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Later that night, after I d showered and tried and failed to put Scott, Jason, Brenden, and football out of my mind, I laid on my stomach, sprawled across my bed,
reading a Shakespeare play for English, when a quick glance at my desk revealed that the red light on my cell phone was blinking.
I had a new voicemail.
Mr. Alvarez.
My future sat in that tiny silver cell phone perched casually on my desktop. All I had to do was stand up, slide it open, and dial my voicemail. That was the only thing
keeping me from a possible career in a Panthers uniform.
So why was I still in bed?
Opening that phone and calling my voicemail meant that I would know for sure if I would ever play high school ball. That message would tell me whether or not I had
to call Brenden Clemson to tell him that he had quit for nothing. And that message could very well end my newfound friendship with him.
Just do it, I muttered as I forced myself to get up.
I picked up the phone and looked down at it in my hands. Sure enough, I had a missed call from Mr. Alvarez. After two deep breaths, I pressed the call button.
Whitney, hello. Mr. Alvarez over at Clinton Central. I know I d told you we d likely get back to you tomorrow, but I couldn t help but want to share the good news
with you. We d love it for you to become a Panther. Think it over and give me a call back tonight or sometime tomorrow.
So. I d done it.
I d proven what I d always known. I was good enough to start for a powerhouse high school football program. But I didn t let myself smile.
Brenden.
I sighed heavily and knew it was time to do this. I couldn t talk to Mr. Alvarez until I talked to Brenden. It s just--what do you say to someone who gave up their
dream because you weren t getting a fair shot at yours? How do you tell that person that their efforts, while they would always mean the world to me, had been for
nothing? How do you tell that person you re getting the chance they threw away because of you?
I didn t have the answers, but I was about to find out.
I scrolled through my contacts list until I found Brenden s name and, with shaking hands, pressed the call button.
Hello. Brenden s voice sounded rough, gravelly, as though I d woken him up.
Brendenhiit sWhitney, I blurted in a rush.
Hey, Whit. His voice took on a tone of confusion. Actually, I m glad you called. I need to talk to you about something real quick. Scott kind of called in a favor
and I feel really, really dumb doing this, but I owe him.
Brenden mistook my surprised silence as an invitation to continue.
He wanted me to make sure you know he has a girlfriend.
And Scott s hits just kept on coming.
I froze, thoughts of my news for Brenden immediately flying out of my spinning head. I didn t know what to say or how to react. My suspicions were confirmed, but I
wished more than anything that I d been wrong. Before now, there was always that slim possibility that he really did like me, that I was just overreacting like I tended to
do. But I d been right. He only wanted friendship--and football--from me.
He had a girlfriend.
O course he did.
Did you really think Scott Marino--Scott Marino, for God s sake--would be interested in you?
Of course I did.
He had asked me out. Well, apparently he hadn t, if he had a girlfriend. He probably thought he d just asked me to chill. To hang out after practice. It d been more to
me than it was to him.
Great.
Whitney?
I d forgotten about Brenden, who was still waiting on the phone.
Oh! Sorry. I was just...um...surprised, that s all. Look, Brenden, I, uh, I have some news of my own.
Everything okay? he asked, his voice immediately filling with concern. That, of course, only made me feel worse about what I was about to do.
Yeah, yeah, I m fine. Listen, I just really want to thank you again for what you did with Mr. Harrington on Friday. You have no idea how much that means to me.
But this morning, I was offered an opportunity to play football for Clinton Central.
My great confession was met with silence.
Oh. Brenden cleared his throat. Okay. Well, hey, congratulations. You deserve it. And don t worry about me, I don t regret quitting. I d do it again.
I hate to do this, Brenden, but I just can t say no.
It s okay. Really. I understand. I don t want you to say no. Look, I ll see you in school tomorrow, okay?
Oh. No, you won t.
What? Don t tell me you re going to fake the stomach flu or something because of Scott.
No, no. It s just that I have to transfer if I want to play in Clinton.
Wow. Well. Okay. But congrats again. Like I said, there s nobody I d want this for more. Later, Whitney.
I sat back down on my unmade bed, phone still clutched tightly in my hand. Brenden hadn t seemed too upset and I couldn t believe it was finally over.
I felt freedom rising in my chest, a feeling I hadn t experienced in awhile. I d done it. It was time to play. This was real.
There was nothing holding me back from lighting up the field at Clinton Central.
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