American Honey

“She doesn’t realize it either, but I’m changing that tonight.”

Coach scoffs. “Good luck with that. It looked like she wanted to scratch your eyes out before.”

“She did.” I smile. “City girl— thinks she’s tough.”

“From what I saw today, she is.”

That makes me smile even more.

Laney yells hike, and I watch, with all the air subdued in my lungs, as she drops back like she’s going to pass, then fakes and hands the ball to the running back behind her. The tall blonde finds a hole in the line and runs seamlessly into the end zone.

TOUCHDOWN!

Everyone on the sidelines and in the stands goes berserk.

“Alright, alright! No celebration yet, we’re still down by one!” Coach McKenzie screams. He sends in the kicker. This is in the bag. I’ve seen Sherry punt, she’s a soccer player who can launch the ball seventy-five yards.

The line quickly reforms. My heart is beating out of my chest. North looks burned up. They came for retribution, and all they got was another ass kicking. When will they learn?

The center snaps the ball, and Laney positions it laces out. Sherry kicks and all eyes follow as it soars perfectly between the goal posts.

Wolverines twenty-eight; North twenty-seven. Losers.

The Slammers run off the field animated and victorious. Laney jumps into my arms as soon as she reaches me. I’m not sure what sparked it, but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“You kicked butt, QB.”

“I had a stellar offensive coach.” Laney tries to slide down my body, but I stop her. I’m not letting her go. Ever again.

“Kam, put me down.”

“No.”

“Come on.” She kicks her legs, but I still refuse her.

“We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Besides, I need ice for my elbow.”

“You did hurt it.” I stare her down. I would have iced it a quarter and a half ago. “Fine, we’ll get ice, and we’ll talk.” I march straight off the field, down the thorough way and into the locker room.

“Kam! This is the boy’s locker room, I can’t be in here!”

“Of course you can. No one’s here. Besides, this stadium has the best rehab room in the state.” I plant Laney on the bench in front of my old locker. She looks around as I retrieve an ice pack, a thin towel, and some wrap. “Put your arm out,” I instruct. She does, and I carefully place the wrapped ice pack against her elbow and wind the bandage around it. “Better?”

She looks at her arm. “It’s good. Thanks.”

“Welcome. Now let’s talk.” I straddle the bench so we are sitting face to face.

“About what?”

“Us.”

Laney huffs. “There is no us.”

“Well, there should be.”

“I can’t be with someone I can’t trust.”