The Rivalry

Another senior shot to her feet. “The only real option here is Kayla, even with her disgusting and probably inbred Michigan boyfriend.”

I couldn’t fault her for saying it. If the roles had been reversed, I would have been that voice. There were murmurs of agreement. It was kind of amazing and humbling. They still trusted me as their leader, even though I’d made mistakes.

“Suck it, Lisa!” someone yelled from the rear of the seats, and I bit down on my lip to keep from smiling. I wasn’t supposed to allow that kind of thing, but frankly, I’d had it with Lisa. She looked around with wide eyes, and seemed to be wondering how this all went wrong.

“Her?” she demanded, casting a finger at me. “She’s a traitor! I’m not going to stand here and take orders from her.”

I considered her statement critically. “All right. Then get off the bus.”

“What?” she roared.

The football season was almost over, but I wasn’t going to put up with her shit through the winter or spring semester. I’d already dealt with it for too long. “Your attitude has been a problem all year, and it stops right now. If you can’t deal with me, you need to get off this bus. Decide, Lisa. Start being someone who lifts her teammates up instead of tearing them down.”

She scoffed. “I don’t do that.”

“Really? Then why did you have your boyfriend publish this article?” I gave her a hard look. “I’ve always had your back, even when you didn’t deserve it, but you’ve never had mine or anyone else’s. We’re a united team.” I flung my hand at the door. “Last chance. Get on board or get off.”

She clearly didn’t like me challenging her. “I can’t with you! You fuck a guy from Michigan!”

The bus went silent. Our uniform came with strict guidelines. We were ambassadors of the university and needed to behave appropriately. Swearing was a big offense, and thank God she’d been on the bus while she did it and not near the media or the fans.

“I guess this is goodbye then,” I said finally.

For a long moment, she didn’t do a thing. Was she in shock? She looked stunned as she slowly collected her bag and moved to get off the bus. A few people clapped and she glanced around, trying to incinerate people with her glare. “Eat a bag of dicks.”

She plodded angrily down the stairs and disappeared.

I sank down into a seat beside Sean, a junior. He watched Lisa through the window, and then turned his attention to me. A smile widened on his face. “You tell your parents yet? About him going to Michigan?”

I nodded.

“Wow, and I thought coming out was hard. If my dad had a choice between me being gay or me dating a girl from Michigan . . . he’d probably choose gay.”

-37-

KAYLA

Once I got settled, I turned my phone on and scrolled through the messages from Jay.

Jay: Can we talk?

Jay: I’m sorry I was a dick.

Jay: Will you let me know you made it home okay?

I felt bad. I didn’t want him to worry, but I’d been in a rough place last night. I’d inherited my mother’s temper and my cooler head was prevailing now. The next text was a picture of a tofurkey loaf.

Jay: What can I do? Will it help if I eat this?

From the timestamps, he’d been up late.

Jay: Kayla. I need to know you’re okay.

Oh, man. Guilt curled in my stomach. There was one more message, sent this morning.

Jay: Need to ask a favor. Watch for a sign when you get into Michigan.

I sat back in my seat, wondering what he was talking about. I tapped out the response, knowing it probably wouldn’t get to him until the game was over.

Me: Sorry I didn’t see these last night. I got home fine and we can talk about it later. Good luck today!

And I genuinely meant it.

I’d just wished for a Michigan player to have a good game, and one against OSU. Maybe there was hope for me yet.

The drive on the bus was completely different than my car rides yesterday. Fans drove alongside us, honking horns and waving as they sped by. Homemade banners were draped on the sides of overpasses and, as we crossed the border, they became less pleasant. My personal favorite was “You can’t spell C_CK_ _CKER without OSU.”

When we’d done this drive my sophomore year, it’d been on Friday night. The Game was typically played with an 11:30 kickoff, but like they did with 2006, the start time was pushed back. Everyone wanted to watch. Maybe the entire nation.

Was Jay nervous?

He had so much confidence, but this game was huge. I was nervous for him.

We were twenty miles from the stadium when I saw it, not expecting the ‘sign’ to literally be one. A white sheet fluttered over the side of the overpass, and I was so busy reading, I almost missed the guy standing behind it.