “Get over here.”

I shook the intrusive thoughts from my head and jogged over. “What’s up, Coach?”

“Your head on straight?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, glad to hear it. Now get out there and show us what you’re made of.” He clapped me on the shoulder, and I jogged off to the rest of my team.

Aaron tipped his head when he saw me coming. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, ready to kick some Tiger ass.”

“Damn right.” He grinned. “Get in here, QB.”

We all closed in, shoulder to shoulder, teammate to teammate. Coach had given us his pep talk in the locker room. Now it was Aaron’s turn.

“Okay, listen up. We’re five games in. Now I don’t know about you all, but I plan on bringing that championship home again this year. I think I speak for all the seniors here when I say no one wants to graduate a loser.”

The guys grumbled their approval, a ripple of energy going through the huddle.

“So we go out there and show these pussies why we’re still the best. Why we’re the ones to beat.”

“Hell yeah,” someone yelled.

“Okay get in here. Raiders on three. One… two… three…”

“RAIDERS!”

Our crowd echoed the sentiment back at us, hoots and hollers filling the air as we broke apart and jogged into position.

We’d won the coin toss and Aaron had opted for us to kick off.

I watched my teammates get ready. We knew the drill. Could recite Coach Ford’s playbook in our sleep. Being a Raider wasn’t just about playing football; it was about living and breathing the damn thing. And while part of me loved it—couldn’t help but get swept up in the thrill of it—part of me resented every second I was out here. On the field. Commanding the team. I hadn’t asked for this. I’d been happy playing wide receiver until this season when Coach needed to replace his star QB.

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