Read Out of the Pocket for Free Online Page B

to tell you that.”
    He walked to the front window and peered out the blinds. “One question,” he said.
    “Shoot.”
    39
    He turned to face me. “You’re not like, interested, in me, right?”
    I laughed. “You’re my best friend,” I said. “No.”
    He pretended to wipe sweat off his forehead. “That’s cool, because I’m sticking with the ladies, you know.”
    “Duh,” I said.
    “And also, I’m pretty damn good-looking.” There was a familiar glimmer in his eye that made me so grateful.
    “I think it’s the bald head that allows me to resist you,” I said, rolling my eyes. “And your odor.”
    He smiled. “Thank God I shaved.”
    40
    We knew the first game of the season wasn’t going to be a major challenge, and going into the second quarter, it appeared we were right. Huntington Beach is just not a football powerhouse, or even close. Last year we beat them 33–10. It looked like this year would be even more of a blowout.
    In the four days between our conversation and the first game, Austin and I hardly spent any time alone together. On the field it was business as usual, but part of me was wondering if he was avoiding me after practice. I didn’t know what to make of it, but once the game began, it was a relief to put everything else away.
    We looked good, much better than in practice. In the first quarter I hit Somers in the corner of the end zone for our first score, and after a quick turnover, Mendez took a pitch out around the left side for a thirty-one-yard touchdown run.
    I felt confident, completing eight of my first ten passes, and at 41
    least early on Coach seemed to have abandoned the tier formation.
    Leading 21–0 early in the second quarter, we huddled up at the Sharks’ forty-fi ve-yard line. I looked over our guys and felt a rush of emotion fl ood over me.
    Here we are, the Durango Bulldogs, my brothers and me, wreaking havoc on our opponents together. Nothing’s better than that.
    Coach sent Rahim into the game with the play.
    “Forty-eight Tier Gun XZ Flag,” he said into my ear. Coach was putting us into tier formation for the fi rst time.
    “Damn,” I said under my breath.
    Rahim shot me a look and I buckled down and got into leader mode. You couldn’t be showing dissension when you were a team captain.
    The tier formation called for three guys—two running backs and a receiver—in our backfield plus me, the quarterback. Instead of a straight line behind me, we curled a bit to the left, like a dog’s tail.
    It was hard to know why it even existed or why Coach liked it so much, but he did.
    I put on my poker face in the huddle and called the play with the same enthusiasm as any other play. I heard a few groans.
    “Chin up!” I said forcefully, and the groans went away, quick. I looked over at Rahim, who was grinning at me. He winked.
    The play was one I liked, a chance for me to go deep to either Rahim on the right side or Somers on the left. I nodded at Austin.
    He hadn’t caught a single pass yet, and he was a decoy on this one.
    The nod meant, Give me a chance, I’ll hit you real soon .
    We stepped to the line and got set. I looked out at the crowd.
    Lights blinded me. It was a beautiful Friday night, a slight chill in the air. The Huntington Beach fans were pretty quiet with us leading by a big margin so early. There were plenty of people in the stands, 42
    but it almost felt like I was looking at a silent movie, looking out at them as if through a screen.
    Things often felt this way when I was in the zone: no distractions, just me and my brothers doing our thing like a well-oiled machine.
    I surveyed the field and saw that they’d made a change. Their linebackers were playing toward the line, looking for a running play.
    Their strong safety should have been closer to the middle, where Austin was lined up at tight end, but instead was doubling Rahim on the right side. Their other safety seemed to be edging toward the left, away from the middle, as if to key on