Free The Playmaker (A Big Play Novel Book 1) by Jordan Ford Page A
Authors: Jordan Ford
and fumble to a stop, bracing my arms on my knees while I suck in a lungful of air. Finn comes to rest beside me, slapping me on the back.
“I don’t know what demons were chasing you today, man, but that was good running.”
A broad smile lights up his face. I raise my chin to acknowledge his praise before standing tall and pacing around the end zone. I wish I could tell him that it doesn’t matter how fast I run; I can’t shake my impending doom.
“All right, guys, good work today.” Coach jogs up to us, the hint of a smile on his wrinkly face. I have no idea how old the guy is. My guess is that his weathered skin and lined face are a result of hours outside, coaching and yelling at his players. “I want to see that kind of energy tomorrow night, Burgess.”
“Yes, Coach!” I’m still pacing, trying to regulate my racing heart. The pounding in my chest won’t ease, and I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with my fitness and everything to do with the fact I’ve wasted half my allocated assignment time coaching Tori, working on the school work that isn’t so painful, and basically pretending American History doesn’t exist. Come tomorrow, I’ll have one week to research and write a two-thousand-word essay. It’s not going to happen, and then Miss Wilder will flunk me. I’m only just scraping by in my other classes, so my progress report will suck, which means I can kiss the rest of this season goodbye, and potentially Boise State. If the Broncos’ scouts don’t see me play, they’re not going to offer me shit.
My parents would love that.
I grimace, a bitter acid burning my insides.
“Burgess! Back into the huddle. Let’s go!”
I grit my teeth and put on a brave face before spinning and pacing back to the team. I hover behind the offensive line while they stand there listening to Coach Watson go over details for tomorrow night’s game.
“It’s going to be a tough one. We’re playing the Bears.”
A collective groan ripples through the team, and my gaze snaps to Mack. His expression is hard and grim as he takes in the news.
The Bears are from Brownridge, the next town over. They play dirty and are our closest rivals in the division. We beat them into the playoffs last year and they warned us they’d be after blood next time around. I will never forget Quaid Miller ripping into me as I loped off the field. “You’re mine next time, Burgess.”
The venom in his voice riled me, but I didn’t go after him. We’d just won, and I wasn’t about to shit all over it with a fight. I’d bumped into him a couple of times over the summer and he took great pleasure in goading me. Finn had to pull me away one time. The guy’s verbal onslaughts took me right back to elementary school in Seattle. But I wasn’t that sniveling kid anymore, and I would have taken great satisfaction in slugging him and his asshole friend, Derek Wiseman.
I glance at Mack again. His dark eyes are stormy. He and Derek have history. We’re not allowed to talk about it, but I know Mack hates having anything to do with his stepbrother. His mom married Mr. Wiseman the summer I met Mack, and he was in a pretty dark place when it happened. It didn’t help that he was expected to befriend the world’s biggest asshole. Thankfully, Derek lives with his mom in Brownridge, and Mack only has to stomach the guy two weekends a month. I don’t envy him. I hate playing the Bears, and Quaid and Derek are the reasons why.
“We all know they’re our toughest competitors. So I want you to play smart and keep your cool. Finn, you make sure your offensive line protects the backs at all costs. They are not to breach.”
“Yes, Coach!” Finn towers beside me like the freaking Empire State Building. “We got this. Right, boys?”
His line all whoop while Darius shouts, “Hell, yeah! Dem bear cubs ain’t touching our boys.”
We all grin, even Coach. He then turns to the defensive side and gives them a rousing reminder of
“I don’t know what demons were chasing you today, man, but that was good running.”
A broad smile lights up his face. I raise my chin to acknowledge his praise before standing tall and pacing around the end zone. I wish I could tell him that it doesn’t matter how fast I run; I can’t shake my impending doom.
“All right, guys, good work today.” Coach jogs up to us, the hint of a smile on his wrinkly face. I have no idea how old the guy is. My guess is that his weathered skin and lined face are a result of hours outside, coaching and yelling at his players. “I want to see that kind of energy tomorrow night, Burgess.”
“Yes, Coach!” I’m still pacing, trying to regulate my racing heart. The pounding in my chest won’t ease, and I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with my fitness and everything to do with the fact I’ve wasted half my allocated assignment time coaching Tori, working on the school work that isn’t so painful, and basically pretending American History doesn’t exist. Come tomorrow, I’ll have one week to research and write a two-thousand-word essay. It’s not going to happen, and then Miss Wilder will flunk me. I’m only just scraping by in my other classes, so my progress report will suck, which means I can kiss the rest of this season goodbye, and potentially Boise State. If the Broncos’ scouts don’t see me play, they’re not going to offer me shit.
My parents would love that.
I grimace, a bitter acid burning my insides.
“Burgess! Back into the huddle. Let’s go!”
I grit my teeth and put on a brave face before spinning and pacing back to the team. I hover behind the offensive line while they stand there listening to Coach Watson go over details for tomorrow night’s game.
“It’s going to be a tough one. We’re playing the Bears.”
A collective groan ripples through the team, and my gaze snaps to Mack. His expression is hard and grim as he takes in the news.
The Bears are from Brownridge, the next town over. They play dirty and are our closest rivals in the division. We beat them into the playoffs last year and they warned us they’d be after blood next time around. I will never forget Quaid Miller ripping into me as I loped off the field. “You’re mine next time, Burgess.”
The venom in his voice riled me, but I didn’t go after him. We’d just won, and I wasn’t about to shit all over it with a fight. I’d bumped into him a couple of times over the summer and he took great pleasure in goading me. Finn had to pull me away one time. The guy’s verbal onslaughts took me right back to elementary school in Seattle. But I wasn’t that sniveling kid anymore, and I would have taken great satisfaction in slugging him and his asshole friend, Derek Wiseman.
I glance at Mack again. His dark eyes are stormy. He and Derek have history. We’re not allowed to talk about it, but I know Mack hates having anything to do with his stepbrother. His mom married Mr. Wiseman the summer I met Mack, and he was in a pretty dark place when it happened. It didn’t help that he was expected to befriend the world’s biggest asshole. Thankfully, Derek lives with his mom in Brownridge, and Mack only has to stomach the guy two weekends a month. I don’t envy him. I hate playing the Bears, and Quaid and Derek are the reasons why.
“We all know they’re our toughest competitors. So I want you to play smart and keep your cool. Finn, you make sure your offensive line protects the backs at all costs. They are not to breach.”
“Yes, Coach!” Finn towers beside me like the freaking Empire State Building. “We got this. Right, boys?”
His line all whoop while Darius shouts, “Hell, yeah! Dem bear cubs ain’t touching our boys.”
We all grin, even Coach. He then turns to the defensive side and gives them a rousing reminder of