“Of all the Slate brothers,” one says, “Tyson Slate is definitely the most unique in terms of playing style. His brothers were loud and boisterous on the field, and used that positive energy to hype the rest of their teams. Tyson takes a different approach— he’s calm and controlled, which keeps everyone’s emotions in check. Some say it makes for a less exciting game, but it definitely makes for a more reliable win. His two older brothers are now playing with the pros, and if I were a betting man, I’d say Tyson isn’t far behind.”
“And of course, we can’t mention the Slate family without bringing up Dennis Slate— but only because we’ve all heard the rumors about how the drama with Tyson’s father, who is on trial for murder, has affected Tyson Slate’s role on the team here in Charlotte. He’s still a great leader, but there have been a dozen or so leaks about him seeming to be emotionally and personally checked out from the game.”
“That may be true,” another commentator says, “But with a guy like Tyson Slate, as long as he’s physically showing up, he can get by— at least here at the college level. If he wants to make it to pro level ball, he’s going to have to either make peace with his father’s situation or learn to better compartmentalize his personal life and the game.”
Soon, Charlotte is up by a touchdown, and I notice that Tyson doesn’t seem as drained as the rest of the players on both teams do as they go into the end of the second quarter. I think I understand what those commentators mean, now— the rest of the team is playing with their bodies and their hearts, and it’s wearing them down. Tyson is playing with his body alone, and while he’s talented enough to get away with it, it’s still clear he could give more—
I jump when Trishelle’s face appears on the screen right as the network goes to commercial. I curse, realizing I forgot to record it— my phone is in my hand, ready to go, but I was so busy thinking about Tyson that I didn’t see the obvious opportunity for a gratuitous shot of the cheerleaders. She looked amazing— her hair still hadn’t moved an inch, and she had a Charlotte Rangers temporary tattoo on the apple of her right cheek. I wonder if her parents saw it, back home. I wonder if my parents saw it— I’ve been friends with Trishelle so long that they likely watched the game just for the chance to see her in her new role.
Trishelle doesn’t appear on camera again, besides being in a few long shots or blurry in the background behind a football player’s head. I don’t bother recording them, and when she finally gets back home at almost eight o’clock, I lie and tell her I didn’t see her other than in the background, but add the caveat that I was studying while the game was on, so perhaps I missed it.
“Studying? During a game?” she says, rolling her eyes a little at me. “Come on, Anna. You’ve got to get more invested in this place if you want to enjoy it.”
“And stop studying? At a school? Isn’t studying an investment in the school?” I ask with a sigh.
She makes a face at me, then drops her cheer bag by the front door. “I’m just changing clothes real quick— there’s a party at the captain’s house tonight and I’m supposed to get auctioned off.”
“Um, I’m sorry, what?” I ask, blinking and sitting up straighter on the couch— where I am, in fact, studying (now, anyway).
“Apparently after the first game, the freshman cheerleaders get auctioned off to the football players. Seniors first.”
“Auctioned off? Like…a cow?”
“No! Like a date. It’s for charity, I think. Probably. It’s not for real or anything, it’s just for fun. Stop taking everything so seriously,” Trishelle says with an almost pitying smile. She vanishes into her bedroom, where she changes into a short dress and heels that make her taller than me— she’s just now built up to them. She grabs her purse, waves, and then disappears. I watch her go, feeling sick over the fact that one, my best friend is excited about being auctioned off for who the hell knows what, and two, Tyson Slate is a senior football player. Does he participate in this auction thing? It sounds like they all do, so probably. Trishelle— the “new” Trishelle anyway— is the sort of girl you’d expect Tyson to be with…would he step in front of her, walk away and pretend she was nothing? Would he be ashamed of her like he was ashamed of me?
Of course not. She’s the exact type of girl he would be proud to be seen with.