Chapter 31 Chapter Thirty One
Chapter 31 Chapter Thirty One
Nat’s POV
The roar of the crowd pressed in from all sides as I jogged out of the tunnel, my shoulder pads already digging into my collarbone. Jeremy stood near the coaches’ stand, blowing a whistle between his fingers. I lifted a hand, waving at him.
Then I saw who was standing beside him.
The small smile on my lips disappeared.
“Looking good out there, son!” Dad lifted a hand when he spotted me.
By the time I reached him, he was wearing that tight, don't embarrass me smile I had known my whole life.
He gave my throwing arm a firm pat. “Keep that arm loose.” He nodded toward Jeremy. “Look who came to watch.”
“You’re here.” I broke into a grin, pulling Jeremy into a quick hug and thumping his back once. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” He thumped me back, still smiling. “Grandmama practically pushed me out the door, not that I needed convincing.”
Dad’s eyes tracked the two of us, he clapped Jeremy on the shoulder too. “Glad to have you here, Jeremy.”
He steered me a few feet away from the bench, his hand still gripping my shoulder.
“So.” He glanced back at Jeremy, then at me. “How’s it going with him?”
“Nothing special.”
“Nothing special is exactly what it should look like.” He squeezed once, satisfied. “Keep at it. These things take time to pay off.”
I looked past him at my teammates stretching on the field, only half listening.
His phone buzzed in his pocket before the silence could stretch too long. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and his whole posture shifted, shoulders straightening, jaw tightening. He let out a quiet sigh.
“Looks like I’m not going to make the game after all,” He was already walking. “Have a good game, Nathaniel.”
“No problem, Dad.” I muttered it a little too quickly. I caught Jeremy’s eye again, gave him a nod, before heading back to the field.
Marcus jogged up beside me,his helmet tucked under his arm.
“Your dad bailing?”
“Looks like it.”
“Weird.” He shook his head. “Your dad never misses a game. Man’s been to every game since I remembered.”
“Guess he’s got other stuff going on.”
“You ready to embarrass State?” He didn’t push it further, just bumped my shoulder with his and grinned. “More room for us to mess around before kickoff, then.”
“Always.”
“Bet you five bucks you throw an interception in the first quarter.”
“Bet you ten I don’t.”
“Deal.”
The whistle blew for kickoff not long after, and the first half went by fast, cleaner than I expected. We drove down the field twice in the first quarter, State’s defense scrambling to catch up every time. I called the plays at the line, reading their coverage, checking down when the first read wasn’t there, all the things Dad had drilled into me since I was six years old. Except today, it actually felt like mine.
On the first drive I hit Tyler on a slant for eight yards, then again for twelve, moving the chains almost by myself while the offensive line held their blocks a half second longer than they needed to. The state's coach called a timeout, frustrated, and I could see him barking at his defensive backs from across the field.
Midway through the second, I found Marcus wide open down the sideline and let it go before I even finished my drop back, watching it sail clean into his hands for the score.
The crowd came up off the bleachers all at once, that roar you could feel in your chest before you even registered the sound of it.
“Nice throw. Keep your feet set like that.” Coach clapped my shoulder as I jogged off, and I dropped onto the bench, popping my chin strap loose and setting the helmet down by my foot while I reached for a bottle of water.
Coach crouched in front of me, tapping the play sheet against his palm, running through what he wanted for our next series. I nodded along, half listening, watching our defense line up for the kickoff instead.
Our defense forced a three-and-out fast, jogging back toward the sideline, and Coach clapped his hands once.
“Offense, let’s go, thirty seconds.”
I reached down for my helmet.
It wasn’t there.
I patted the ground around the bench, checked under it, checked the space by Marcus’s gear a few feet down.
Gone.
In its place, folded slightly, sat a piece of paper, and I recognized it immediately.
My hands went still as I unfolded it slowly.
I warned you they’d distract you. You didn’t listen. Now you know what happens when you don’t listen to me. I’m certain-sure you’ll remember this one.
See me in your dreams~J
The paper crumpled in my fist.
“Where’s my helmet?” I said it to no one, spinning around, scanning the bench, the ground, the space under the bleachers where equipment sometimes got kicked.
“What?” Marcus and Tyler jogged over. “What’s wrong?”
“My helmet’s gone.” I shoved past them, checking under the bench again, my hands shaking now. “Someone took it. Who took it.”
“Maybe Coach moved it.” Tyler glanced toward the equipment shed.
“Coach didn’t move my helmet.” I blurted it out. “It was right here, someone took it.”
Marcus looked at the empty spot on the bench where the helmet should have been, and his face changed.
“Okay. Yeah. That’s not normal.”
“What’s the holdup, Martinez? Offense is up.” Coach jogged over
“My helmet’s missing.”
“Missing how?” His eyebrows shot up.
“I don’t know. It was here and now it’s not.”
He didn’t waste time asking more questions. He barked something at one of the equipment managers, who took off toward the storage shed at a dead run.
I stood there, fists clenched, scanning the crowd, certain whoever did this couldn’t have gone far.
Mira was leaning against the fence, Ryan beside her, hands twisted in her lap, watching the field like she hadn’t just ruined everything.
Everything clicked into place in the worst way possible. Why does she keep showing up, playing innocent this whole time while sneaking around my house, my sister, my life.
I stormed toward the fence, blood roaring in my ears, the crowd noise thinning into static behind it.
I reached the fence and grabbed it, the metal biting into my palms, holding me in place.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
She flinched back like I would hit her.
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t.” I growled. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”
“Know what?” Her eyes widened, tears already spilling. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”
“My helmet,” I bit out, gripping the fence tighter. “Where is it?”
“I’ve been sitting right here.” Her voice cracked. “I haven’t moved, ask Ryan.”
“How convenient,” I snarled. “You think this is a game? Leaving your sick little notes? I told you to stay the hell away from me.”
“I didn’t-I swear I didn’t do anything.” She pressed a hand to her chest like she was trying to hold herself together. “I would never do that to you. Ryan, tell them!”
Ryan half-standing beside her like he didn’t know whether to step between us or stay out of it.
“She hasn’t moved since we got here.”
“Bullshit!” I snapped.“You’ve been obsessed. What’s next, huh?”
She was crying openly now, shaking her head. “Please… you have the wrong person.”
Jeremy’s hand clamped down hard on my shoulder, yanking me back.
“Easy, man. Not here.”
I looked past him and realized half the crowd had their phones up.
“Martinez! Get your head in the game. Now.” Coach shoved a replacement helmet into my hands.
I let them pull me away, but my eyes stayed locked on Mira as Ryan moved to her side, putting a hand on her back. She looked wrecked. Good. She deserved it.
The rest of the game was a disaster. I overthrew Marcus twice in a row, my timing gone, my head somewhere else entirely. Coach called a timeout after the second miss, grabbing my facemask and yanking me down.
“Where are you right now, Martinez? Because you’re not in this field.”
I didn’t have an answer for him either.
State picked off my third pass and ran it back for a score that put them ahead for the first time.
The sideline went dead quiet behind me. I could hear Coach yelling something, but the words didn’t land right. Every drop-back felt off. My arm was heavy. Reads were slow.
We lost by fourteen. The team’s silence in the locker room afterward was worse than any yelling.
I sat on the bench, head in my hands, the letter crumpled in my fist.
I’m going to deal with her.