Travis Starnes
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Second Down - Chapter 2
🕑 Added 2024-10-01 14:00:08 +0000 UTCI was lying on my bed, listening to the ceiling fan go round and round, both tired but also not wanting to just lie here because I would have to sit with my own thoughts too much.
Today had been another brutal practice, so much so that one of the sophomores had gotten heat stroke and started vomiting by the stands. I had drunk a lot, more than most of the guys actually, and it had been hell on me. I couldn’t figure out why none of the other guys were bringing very much water with them and just trying to push through, even though we were running all day without shade in the glaring sun.
It was another on the long list of things I had started noticing, and it was really bugging me. It had been two days since the dream and I still couldn’t shake it off. I hadn’t had it again, but I could still remember every damn detail of it.
Every time I looked at my dad, I remembered the funeral I had gone to in the dream and every time I looked at my brother I remembered seeing him on court. Weirder than that, though, was that I was remembering some stuff that happened over the last two days from the dream, which meant I had dreamed it before it happened.
Like, I remembered that kid getting heat stroke, ‘cause he puked partially on the track and Coach Wilson had gotten on him for it, and sure enough as soon as he started, the coach was yelling for him to get off. The exact same words.
I also remembered all the hazing Elijah and the guys were doing to the new guys. If anything, the run-in between Miguel and Elijah on the first day had only made things worse, with him, Mason, and the rest taking every chance to get digs in on them or show them up. It was exactly as it was in my dream, except in my dream I had participated rather than been upset by it. It was like everything was playing out how I remembered it, except for me.
Today, Mason had been going off on Tyrell for practically the whole game, until he said something about Tyrell’s mother and Tyrell almost threw a punch. He would have had Connor not grabbed him and pulled him back. I wanted to say something. To step in and diffuse it, but I hadn’t.
I had been friends with Elijah and the rest since all the way back in elementary school. We had all been in the same grade, and the same class, since we were little kids, and they had been my friends the whole time. We had had our birthday parties together, we had hung out at each other’s houses together. We were our own little gang.
And I hated it.
Even a week ago, I had still been on board with all the dumbass shit we did. Hell, it had only been a month since we snuck out one night and took all the street cones they had around the holes they were fixing on Broad Street and carried them over to Main Street, using them to divert traffic into the oncoming lane, like they had done that one time they had repaved all of Main Street. I had laughed with the other guys when cars would follow the cones and then have to swerve to avoid the cars coming the other way, who had no sign or cones to warn them they would suddenly be head-on with another car.
It was obvious to me now how stupid and dangerous that was. Had there been an accident and they discovered we had done that, I could have gone to jail, but at the time, I had thought it was hilarious.
That was bad and obviously I was a jerk, but why did all of a sudden I realize how stupid it was when I knew for a fact it wouldn’t have fazed me a few days ago. It seemed crazy that this dream would mess with me like this, especially days after.
And it left me a dilemma as to what to do about Elijah and the rest. One that I hadn’t decided what I was going to do about yet. All I knew was that I wasn’t going to be able to keep hiding off to the side and hope no one noticed me and I wasn’t going to be able to join in with them.
That really only left me with one choice, but that one kind of sucked too.
I was just starting to think about how I’d go about dealing with this when I heard something, pulling me out of my head. I knew it wasn’t Joshua. He’d been in his room next to mine and I hadn’t heard him come out, and it was coming from downstairs. It took a few more seconds to realize I was hearing my dad raising his voice, which was notable by itself.
My dad had never been one of those scream at the top of your lungs kind of parents. Honestly, he never even gave us spankings. He usually went with the ‘I’m really disappointed in you’ thing, and sometimes stacked groundings on top of it.
Looking back at the moment, after my realization of what a shit I’d been, I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but I guess it was just his personality. He was always the mediator, always the one telling everyone we’d figure it out.
Which made him yelling notable. More so because it was clear he was yelling at my mom. I got out of bed and crept to the top of the stairs, leaning just on the wall out of sight and listening hard, since it sounded like they were in the kitchen and the stairs led right to it.
“… to shout. I was just saying we need to address this before school starts,” Dad was saying. “Joshua’s grades tanked last year, and now he’s been kicked out of the Y program, I’m not sure what we’re going to do. You’re having enough time with sick days, you can’t start taking off to pick him up every day. We need to deal with this behavior before it gets worse.”
“It’s probably just a phase, Tom. Besides, I’m not sure why we’ve singled out Joshua. Blake’s had his own problems and you don’t seem to have an issue with him, or did you forget the night the sheriff came home with him, drunk this summer?”
“And we punished him for that. But this is different, Heather, and you know it. He scared that woman, and if what she said is true …”
“It isn’t. She just doesn’t like him because he’s shy. If he’d really told her that, she would have called the sheriff and she didn’t. She just wanted to be able to kick him out without giving us our deposit back.”
“Come on, Heather. If this was the first time, okay. But stacked with the thing at school last year, it’s not. And you know it.”
“Why are you always on him, but giving Blake and his hoodlum friends a pass. We’ve talked about this, Tom. I will not treat our children differently just because they act different. I know you relate to Blake better cause he’s into sports and Joshua’s the sensitive and quiet type, but that doesn’t make him worse.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I think it is, and I won’t stand for it. Joshua’s fine. Yes, he’s very imaginative and I’ll admit he might not be as good with people as we’d want him to be, but he’s still a kid.”
“Which is the time he should have friends, or be out playing. He’s always in his room and when he does go out, he just wanders off by himself. I’m worried he’s too cut off.”
I could hear dad wanting to say weird, but not saying it. He wasn’t wrong. Joshua was weird. The things he said sometimes, or the way he looked at people. Like he was plotting. And I remembered the thing at school last year. He brought a note with the names of some of the other kids in class on it, and some of the kids said he told them it was the order he’d ‘take each of them out.’
The school had called mom and mom had blown it off like she always did. At the time, I just kind of ignored it except to make jokes about my creepy little brother, since word had reached the middle school, which was across the street from the elementary school and we all the kids rode the same buses. There’d been jokes comparing him to that guy at UT back in the sixties and Carrie, but honestly it had helped my notoriety having the crazy brother, so I just rolled with it. Besides, he and I had never been exactly close.
Of course, that was then. After the dream and what he’d done in it, I’d started looking at him differently. Watching him. And he was creepy. It put everything he’d done into a new context, and I honestly thought dad wasn’t going far enough.
Not that mom would listen. Joshua was the baby of the family, and he’d always been special to her. Also, I hadn’t made it easy. Like the realization I was having with Elijah and my friends, I was also having some about myself and how I’d been here too. As much as I’d been a dick to other kids, teachers, and pretty much anyone else I could find that would get a laugh out of my friends, I’d been worse to my parents.
The visit from the sheriff was because we’d set fire to the nativity in front of First Baptist the previous Christmas for .. I actually couldn’t remember why we’d done it. Probably someone made a stupid joke or something. The Sheriff had caught us and taken us to our dad, to let him settle it instead of arresting us out of professional courtesy for a fellow cop.
Mom had been pissed. She’d always been super religious, more so than dad who went to church on Sundays and special occasions but otherwise didn’t have much to do with it. Mom had been outraged. She’d demanded I stop hanging out with Elijah and the other kids and made me talk to Pastor Green about how I was going to go to hell if I didn’t shape up.
“Just … leave him be. He’s getting to that age and will calm down eventually,” Mom said. “I have a headache and need to go lay down.”
I heard mom leave, probably to their bedroom which was downstairs, and I could just picture dad standing there, arms crossed with that look he got when people were being stubborn. His cop face.
I made my way back to my room as quietly as I could. I honestly didn’t know if mom was right or dad was, although I suspected it was Dad. Either way, Josh wasn’t my problem. I had enough to deal with without having to worry about him.
***
“Alright, let’s see how it looks,” Coach Heidemann said, waving us back onto the field.
Everyone was keyed up for today’s practice, and we’d been running hard all day. Today was the last full day of practice, with team selections on the following day and school starting on Monday. Everyone wanted to make the team, although Elijah had this idea that he was somehow going to be one of the few freshmen to ever get selected for junior varsity.
He’d been good all week, there was no doubt about it, but I knew we were all going to end up on the freshman team. Well, I didn’t know, but I remember that being what happened in my dream life, as I’d started to think of it. True, it was only a dream, but nearly everything was happening exactly as it had in the dream life, which was making me not just accept that things would end up the same as they did in my dream life.
Sure, some things had happened differently, but there almost seemed to be a reason for that. Like, by this point in my dream life, I was more or less riding the bench and Gabriel was getting most of the downs, all because I got super sick that first day and screwed up. But I knew why that was different. In my dream life, I’d eaten the weird-tasting sandwich and here, I’d sniffed it and found that Josh had tampered with it. And I only checked it because of the dream.
Also true, things were different with me and the guys, but again, I think I had the dream to thank for that. Every time they started, I remembered how older dream me was treated for those first several years, and I felt bad for them. While it’s humbling for a dream to point out you used to be a horrible person, I was pretty sure without it, I would be right there with them.
Hell, in my dream life, I had been right there with them, bullying the new guys practically off the team, except for Connor, who ended up turning on the other three and joining us.
But, in that life, even playing pretty much the same level of ball, none of us had made junior varsity, so it seemed like a reasonable bet that none of us would. I was still playing hard though, because I remembered blowing my chance to start at QB in the dream life, and I wanted to do it again.
We ran out to the field and set up. Tyrell, who was just trying out for center, was in front of me. He was actually beating out Mason, who had been my center all through middle school. Not only was he bigger than Mason, a lot of Mason’s bulk was … soft. Tyrell was like a brick wall. He’d tackled me in some drills the two days before, and even going easy, it had felt like being hit by a truck.
Mason had actually been moved to the defensive team, which pissed him off to no end.
We were doing a running play, which was Coach Heidemann’s go-to move. I guess at the freshman level, most QBs didn’t get enough time to really learn passing, so a lot of our playbook was running plays, with the occasional short dinking passes. Coach Holloway did things a little differently. He liked more of a passing game and tended to throw a lot more. I think they planned it like this, a little passing in freshman, about half and half on JV, and then really breaking out on varsity, to give new QBs room to really learn the game.
It was another reason why I knew I wasn’t getting off the freshman team. They had a guy who started where I was last year and was on JV now, going through the process.
And it worked.
Wheaton had six all-district and three all-state QBs in the last ten years, which was coincidentally when Coach Holloway came to Wheaton. That was saying something since Texas took football so seriously, so being all-state here would put you in contention for consideration nationwide. In the last seven years, every varsity QB from Wheaton had gotten an offer to play in college. Sure, not all had been Pac-10 schools, but they’d all been either D1 schools at the very least.
So I couldn’t exactly knock his process.
I positioned myself behind Tyrell, looked left then right, to ensure everyone was set and ready, and said, “Set. Hut.”
There were no audibles or anything, since we all knew the plays that were happening, which was going to make this much harder than it would be in a real game, where the defense couldn’t just set up for the exact play we were going to do every time. There would be days where we did it for real, with Coach Heidemann running the offense and Coach Plummer running the defense. But today was not that day.
We were running an inside trap which, if everything was going perfectly, Tyrell would push forward into Mason, their defensive right tackle, and Connor would cut right behind him, their defensive left tackle. In theory, that should open up a hole down the center that Hunter could blast through and pick up some yards.
It started off great. As soon as Tyrell snapped the ball, he pushed forward like a freight train, smashing into Mason, pushing him back several steps. At the same moment, Victor, our right offensive guard hit their left defensive tackle, kind of glancing off him, just to slow him down a second and then pushed through to the center lineman.
Connor had already crossed behind Tyrell, and then all but missed as the Defensive Linemen sidestepped, pushing Connor down as he did, causing Connor to faceplant. This left him wide open as Hunter started to go through what should have been an opening. He did what every defensive tackle wanted to do. He planted Hunter so deep in the ground, all we needed was the tombstone to bury him.
The coach blew a whistle, already starting out to us.
“What the hell was that?!” he yelled. “This is a simple play and we’re gonna run it a lot this year, but everyone has to do their job for this to work. Nielsen, you have got to hold your block. If you don’t, the whole play falls apart. And Forde, you can’t just lower your head and expect the hole to be there. These aren’t training dummies and the defensive line is gonna try to stop us, so sometimes plays don’t work. You gotta read and adjust. You ran right into Hoffman like a damn present.”
“Sorry coach,” Connor said as Hunter pushed himself off the ground.
“Take a minute, regroup, and let’s try this again,” Coach said, heading back to the sidelines.
I had a memory of Coach Holloway yelling at us, again from the dream life. Coach Heidemann was always more composed than Coach Holloway, who would have ripped into us and had us doing laps for that kind of miss.
As soon as the coach was out of earshot, Hunter got right into Connor’s face.
“Are you a fucking idiot? Learn to do your fucking job so I don’t have to get my ass reamed over your stupidity.
I actually kind of liked Connor. He was built like an ox and I bet if they really went at it, Connor could drop him if he wanted to, but he didn’t seem like the fighting type. He knew he’d messed up, I guess, because he didn’t say anything.
Which only pissed off Hunter more.
“What are you even doing out here? Shouldn’t you be back on the farm with all your other inbred family? You’re a waste of goddamn space.”
Connor might not be the fighting type, but as Hunter kept going, jabbing his finger into Connor’s chest.
“You’re just a dumbass redneck who doesn’t know shit. It’s football, dumbass. You hit people. How hard can that be? You’re just a fat farm kid that needs to go back to homeschooling. Go back to shoveling pig shit or whatever you people do in between sleeping with your sisters.”
I saw Connor’s fists clench at his sides, his jaw tightening. This was about to get ugly fast. I actually remember the fight between Hunter and Connor, although I hadn’t known Connor’s name in my dream life. I’d been way over on the bench, but I remember Connor taking a swing at Hunter and getting kicked out, banned from the team.
Was this that?
I wasn’t on the bench this time though, and Hunter was the one instigating it instead of resetting and just running the play again.
“Back off, Hunter,” I said, stepping between them and pushing Connor back a step. “It’s practice. We’re all here to learn.”
“What the hell, Blake?” Hunter said, looking genuinely shocked. “You’re defending them now?”
“We’re all on the same team, Hunter. Everyone makes mistakes. I just want to play football and stop with all the drama.”
“What has been with you lately?” Elijah said, coming up from the side. “You’ve been so goddamn soft lately.”
“What’s up with me is you’ve been on these guys all week, and they’ve been busting their asses just as hard as any of us.”
“They’re dragging us down, is what you mean. They’re dead weight. A bunch of no-talent losers who’re just going to slow us down when the season starts.”
“They aren’t making any more mistakes than anyone out here. It’s been a week, guys. One week. And they’ve already picked up a lot. Just cut them some slack, Elijah.”
“What’s up with you, Blake? You turning into a real pussy lately. When did you become so weak?”
“What’s up with me is I’m done being a jackass. You’ve been on them all week and I’m done with it.”
“You’re done with it? What, you’re going to choose these fucking rejects over your real friends?”
“I’m not choosing anyone, Elijah. I’m just not going to keep standing by while you’re up in people’s faces, trying to show everyone how tough you are. I’m just here to play football and we’re all on the same team.”
I didn’t even really say anything, but his face went beet red.
“What the fuck does that mean? You’re too good for us? You always were fucking soft. If you’re going to side with them, then maybe you should get off the team too. It explains why you’re playing like shit now too. You should just drop out, go work fucking construction with the rest of the losers.”
I didn’t care what Elijah thought of me. Not anymore. But for some reason, that hit a nerve. Maybe it was because that’s exactly what happened in my dream life, but I saw red.
“Say that again,” I said, getting up in his face.
We’d never fought, but Elijah was a wide receiver, shorter and more wiry than me. I wasn’t Connor’s size, but I knew I could take him if I wanted to.
I was surprised, however, when Miguel and Tyrell moved up behind me, both glaring at Elijah. Miguel was also a wide receiver and about Elijah’s size, but Tyrell was a house. He even made Connor look small. I saw Elijah’s eyes flick to Tyrell for a second and then back to me. I could almost see him trying to figure out how to get out of this without losing face, because he clearly did not want to mess with Tyrell.
“Look at you,” he sneered. “Trading us in for these losers. You’re pathetic, Blake.”
“What the hell is going on here?” Coach Heidemann yelled from the sidelines. “I said reset the play. Get your asses back in formation now!”
Elijah shoved my hand away, his eyes almost burning as he glared at me. “This isn’t over.”
He looked betrayed and was as angry as I’d ever seen him. As we reset for the next play, I could feel his glare boring into the back of my head.
This was going to make things harder.
Comments
D.J. Clarke
Past of drink is drank not drunk? Sorta like people use drug instead of dragged these days. …mah grammar dyed years ago…..
Brett Grayson
Good chapter. Really like the characterization precipitated by "Do-Over" engendered memories (but unrecognized by the protagonist).
Phil
And so, the divergence of the timelines begins. It will be interesting to see how you will write unintended consequences which will appear as a result of the changes in Blake's behavior in this do over. Also, will you write the story, so the changes Blake makes cause a permanent modification in the timeline and the divergence continues to get larger? Or will a new unforeseen event occur a little later in the story to push the new timeline back toward the original timeline? I'm sure you had fun puzzling all of this out. I do hope you don't kill off the dad this time. He seems like a good guy just doing his job (probably saying this because he reminds me of my dad). :-)
David Howe
Good chapter! Please keep them coming. :)
David Howe
Ohyeah.... I really want to try my luck at foreshadowing, but I won't. If I'm right, I don't want to spoil things for others. If I'm wrong, I'll save myself some embarrassment, I hope.
