Beauty and the Baller

Bobcats are dead meat. We will tear you apart piece by piece on the field just like we did these animals. We beat you last year and we’ll beat you again. You’re not good enough to make it to state. And Coach Smith is a loser. He’s only there until he can get a better job. Go fuck yourselves, dickheads.

“Well. That’s uncalled for,” I mutter.

The trio has followed and is trying to read it over my shoulder, but I tuck it into my pocket. No reason to fan the flames.

“This is a squirrel head!” Bruno grouses, jerking one up off the field and waving it around. “And here’s a tiger. Stupid fuc—I mean jerks. They didn’t even use the right animal!”

“I found a teddy bear!” Milo calls from the end zone.

Toby’s mouth tightens. “They must have had to go to every Walmart in the state to get this many stuffed animals.” He kicks one of them, and it sails through the air.

I grit my teeth. Last year, our team had a hill to climb, and we were the underdogs but ended up with a good season, but now that we’re slated as one of the top teams in the state . . . “Who did this?”

Toby gives me a steely look. “My bets are on Huddersfield.”

“That game isn’t for weeks,” I say.

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. They’re vicious.”

I whip my hat off and slap my leg. “We don’t have a million-dollar stadium for nothing. Let’s check the cameras.”

We march to the control room upstairs, but before we get there, Toby stops us, his tone bitter. He’s got his phone in his hands. “Huddersfield has already claimed it. They posted on Instagram.” He shoves a phone at me, and I stare at a picture of our field littered with red-splattered animals. They must have been up in the stands to get this pic. Fuckers.

“Who is this person?” I ask.

Toby takes his phone back. “A fake account by the looks of it—which means they’ll get away with it.”

Bruno grabs it. “Dude! It’s got over five hundred likes and all kinds of comments.” His shoulders heave as he points out to the field. “This demands revenge.”

Bruno can be a hothead, Toby is the peacemaker, and Milo just goes along, but Toby nods his agreement. Skeeter does, too, and I frown. No, Skeeter . . .

We check the cameras and see a white SUV pulling up and three masked figures getting out, all dressed in black and carrying garbage bags. They seem to be guys, but it’s hard to tell with the view. The license plate is covered in paper. Well planned.

“They knew our schedule,” Toby murmurs.

“They’re watching us,” Bruno says, looking over his shoulder. “They could be right now. Maybe hidden cameras.”

I keep the eye roll in. “More than likely, they got lucky and moved fast. They scattered those toys in less than ten minutes.” I heave out an exhale. “Probably athletes.”

“The players,” Toby says grimly.

“Yeah, they won state last year, and now they’re worried about us,” Bruno snaps. “Trying to fu—I mean mess with us.”

“Back in my day, we’d get them back and make sure everyone knew,” Skeeter mutters.

“That’s what I’m saying! We can’t let this go,” Toby says.

“Where are we gonna get stuffed rams? They have the stupidest mascot. I mean, they keep a live goat in their stadium and pretend it’s a ram. Idiots,” Bruno grumbles.

“That poor goat, all tied up. No family or friends,” Skeeter adds. “Animals deserve to live in the wild.”

“Steal the goat! It’s been done before!” Bruno shouts. “That’s it, Skeeter!”

“Yeah!” call Toby and Milo as they fist-bump each other.

Skeeter starts, then gives me a wild look. “Nah, nah, Coach, I wasn’t suggesting they—”

I cross my arms. “No one is stealing anything. We’re going to let this go.”

The boys gape. “Coach, if we don’t, then we’re pussies,” Bruno argues. “Bobcat pride means something.”

Toby and Milo nod in agreement.

I shake my head. “This team is about integrity. We dress up for games, we use polite language in front of others, we try our best in class, we work our bodies, we practice, and we prepare our hearts. Win the heart, win everything. You can’t do that if you’re consumed with getting back at Huddersfield. That’s what they want. It’s a ploy.” I put my hands on my hips. “Besides, just like on the field, it’s the second person who gets caught. They’d be waiting on you. Don’t stoop to their level. Be better.”

There’s a long silence, the guys not meeting my eyes. Skeeter shuffles his feet, a mumbled “Yeah, what he said” coming from him.

I look at Skeeter. “Get maintenance on this, stat. We need it cleaned up before practice. Call the office, and have someone call the principal over at Huddersfield and see if they had any students absent today. I doubt it will help, but we can see. Also, see if we can get that Insta account down.”