Authors note:
Sorry for not posting for a while. This part has been sitting unfinished for almost a month, but I just haven't found the time to write. I'll try to start publishing more frequently again.

Catch you on the flip side
/Folay


At Pittsburgh. Those two words had been haunting the players for almost the entire week, and for good reason. The Wildcats, as the team was called, had given the Pioneers their first loss the previous season, shutting down every bit of offense and scorching the defense in a 57-0 game. It had been demoralizing, and was seen as one of the root causes for the teams 5-5 season.

Still, the team seemed a little more confident with Frank as their leader, putting a lot of faith in his ability to make plays, even though his calm demeanor made some of the players worried that he lacked confidence. He ignored the doubts, choosing to focus on perfecting his technique rather than talk about it. It wasn't easy for him to talk about it, either, considering the fact that he was constantly forced to spend the larger part of his lunch alone. While he sat eating, almost everyone else had classes, or extra projects, or some other thing that kept them from keeping him company in the cafeteria. He said it was the price to pay for a later lunch, but in reality he wanted to eat without them. Not that he didn't enjoy their company, he just preferred sitting by himself. Sitting by himself and, of course, looking at Tracy Bugrow. They were in the same advanced writing class, Frank generally taking a seat two or three spots behind and to the right of her. She was also virtually the only other person that had such a late lunch, aside from a few people who never bothered eating in the cafeteria. Not that he cared, she was the only one he had any interest in whatsoever. But he didn't have the guts to talk to her. He wasn't like Oscar, carefree and confident enough that he at least tried. He didn't look like his brother either, four and a half feet shorter, and almost a hundred pounds lighter than the ripped, bearded giant of a man. He was a little envious, of course, but Oscar always said his day would come.
Amidst all of his thinking, Franklin had forgotten to look around, and was surprised to see someone put their tray down opposite his and sit down. He looked up slowly, first seeing the sweatshirt with the school logo, then the thin neck, the sharp jaw, small lips, up-turned nose, high cheekbones and green, friendly eyes.

"Hi.", Tracy said with a smile as she found a comfortable way to sit. Frank froze up. He wasn't prepared for this. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what she was interested in. Panic roamed in his head. Then he cleared his throat.

"Hey.", he responded. The conversation got easier after that.


The offensive playbook was laid out, carefully planned for every possible scenario. A mix of pistol, spread, shotgun and I-form, it was intended to confuse the opponent's defense. Coach Taylor's players knew it inside and out, as he had forced all of them to study it until they knew every play for every situation. He was proud of them, everyone taking their time to learn the reinvented offense.

There was still a nagging feeling inside him, however, as he still had not taken the time to call Verner back. The headmaster seemed to be offering everything Eric had ever wanted, a college coaching job, and under circumstances that wouldn't force Eric to choose between his family and his job. It was too perfect, there had to be some sort of hitch.

So he let his phone lie on his desk, still unsure whether he should touch it or not. But as it turned out, he didn't have to make that decision. The phone started ringing, the display showing a number he didn't recognize. Slowly, almost trembling, he picked up the phone and slid his thumb across the screen to answer.

"Taylor.", he said.

"Ah, good day coach!", a happy sounding man said at the other end of the line. "Adam Bugrow here." Taylor's heart almost stopped as the football team's main sponsor introduced himself. He'd met the man in person once, coming to the conclusion that 'At least it's not Buddy Garrity.' Still, the man was the owner of several profitable businesses, and according to a lot of people had a tendency to behave in accordance.

"What can I do for you Mr Bugrow?", Eric wondered, silently worrying that Bugrow was about to take over the role that Buddy had occupied in his life for so many years.

"Oh, nothing much, I was just wondering whether or not you and the team are gonna show up for the barbeque?" Adam didn't sound pushy or intimidating, but rather like a man making gentle conversation whilst inviting a friend over for dinner.

"What barbeque?" Eric hadn't heard anything about such a thing, and as per usual didn't like not knowing things.

"Traditional end of summer party, with barbeque." The man on the other end of the phone cleared his throat. "Surely you remember from last year?" Eric nodded as the man spoke. He did remember a barbeque at the Bugrow mansion the year before. He just didn't remember that it was supposed to be an annual thing.

"Of course.", he finally said. "Should I extend the invitation to their families as well?" Eric hoped that he didn't misremember that part.

"Oh yes, the more the merrier." Bugrow kept his happy tone. "I'll see you there then."

"Yes, Mr Bugrow, see you." The call ended. Eric just stood there. His mind had started trailing off toward calling Verner again. But he didn't. Instead he put his phone in his pocket, picked up his playbooks and headed out onto the field.

That Thursday's practice was a lot calmer and shorter than usual, but was still watched by a crowd of almost fifty people. The Bugrow daughter and her cheerleader friends sat in the first row of the stands, clapping and whistling to encourage the players. A few other students were also there, including Nicole and her older friend Kara, both waving at Jason when he finally got a chance to practice.

When Eric had seen enough of the offense running his plays and the defense playing solid, he gathered everyone around in a huddle, close enough to where he could speak in a normal tone.

"I'm gonna keep this short.", he started, looking around at the players and coaches. "You all know who we're facing tomorrow, and you all know they're a tough team. But the way you guys are practicing, how you're carrying yourselves on that field, that doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that they beat us last season. It doesn't matter that they're favorites for state. It doesn't matter that everyone is counting us out. What matters is that if you play to the best of your ability, the way you all have been this entire week, then we'll beat them." He looked at the players, all of them sharing the mixed expression of confidence and fear. Eric cleared his throat, and continued.

"Tomorrow we're gonna show those little kittens who the best team really is." The young men all nodded, agreeing. "Clear eyes. Full hearts."

"Can't lose!"


The elder Price brother had just gotten back from the gym when Frank got home. He was standing in the kitchen, cooking up a chicken stew and rice, trying his hardest to actually make something with actual nutritional value for his brother to eat.

"Hey bro!", he shouted as he heard Frank close the door.

"What's cooking?", Frank responded.

"Chicken and stuff." Oscar turned around just as Franklin entered the kitchen and sat down at the table. "Ready for tomorrow?"

"I guess." The younger brother shrugged, then got a text message and picked up his phone, seemingly excited.

"And school was good?", he said as he set the table, trying to get a glimpse at the screen of Frank's phone. Then he saw the name 'Tracy' at the top of the conversation, and gave a little smile that was hidden by his beard. "Thought you were going after that Nicole girl." He nodded at the phone when his brother looked up, confused.

"Nah." Frank shook his head. He'd been interested in Nicole for a brief moment, before it became clearer and clearer that she was so much more interested in Jason, who in turn was entirely oblivious to the whole situation.

"Wow.", Oscar said as he tasted the stew to determine whether or not it was ready. "A starter for barely a week and you're already turning into a dick."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Frank looked up with a raised eyebrow while Oscar put the food on the table.

"You know, sleeping around, being a general dick." The large, bearded brother put food on his plate and started eating, using only a fork. "Perpetuating the stereotype."

"I'm not sleeping around." The smaller one frowned whilst putting food on his own plate.

"You expect me to believe you didn't fuck that Nicole girl?" It became Oscar's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Yes. We're friends, nothing more."

"Bullshit."

"Fuck you. She likes Jason." Frank filled his mouth with so much food that he couldn't speak, and looked angrily at his brother.

"Oh. That sucks." Oscar leaned back, looking at his empty plate, considering taking some more food. "Sorry." His sorry seemed to soften Frank up again, and he swallowed before speaking.

"It's alright." He shrugged. "She's cool anyway."

"That's good." The idea to take more food was shot away in Oscar's brain, he'd taken enough on his first go. "So who's Tracy?"

"From the writing class." Frank was still eating, not looking up at his brother.

"Nice?"

"I guess. She's a cheerleader though, so she might turn out to be a bit stupid.", he said, causing Oscar to laugh. Franklin looked up. "What?"

"At least I was right about one thing." He cleared his throat. "You are perpetuating the stereotype."

They shared a smile as Frank finished his second plate and Oscar lit a cigarette.


Jason was unable to sleep. The night before the game that would most likely determine the rest of the season, and he had more than ever to think about. Late homework, sloppy test results, not getting to actually play. And her. Nicole. Her interest in him had been brought up by Steve when they were heading home after practice, claiming that she'd only been looking at Brooks for the entire thing. Still, the running back had a knack for blowing things out of proportion, so Jason needed a more reliable source.

'U awake?', he wrote to Franklin. The clock showed 0.37. It took 2 minutes for an answer to arrive.

'What have we said about spelling?', Franklin wrote back.

'Sorry. Have a question.'

'About...?' Jason smiled slightly. Even in text form Frank managed to sound sarcastic.

'Nicole. Think she likes me?' He put the phone on his chest as he waited for a response.

'Really dude? Of course she does.'

'How do you know that?' He still had his doubts.

'We'll talk tomorrow. Need my sleep.' And with that, the conversation was over for the night.


Under Armour Nitro shoes. High, white socks. White pants with green details. Quarterback pads. A white shirt with the number 13 in green on the back. A playbook wristband on the left wrist. Taped fingers on the left hand. An AiR XP helmet.

Frank Price was ready. He was wearing his armor. He had prepared himself. The Pioneers were going to win.

It was the first time in his life that he could remember feeling that confident. He didn't know if he liked the feeling, but he could see that his teammates took inspiration from seeing him so focused.

There were barely any cheers when they ran out onto the field, just faded applause and a few screams from the people that had made the trip. There were also a few boos. Frank fazed it out, focused on staring the opposing quarterback dead in the eye during the coin toss. The won, and deferred to the second half.

It was impossible for both Frank and Coach Taylor to sit down during the kickoff. The Wildcats returner managed to get to his own forty before Jason Brooks, second string safety and member of the kicking team, laid the returner out with a hit so hard it cast an echo throughout the stadium. When it was done, Jason simply stood up, looked down at the opposing player, and grunted at him before walking toward the sideline, receiving pats on the helmets and words of praise as he arrived.

Then it was the actual defense's turn. To everyone's surprise, they actually managed to hold the 'Cats to a field goal on their first possession, something that hadn't happened until the fourth quarter of the game the year before.

The Pioneers first return ended in a touchback, and then Frank was up.

Midway through the fourth quarter, the game was tied at 27-27. Neither defense had been able to cause a 3 and out or a turnover, leading to at least a field goal on every single offensive drive.

The Wildcats had the ball, and were starting to look tired. Frank was also tired where he stood on the sideline, but he would never admit that, not when there was a game to worry about.

He was brought out of his thoughts as Jason substituted one of the corners. It made him wrinkle his eyebrows in confusion before he straightened his face out, realizing that Coach probably had a plan.

The Wildcats snapped the ball. A pass went straight through Jason's zone and ended up gaining 15 yards. Frank nervously scratched his neck, trying to remain calm with his inexperienced friend on the field.

Another play. Again blown coverage. 20 yards. Frank got irritated, Brooks usually covered better than that in practice. Then he saw it. The Pioneers defense were lined up in the nickel. Brooks had a role covering over the middle. Or at least, that was what it was supposed to look like. The play was a defensive fake, meant to look like zone coverage when it really was man-to-man. If it worked, it would be brilliant.

Time seemed to slow down during the play, the Wildcat Quarterback prodding around in the backfield, looking for an opening. He saw what looked like one, and threw. It was bait. Jason seemed to come leaping out of nowhere, ending up in front of the ball and wrapping as much of his body around it as he could, all while still in the air. He got the interception. As he landed, the Coach turned to Frank.

"Keep playing like you have been, and we'll win this." The coach's usually stern eyes had a new fire in them, a happy sort of intensity. "Win me this game." Frank nodded, and Taylor slapped him on the shoulder. Then Frank went out onto the field with his offense, and won.