****Note: Hello there! I'm sorry I've been MIA for so long. I started a new job and it's been taking up a lot of time. Since it seems like there are still a few people interested in this story (including me), I'm going to continue this. Things are getting a little complicated for Hannah after that last chapter. So, if you like, stay tuned to find out how she handles everything. And if she ever gets her makeup back...dun dun DUN. Alright, that's enough. Enjoy this next chapter.

Chapter 8

~Friday 8:00 AM~

"You're a real piece of work."

"Sure am," Tim said.

They were sitting in his truck on their way to school. Hannah had stuffed both of their backpacks in the middle seat so she was as far away from him as possible. Her irritation with his latest stunt-making her go bare-faced-and everything that happened earlier, when he…

It was too much for her tired mind to handle. The headache had yet to subside, and the pain felt like a hammer knocking on her temples. Thump. Thump. Thump. For a moment, she thought she could physically hear it before she realized it was just the sound of the truck's tires flying over the uneven pavement.

"Slow it down, would ya?" Hannah said, her arms tightly folded across her chest. "It's not a race."

"Don't like a little off-road?" She could sense him looking at her, probably with one of those goofy smiles that made his eyes squint so much she questioned his ability to see the road. But she would not look at him.

When she didn't answer for some time, Tim rested his arm on top of her backpack, and began playing with one of the zippers. He tried to play it with the beat of the song on the radio, but it was dreadfully off-key.

"Ready for the game tonight?" he asked.

"Ready to get my stuff back," she snapped back.

"All in good time." He suddenly turned off the radio and rolled down his window. The wind had picked up, and as the car sped down the road, his messy hair fluttered in front of his eyes. But he didn't seem to care. "I don't know why you're gettin' so freaked out anyway. Not like you look bad, or somethin'."

Hannah sighed, but chose not to respond. She knew he was trying to ease the tension, but with everything happening with the game in just a few hours, it was better to not say anything she might regret.

"In fact," Tim began, "some people might even find that sorta thing...attractive."

But she wouldn't budge. What was she supposed to say to that? Did he mean him? she thought. What if he didn't? What if he meant in general? Better to save herself from embarrassment.

"I always found it was better anyway, not having to worry about gettin' that stuff all over my clothes or face or…" He made a clicking sound with his tongue.

That did it. Hannah cracked a smile and gave an dramatic eyeroll in his direction. He smiled in return, this time showing his teeth. The dimples in his cheeks became more pronounced.

"Such as perve," she muttered. But when he looked at her again, he saw the amusement in her eyes.

"The biggest," he answered.

And for a short time, the worries slipped away, and she was able to enjoy the lightheartedness. Even without all the angsty moments they sometimes shared, something as simple as silly back-and-forth was enough to make her feel better. But that quickly faded as the thoughts began to creep back into her mind, how everything would change if the Panthers lost that night. What would be waiting for her at home?

The corners of her mouth fell into a frown, and she looked back out the window. Before Tim had a chance to say anything about the sudden change in atmosphere, they were at a stop sign in the school parking lot, and Hannah jumped out of the car.

"Gotta get to class early-see ya," she said, grabbing her bag.

"Alright, then," he said, his reply cut off from the sound of his truck door slamming shut.

~11:00 A.M.~

Hannah didn't make it to English that day. Over the course of the morning, the pain in her head had become so unbearable it made her physically sick. She sat in the bathroom stall for the last twenty minutes of her history class, back pressed against the door. It wasn't long before the teacher, Mrs. Solano, went to check on her, and saw the girl sitting on the tile. She soon determined that Hannah really was sick, and was not just attempting to skip a pop quiz.

She'd been in the nurse's office since.

As she lay on the tiny, pleather couch curled up in the tightest ball she could form, she felt a gentle pressure on her shoulder.

"Hannah, sweetie?" It was a calm voice with a familiar southern twang.

Hannah turned over and peered up at Mrs. Taylor. She attempted to sit up, but was told not to move.

"What's goin' on? Are you feelin' sick?"

Hannah turned over on her side and shook her head. "It's nothing, Mrs. Taylor. I just needed to lie down for a while. Then I'll be back to class."

Mrs. Taylor, however, was not convinced. "Maybe you should go home. I'm sure we could call someone to come get you. I could get Matt to drive you back before lunch-"

"-No!" Hannah sat up a little too quickly, and watched the world spin around her. "I mean, that's okay. I'll be fine. I don't need to go home."

"Honey, I don't think it's a good idea for you to…" but she when she saw the look on Hannah's face, a combination of fear and desperation, Mrs. Taylor dropped it. "Well, you take it easy today, okay? You let me know if I need to have someone take you home."

"Will do, Mrs. Taylor."

~12:30 PM~

"Did you see Erica painting her face earlier?"

"I think you should paint your face, Julie."

"I think everyone should paint their entire bodies blue and gold. That'd look so badass if the entire side of the field was just a sea of blue and gold."

"Landry, how would you even know if their bodies were covered in paint? It's not like they're gonna walk around naked."

Matt, Julie, and Landry had spent the first half of lunch debating the most creative ways to show team spirit. Matt suggested the crowd do a choreographed dance, with Julie as their guide. Julie was just about to discuss her idea before Landry jumped in.

"Maybe everyone should be naked. I mean, it's our natural state, right? We're all born naked. It's the one thing that brings us all together, everyone in the world. So let's use nudity to bring everyone together tonight."

Hannah was sitting the chair against the wall so that she had a full view of the cafeteria. She had been biting her nails, and had chomped it down to the point of blood. She felt naked and judged without all the additions to her eyes, cheeks, and lips. She'd managed to find lip balm in her locker, but it hadn't made much of an improvement. This did not gone unnoticed by the three at the table. Julie commented how fresh Hannah looked, despite feeling like crap on the inside. She elbowed Matt, and he agreed with a nod of his head.

Everywhere she turned, there was blue and gold. It was inescapable. She glanced at her phone every few minutes, though she wasn't sure what she was hoping to see.

"Hannah, full nudity-yes or no."

Unfortunately for Landry, a quiet hum had fallen over the students so that his question seemed to reach people across the room. It reached the ears of Smash, Lyla, and Tim, despite their being seated at different tables.

Hannah widened her eyes and raised her eyebrows at Landry in an effort to shut him up. But he didn't.

"Come on, you already said your face was naked. Why not keep the trend goin'?"

"Landry, shut up," Matt said.

"What? I think it's a fair and decent argument. Julie, tell him."

But Julie was focusing on Hannah, who was staring off in another direction. Her face gave her away, and Julie followed her friend's gaze until her eyes rested on the source. Tim.

Suddenly, Hannah scooted her chair back against the wall and left the table. She was almost at the exit before one of the rally girls cornered her.

"Want to sign up for the raffle at the game? Winner gets a free Panthers shirt and tickets to the playoffs!"

Hannah glared at the girl and pushed away her clip board, which had been shoved into her face.

"Who said you were going to make it to the playoffs?" Hannah left before the girl could respond.

She picked up speed as she passed the lockers, and just as she was rounding the corner, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. Retrieving it, she glanced down at the message on the tiny lit screen.

Think you could save me a seat close to the coach tonight?

It was her father. Hannah felt the knots forming in her stomach. But before she could put her phone away, another message came in.

This will be good for us Hannah. Promise

She groaned and crammed the phone back in her pocket. It was bad enough to see spirit wear left and right, to hear the chanting and whistling. But if these messages kept coming in, who knows what she'd do.

~7:00 PM Game Night~

Too many eyes, Hannah thought. Too many eyes to witness everything fall apart. Their shame would be visible for all to see, and then they'd have to squeeze by rows and rows of disappointed fans just to leave the stadium and take their shame with them.

This night would determine the fates of several people in Dillon, Texas. And for the first time, Hannah realized that it was more than just a silly football game. It meant everything. Its outcome would decide what she'd come home to that night and every night after.

The color guard was currently on the field doing their routine, and the cheerleaders were up next. The team had yet to come out of the locker room. Hannah watched as they tossed and spun the blue and yellow flags in the air while the band played a rendition of their school song.

Julie had compromised with Landry and painted her cheeks, in addition to smearing blue lipstick on her lips. She and Hannah were the only two sitting down in the bleachers. Everyone else stood and cheered on the performance below. The girls were wedged between Mrs. Taylor and Hannah's father, who had decided to show up even though Hannah "forgot" to text him back. It was a somber bubble between the two of them, though Julie was still not quite sure why that was.

"You know, Matt said there's going to be a party at Smash's tonight. Maybe we should go. Get out of the house for a bit?"

Hannah shrugged. "How can he plan a party when he doesn't even know if they'll win?"

"I don't think there's a doubt in his mind about that," Julie chuckled. "But, either way, it's still happening. And if they do lose," she suddenly lowered her voice so the surrounding fans wouldn't hear the blasphemy. "It'll be a party to cheer everyone up."

"I guess."

"So you'll come with us?"

Hannah sighed and leaned over so that her elbows rested on her knees. "Let me think about it."

Julie didn't have a chance to respond as the sound of the brass and drums increased in volume and speed. The crowd began to go crazy, waving foam fingers, tiny Panther flags, and "I love you" posters all along the stands.

Hannah looked ahead onto the field at the huge blue banner. Matt and Smash were the first to tear through it, the others trailing behind. Number 33 was one of the last to trot out, and he looked up at the stands at the adoring fans. He seemed to be searching for something, but was quickly brought back into focus as Coach Taylor screamed for them to gather. It was time to plan their attack.

"This is it," Hannah's father said. He rocked slightly back and forth in his seat, tapping the palms of his hands on his thighs.

Hannah felt sick.

Hannah was feeling more stress about this football game than she ever thought possible. A few times she even found herself yelling with the crowd any time one of the players made a mistake, or if the referee made a bad call. The whole process was utterly exhausting. They were trailing behind by fourteen points, which was already unbelievable to the viewers in the stands. This was supposed to be a piece of cake, an easy victory. But it was turning out to be more challenging than anyone imagined.

Half-time gave everyone a chance to talk amongst themselves and devise their own plans of how the team could win, the different plays Coach Taylor might try, which players needed to take the bench.

Hannah watched Tim remove his helmet and reveal soaking wet hair. He looked how she felt. They were both seemingly ready to check out. He was huffing and puffing, pouring water on himself, using two towels at a time to wipe his face and neck. Hannah wondered if he too was suspecting a loss. She could never tell with him once he was in a game. He was very good at keeping his emotions hidden, particularly when that damn helmet blocked his face.

The team had just returned from the locker rooms, once again pumped up from another inspiring speech from their coach. Tim was talking to Smash, their hands waving around furiously to keep up with their conversations. They were strategizing, no doubt. Smash soon clapped Tim on the back and jogged out onto the field. But Tim stayed behind for a moment and looked out into the crowd again. He was searching again.

Until it became obvious what he was looking for, or rather, who he was looking for.

He saw brown-haired girl wedged uncomfortably between two people, her legs crossed at the ankles. Her face was a mask of worry. But it had never been more exposed, more open and sweet. She was….somethin' else, he thought.

"Alright, let's go, let's go," Coach Taylor screamed. "Bring it home."

For the remainder of the game, the crowd witnessed the Panthers' fullback get pummeled over and over again, his helmet ramming into another. More than once he ended up on the ground, consuming a mouth full of astroturf. He'd pound the ground with his fists and bounce back up. Hannah could tell that after each blow to his body, his fury grew. She was sure that if his helmet was off, she'd see him gnash his teeth.

At one point, it seemed as though a fight would break out between the players; Tim had been elbowed in the side, and quickly turned on the player, shoving him hard on the chest. When Matt realized that his friend might do something that could cause them to throw the game, he yelled out to Coach Taylor and darted towards Tim.

Tim was in a fighting stance and gripped the other player's jersey. Eventually the whole team was on the field, and then the other team and their coach. Even a boy on crutches limped over to the mass forming in the center. Coach Taylor managed to squeeze in between everyone and grabbed the side of Tim's helmet, dragging him out of the scene. The referee began to bicker with them, and eventually it was decided that Tim would sit out for the remainder of the game. Some of the fans booed loudly in the stands, and Tim tossed his helmet to the side.

Before he could take a seat on the bench, the player who had started the quarrel shouted a string of profanities Tim's way. Something eventually stuck, and his back was once again to the crowd as he began to make his way to the center. His hands were balled into fists.

"Tim!" Hannah realized she had stood up in the bleachers and shouted. Out loud.

It wasn't that she'd said it particularly loud, it was the tone. She choked on the name as it escaped her, and it was coated thick with desperation. It rang clear enough to reach the field.

Number 33 stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. Even through his sweat-soaked hair, he could see her standing there. She looked terrified. Why? For him? Was she scared for him? He could easily take this twerp, there was no doubt in his mind.

But the way she was looking at him...If he did this, what would she think of him? He might have already thrown the game with that earlier stunt. Damn it, he thought, why do I always let them get to me?

So, he walked back to the bench, and watched from the sidelines as his team hesitantly went back to their positions, and Coach Taylor was once again observing from the side, his clipboard held tightly against his chest.

The game went on, but Smash continued to keep the crowd riled up-and his antics-as he danced and hollered chants back at them. And it had to be done, they needed the crowd's support if they were going to pull this off without their fullback.

With two minutes left in the game, the Panthers were nearly spent, and a few bent over to catch their breath. They'd managed to catch up, trailing behind by two points at 26-28. All they needed was to carry through one more play, and they'd be off to the playoffs. With this in mind, the people in the stands came to life once more, growing louder and louder with anticipation.

Hannah's father was clapping his hands together and hollering at the team below. They were going to pull this off, Hannah began to think. They could actually do it. And maybe it wouldn't be so bad if Laurie saw that they'd won some money. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe…

They were back in formation, and Coach Taylor was screaming "Come on, come on," at them again, his clipboard tucked under his arm so he could clap his hands.

"Come on," Hannah echoed quietly. Please.

And then it began, and the clock ticked away the seconds. It was all happening so fast that she couldn't keep track of the ball. Somehow it managed to make its way back to their quarterback, and Matt was searching desperately down the field for someone to catch the ball. But no one was there. In a split-second decision, he sprinted forward, dodging the heavy bodies as they threw themselves in his path.

Julie was screaming his name, cupping her hands over her mouth, and Mrs. Taylor cheered him on. Tim stood up and flailed his arms for Matt to keep going, keep pushing, keep dodging. The cheerleaders began jumping and squealing as Matt zig-zagged down the field. At one point, a player fell in front of him, but he managed to hop over the mass. He stumbled briefly, but quickly regained his balance. It was obvious that he was pushing himself as hard as he physically could.

"Go, Matt, keep going!" Hannah yelled. She fought the urge to cover her eyes. There was too much pressure in this moment. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she saw her father smile out of the corner of her eye.

He was getting downright giddy, saying "I told you, honey. I told you it would work out. Look at the boy run!"

Matt was pumping his legs as he sailed across the turf. He was so close to the end zone. Hannah glanced at the game clock-ten seconds. Nine, eight, seven...the crowd started counting down as he pumped his legs.

The screams were unintelligible when mashed together, but one thing was clear in everyone's mind: they were going to the playoffs.

Two of the players on the other team began gaining on Matt, his tired legs aching to have a rest. He was losing his momentum, but he only needed to last another four seconds or so.

"Go, go!" Julie shrieked.

Hannah bit hard on the inside of her cheek and drew blood. But the pain didn't even register. This was it.

He was so close, just reaching the fifteen yard line. The touchdown was in sight. As the two players dove for him, he launched himself onto the end zone. And just as soon as he hit the ground, the two players piled on top of him.

For a moment, a silence fell over the crowd as Matt remained buried under them. No one could see the ball. The referee jogged over, the whistle held between his lips. He gestured for the boys to move off of Matt so they could all see the placement of the ball. The boys scrambled off of him, and the referee bent down by Matt's face. Matt turned on his side to reveal the ball under his stomach.

Hannah stretched herself out as far as she could, desperate to catch a glimpse. Her heart was caught in her throat, and blood rushed to her head. The pounding began once more in her temples. She could feel the sweat forming on the back of her neck.

"Call it," her father whispered. "Call it already."

The referee stood up and faced the crowd. They waited on the edge of their seat, ready for him to raise his arms and confirm the touchdown.

But he didn't.

He crossed his arms and moved them outwards, the signal for no points. And at that moment, Matt stood up and revealed a ball beside the line. Except it had never made it to the other side. He hadn't made it.

The Panthers had lost.