(A/N Apologies in advance to any folks not fans of American Football, but I had to get this out. Five chapters to go. Need reviews!!!)
Don't own Twilight.
CHAPTER 35-ALICE'S P.O.V.
"70% of the Earth is covered by water…the rest is covered by The Hitman!" was Emmett's sign on week 8. I saw my first college scouts in the stands. They got good seats! There were half a dozen of them, wearing sweatshirts and jackets from all sorts of places: Alabama, Wisconsin, Duke, Boise State, Miami, and Michigan. I got Edward to pick their brains. "Michigan is mainly interested in Will," he explained, "though they like Pat…especially since he can play both sides of the ball. Alabama REALLY wants him because they take pride in their defense…most SEC schools do…and he's earned a reputation as a feared hitter. Boise wants him as bad as Alabama because he lives here…even though they know he was born in the South. Wisconsin, Duke, and Miami just want to see what the fuss is all about."
Pat played his usually wonderful self, the Bears thumped the Warriors 35-7, and I spent the night at Pat's house being 'Bad Alice'. I was finally beginning to think I had the blood lust under control. The burn in my throat was only annoying when I hadn't hunted and most of the time it was just a tickle in the back of my throat. Another good thing: Homecoming night was a full moon and no werewolf sightings. Excellent!
Our routine was down and I was very comfortable with it. I stayed with Pat at night, leaving as he was getting ready for school. I went to school with my siblings. Pat would meet with Coach Brooks before school to watch game film. We went through the day, close but not overdoing the PDA. I would go home and spend time with my family while Pat was at practice (if I wasn't hiding in the woods keeping a lookout for danger). I liked it when Emmett had "guard duty" because him and I both would watch practice like regular humans. I would be waiting for Pat when he got home between six and seven. He would shower and eat, then we would handle homework. Homework has gotten ridiculous the past twenty years! Bedtime was our time. I'll admit part of it was me wanting to get comfortable controlling myself, but if I said that was all I'd be lying. I want him and the sooner I get myself under control, the sooner I can have him.
Week 9 was the closest game the Bears had all year if you can call a 17-7 victory close. Sanchez was sacked in the second quarter and injured his shoulder. His replacement, a freshman named William Allison, was inexperienced and it showed. Sanchez had put up the seventeen points and Pat, Will, and the defense held. Pat wasn't in a good mood that weekend. "I'm going to be taking more snaps under center next week," he grumbled, "since I have more experience than 'Billy the Kid'." He didn't like it; it meant he would be pulled from his normal safety position. The Bears have more players that could play safety than they had that could play quarterback though so Pat was going to do what he had to.
Week 10 was the last regular season game and would decide if the Bears got home field advantage first round of the playoffs. It was also Senior Night, which meant the senior class and their parents were introduced before the game. Against Patrick's wishes, Miranda was the only one introduced as his parent…not Melanie. They didn't want Pat to have to deal with anyone saying anything…not that Pat gave a shit. I stayed out of that argument. Sanchez was back, though he threw less than twenty passes and was yanked in the fourth quarter. Allison got some more work, though he didn't move the ball much. Pat came in on the Bears last series and got three first downs to run out the clock. Final score: Bears 21 Cougars 0.
Patrick was a nervous wreck the following week. Not only was this a playoff game, it was a full moon. "Fucking werewolves," he grumbles Sunday night. I sigh. I can't help it…he's killing my buzz. The boy's got magic hands and I was snuggled up on his chest enjoying post-orgasmic bliss when he muttered that. "Pat everything is ok," I whisper, drawing circles on his bare chest with my finger, "there's been no sign of the werewolves…and we're still watching. I'm not going to let anything happen to you." He grimaces. "Nothing?" he asks. I look up at him and shake my head. "No scents, no sightings, no visions, no word," I reply, "Pat you have enough to worry about." I raise up and kiss him gently on the lips and let my hand slide under the sheet to take him in my hand.
His nervousness lasted until Friday, then he went into 'Hitman' mode. Sanchez, still injured, got the Bears two touchdowns. Pat was able to drive the Bears to two field goals and Allison, while didn't score any points, at least was able to move the ball a little to give the defense time to rest. Their first playoff game they won 20-7.
Emmett and Edward did smell werewolf around our house that night (I found out the next day) however none were spotted. This bothered us all. It was like they were planning something. The second round of the playoffs, Sanchez was viciously sacked again in the second quarter. Coach Powell didn't hesitate this time…he sent in Pat. Pat played conservatively, keeping the ball mostly on the ground and controlling the clock. The Bears had a 10-0 lead in the fourth quarter before Allison got his shot. Once again, it wasn't impressive but he didn't lose the game for us either.
The Bears had to travel in the quarterfinals to play the Hawks. Sanchez, his shoulder still aching, sucked it up and started and actually played the first three quarters. The Bears won that one 21-3 and the newspapers were beside themselves. There was only one other team besides the Bears undefeated so far but Moscow not only scored more points than anyone else, they gave up the fewest. Even with Sanchez injured, the Bears were the favorites to win it all. Pat hated that…he would rather be the underdog.
The semi-finals looked more like war than football. Pat limped off the field after the second defense series after jamming his knee, then was forced out the next series after a helmet caught him on his chin and split it. Carlisle actually came down out of the stands and put four stitches into the cut. I could smell his blood, but it didn't bother me. I was over it…I think. Amber had to look away when a trainer had to pop one of Will's dislocated fingers back into place. Sanchez, regardless of the hits he was taking, refused to stop even though it looked like he was having trouble lifting his arm. The score was 7-3 at halftime.
The third quarter was almost the Bears undoing. Sanchez was hit deep in Bear's territory and fumbled, which was recovered by the defense and ran back for a touchdown. His tore his rotator cuff during the play and his season was done. Allison was put in the game and the Bears went three and out. Pat was furious. He had a large Band-Aid across his chin to cover the stitches and was pacing behind Coach Powell, anxious to get in there. On the next offensive series, Allison threw an interception and it was run back to the Bear's twenty. The defense held them to a field goal. Now Moscow was down 17-7 halfway through the third quarter. Pat, ignoring trainers, coaches, players, and the crowd stormed off the field and grabbed a couple wide receivers. They went behind the bench and Pat started warming up his arm. It's a good thing too, Allison got a total of three yards on first and second down when Coach Powell called time-out and put Pat in.
Third down, Pat bootlegged, tucked the ball, and ran for the first down. He then proceeded to march the Bears down the field like a man possessed to end the third quarter and pull the Bears to within a field goal.
The entire home side of the field…players, coaches, fans, band, cheerleaders, even the people in the concession stands…held up four fingers at the start of the fourth quarter. This was the first time the Bears would have to come behind this late in a game all year…and they would have to do it with their third string quarterback. "This is why I watch football," Emmett comments, "also why Jazz did." I nod slowly, not taking my eyes of Patrick. He turns towards the stands and our eyes lock. Those piercing sapphire blue eyes show nothing but determination. I give him a shy smile and bite my lower lip, thinking about how he looks in those clothes. He throws me a quick wink before turning back to the game.
Pat led the offense out onto the field trailing 17-14. They have 7:34 to go on the clock and the ball inside their own five-yard line. Pat throws a slant on first down to get five yards. On second down a quick handoff nets three. Pat uses his feet on third down, the bootleg that had worked so well for him in the past to get seven yards and get out of bounds to stop the clock. He lines up on first down, audibles, and throws a ten-yard pass to a receiver running a hitch. They hurry to the line and Pat pitches to the tailback on the sweep for seven more. On second down the fullback barrels up the middle for the first down. Another pass to a receiver running a hitch route gets them to midfield. There is 4:49 left on the clock.
The opposing team calls time-out and Pat jogs to the sideline. "They're trying to break his rhythm," Emmett comments. Coach Powell looks composed on the sideline as he points to a laminated sheet of paper in his hands, showing something to Pat. Pat nods solemnly. "Take your time Pat," Amber mutters, "you've got all the time in the world. Just keep working the clock." Edward nods in agreement. I look over at Tori. She's in Esme's arms and looks as nervous as the rest of us.
The Bears come back onto the field and Pat commits to running the ball. Six straight runs net us two first downs, though they also eat two minutes off the clock. It would be a forty-seven yard field goal from here, though they have 2:47 on the clock. Coach Powell calls the time-out and Pat goes back to the sideline. "How many time-outs do they have left?" I ask the family. "One," Emmett replies. I give a solemn nod. "They're in good shape Alice," Emmett comments, "one more first down and they're within their kickers range." "Even if they don't get the go-ahead touchdown, they can tie the game and force overtime." I exhale, trying to relax but it doesn't work. I know Emmett knows his football, but I can't shake the tension. "Breathe Alice," Bella whispers in my ear. I don't respond.
The Bears stay on the ground and eat another minute off the clock while getting another first down. On 1st down, Pat throws a screen pass that gets them to the sixteen. Second down they move the chains to get to the nine. The clock is still running. Third down Pat bootlegs and the get to the four-yard line. There is nineteen seconds left on the clock and Coach Powell calls the Bear's last time out.
Conversation is animated on the Bear's sideline. "What's going on?" I whisper. I can't understand anyone over all the voices in the stadium. "Coach Powell wants to kick the field goal and force overtime," Edward replies, "Pat and Coach Brooks want to go for it." "They should go," Emmett replies, "they can at least run one more play." "If they don't score, spike the ball and then kick the field goal." I huff. Pat is adamant about going for it. "Winners want the ball when the game is on the line," Emmett says thoughtfully. I remember that line. It was in that movie Pat and I watched the night before I told him my secret. Coach Brooks is pointing to something on Coach Powell's play list, as adamant as Pat is. "That's not a bad idea," Edward comments. I give him a look but he ignores me. The Bears come back onto the field. "Come on Pat," Edward mumbles, 'sell this. Make it work." I turn to ask what he's talking about, but the referee's blow their whistles to resume play.
Pat gets to the huddle as the play clock is restarted. "Wing left, 38 option right," Pat calls to his offense, "Wing left, 38 option right." "If we don't convert, hurry to the line so I can spike the ball…same formation." "Ready?" The offense breaks the huddle. Edward's jaw is taunt. I've never seen him this worked up about a football game. Pat begins his cadence. The home stands are completely silent, the visitors making as much noise as they can manage. The ball is snapped and Pat fakes the hand-off to the fullback before running down the line, cutting up the field, and twisting to the two yard-line. The clock is still running.
Pat runs back behind the line of scrimmage and is screaming "Get down!" as he makes a motion with his hands that he's going to spike the ball. The Bears get lined up and Pat takes the snap and spikes the ball. There's eleven seconds left. Pat turns and looks at the Bears sideline. Coach Powell only nods. Pat hurries to the huddle "Same play," he calls out, "but with the twist." "Wing left, 38 option right." "Gentlemen, this is it if we don't score." "Ready?" The offense breaks the huddle with seventeen seconds left on the play clock.
A "Wing" formation means that there are two tight ends and a guy lines up just behind the tight end on whatever side is called. He's the "wing". There's also the quarterback, fullback, and tailback in the backfield. There are no wide receivers. It's a running formation. On the "option", Pat is to tuck the ball into the fullback's gut as he barrels up the middle. If Pat thinks he can score, he lets him have it. Otherwise, he pulls the ball out and runs straight down the line, towards the opposing team's defensive end. If the end bit on the fullback, Pat can cut up field and score. If not, he can pitch to the tailback who's shadowing him.
Pat chooses the lesser known option number four. He takes the snap, fakes to the fullback, pulls the ball, and runs up the line. The defensive end doesn't bite, but instead of Pat pitching out, he backpedals about three steps. The wingman, on the opposite side of the play, releases from his block and gets up field before dragging across the middle. No one is paying him any attention except the far cornerback who's too far out of position to make a tackle. Pat fires a perfect strike and guns it to the wingman over the middle. Touchdown Bears with four seconds left on the clock. The home crowd is going crazy along with Pat's family and mine.
The extra point is good and the Bears are up 21-17. Coach Brooks is barking at the kickoff team not to let this game slip away. There is no celebration on the Bear's sideline. Every senior not on the field, including Pat and Will, are kneeling in a row down the sideline holding hands. Some of them are praying. Pat's mouth is set in a tight line. The game is out of his hands and he doesn't like it. Amber has her hands together in a praying gesture, leaning her forehead against them. Carlisle, Esme, Edward, Bella, Melanie, Miranda, Tori, and I are all holding hands. Emmett is cracking his knuckles. That's usually how he shows his nerves. The Bears kick it deep and it's fielded at the two. The return team makes it back to the eighteen before about five Bears snow under the runner.
The entire home stands break out into thunderous applause. Moscow high school is playing for there first state championship! My family and Pat's are all hugging each other as the players storm the field. Pat is up on some of his teammates shoulders as the crowd begins the "Hitman" chant. The band breaks into the school fight song for the third time in a row. The cheerleaders roll out a large banner in the north end zone that reads "Boise or Bust". That's where the state championship game is going to be played. The band finishes with the school fight song and breaks into "Strutter" by Kiss. Why I don't know, but no one seems to care.
The teams finish their handshakes and we pack up to leave, the band still playing. "I want to be waiting when Pat gets home," I tell Bella. She gets a twinkle in her eyes and nods. "Don't wear him out too much Alice," Bella teases, "he's still got one more game to go." I bite my bottom lip and recognize the feeling that if I could blush I would. Bella recognizes this. "Alice," Edward says from behind me, "we have another concern." I turn to look at Edward. "You do realize next Friday will be a full moon," he points out. That turns my smile upside down. "We'll make plans this weekend," he promises me, "so I suggest you bring Pat over tomorrow." I nod in agreement. He then kisses me on top of my head. "Just enjoy yourself tonight," he whispers, "and try to control your thoughts until I'm out of sight please." I giggle, unable to control myself. Oh yeah, I've got plans for tonight.