I Score a Touchdown and then Discuss Cake (Sexually)

“Hey, Seiro? What’s up?” Mia spoke in a hushed tone over the phone, her natural rasp emphasized. I had called to ask if she could possibly come to the game after getting her number from Kevin at dinner. Odd that she knew it was me- I didn’t give her my contact info.

“Hi, uh, I was wondering if you were gonna be at the game tonight? Against Burton?” Selfish as it was, I wanted Mia to see me play. Apparently I was second-string behind another senior receiver who was faster than me, but I would probably get some playing time.

“Sorry, I can’t. I’m at work- that’s why I’m whispering.” I did hear some murmuring in the background, so her excuse checked out, but I was still saddened.

“Oh- that’s okay. Is it every Friday, or…?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Tell you what, though- if you make it to the playoffs, I’ll be there. Front row and all.” Not even homecoming? I thought, but thankfully had the insight to not say aloud.

“Thank you,” I said, glad that she would be at at least one of my games. Maybe I could ask her out then? I doubted I had the balls.

“I wish I could be there mo-” A sound in the background, similar to a laugh, cut her off. “Sorry, getting another call! Bye!” My phone beeped, indicating I had been hung up on. Huh. Wonder what that was about.

The bright teal of Burton’s scoreboard was easily dimmed to a dreary shade of aqua by the pouring rain. As our bus pulled into the lot, our surroundings made it obvious that this was not going to be an easy game to win, for the following reasons.

One- the rain. It’s pretty hard to play football in general, what with all of the hand-eye coordination and strength needed. Now imagine doing it while being covered in dish soap. That’s what a rain game is like- no traction on the turf when running, linemen despairing because their palms are slipping off defenders, and wide receivers watching the ball slip like a bar of body wash through their fingers.

Two- the crowd. Burton is a smaller school, but their student section was filled to the brim in a rain game. Noise would not help our offense work, especially if it was incessant booing.

Three- the field. The grass itself looked old and tattered, which meant it would be difficult to play on. And when I say difficult, I mean atrociously difficult. In rain, low-quality grass fields were slip-n-slides of death. If you try to stop running, vwoop, the ground underneath you is in the air and you’re on your back. By the end of the game I would probably look like a different race from the amount of mud caked on my skin.

Understandably, thoughts ran through my head- images of me slipping and breaking a bone on the ground, or dropping a touchdown, or literally anything else that could go wrong in a rain game. Hell, I didn’t even mention that we’d all probably have the common cold by the next day. I tried to shake the thoughts out of my head. If I focused too hard on them, they would happen.

We started to unload the bus into the monsoon outside, and as I stepped onto the asphalt I was greeted with a gust of stinging rain in the eyeballs. I yelped and wiped my eyes, then ran over to the locker room along with everyone else. I was impressed that there was no lightning in a storm like this, which meant that there would be no weather delay. The show must go on, as they say.

“Yeesh, Cat, you see how big those raindrops are?” Danny pointed through the locker room door’s small window at the enormous ripples coming off the flooding sidewalk. “As big as your mother!” Uh… I’ll let it slide. I decided not to tell him my mother was about the size of a casket in Los Angeles.

“As big as your gut,” I retorted coyly. The sound of rain was making me a little drowsy, but that wouldn’t be enough to stop me from making some sort of comeback. “And why are you calling me Cat?”

“Cat? Isn’t that your name? I heard one of the coaches call you that. Is it short for something?”

“Yeah, it’s Ka-”

“Catrina?”

“No! I’m not a girl! Why would I be on the football team? Actually, I was gonna tell your ass, but no, now you have to guess.”

“Cat… Caleb with a T last name?” Danny seemed lost, and for good reason- not many boy names have Kat in them.

“Not close.”

“Skatowski? Is it your last name?” You got that right.

“Warmer.”

“Kattson?”

“No.”

“What’s your first name?”

“Not telling you.”

“Okay, I’ll figure it out soon.” He returned to staring at droplets outside, eyes glazed over as if dead. “Is this ‘Emilia’ girl going to be at the game?” Though he still seemed a little zoned out, a smile cracked open in the corners of his mouth. I felt my face go hot at the mention of her name.

“Ah- uh… no, uh, Mia said she couldn’t come. She… had work or something.”

“Mia? Like, Mia Karlsson?” Damn.

“Yep, that’s the one,” I groaned, ready for an onslaught of teasing.

“She’s gonna be the valedictorian this year, right? That’s what I’ve heard about her. Isn’t she, like, an über-genius?”

“Yeah, she’s really smart. She has better grades than me, for sure.”

“How do you know her? Just happenstance?” A long list of happenstances, to be exact.

“She’s in all of my classes,” I stated, purposely excluding the fact that she lives above me. Do not want to start any rumors with that.

“Doesn’t that mean you’re super smart, too? That logic logics, right?”

“I’d say I have some intelligence, yeah. Not Mia’s, but I’m up there.” I shook my head to clear my thoughts. “What about you? Surely you have your fair share of romantic affairs.”

“You’ll find out after the game. Storage room, remember?” I recalled our conversation on the bus. Wait, I didn’t say that to you, though. Maybe you just heard me? Or did 76 tell him? It’s fine either way.

“Yeah. I’ll be there,” I said, checking the time on my phone. “When does the game start?”

“7:30. What is it now?”

“6:50- crap, we’ve gotta dress!” In a state of sheer panic, me and Danny shoved our gear onto our bodies and jumped into our respective position groups.

“Yo,” he said, just before going with the linemen. “Do you trust Guerley?” What?

“Of course I do? Why?”

“Nevermind. Lock in.”

As we jogged onto the field in our freshly-soaked uniforms, I took a thorough look at the away stands, seeing if I could find Mia despite her not being there.

“What are you doing?” Mosslark quipped, slapping the back of my helmet. “We’ve got a game to play. Who are you looking for, your girlfriend?”

“Nah, was just hoping someone would be there, that's all. Why aren’t you leading the pack behind the banner?” I pointed at the large Tenth Marina High School banner, filling up like a cushion in the wind and about to burst with our players.

“Shit,” Mosslark murmured, and ran over to the front of the mob of players, his six-pack rippling with each step and his arm muscles contracting as he jogged. I wish I had that physique. He started a war cry, and we burst out from the banner as our marching band members, most of whom were covered in ponchos, played our fight song in the stands. I had never heard it before, but it was pretty catchy. We ran over to the sideline quickly as a coach called the kickoff return team onto the field- we had lost the coin toss and Burton had deferred, giving us the ball first on the opening kick. A whistle blew, and away the ball went, passing our end zone for a touchback.

I stood close to Coach Norman on the sideline, waiting for a chance to play as our offense drove downfield. Kevin, on the second play of the game, had stiff-armed a Burton defensive end so hard that he splashed into the mud, spraying brown ooze everywhere. When that end stood up, his face mask had chunks of soil stuck in the sides. Kevin got twenty yards out of it- he would go on to put that one on his highlight tape.

As the ball got to the opposing thirty yard line, Coach Norman yelled my name, looking for me before noticing I was right behind him. He jumped, frightened by my presence, but quickly regained composure.

“Cat! You’re in next play. Doubles Curl, and you’re at O-Lucky. You know it?” I quickly put the pieces of the call together- Doubles was the formation, Curl was the route scheme, and O-Lucky meant Outside and Left, so I would be lined up to the far left in doubles, running a curl route as the tight end ran a seven over me.

“Yes, sir,” I said confidently, knowing confidence was the best way to get out on the field. Meanwhile, Ian caught the snap a little low and passed to his right from the pocket, hitting a receiver’s hands before slipping through and rolling onto the ground.

“Third and six, at the Burton 31. Make some noise, Puma nation!” The announcer hyped up the already rowdy Burton student section, who was deafening even from the other side of the field. So deafening that I almost forgot I had to go run a play.

“Cat!” Coach Norman tapped my helmet, and I sprinted onto the field, yelling for the receiver I’d be replacing.

“Hey! Who’s at O-Lucky?” I shouted, jogging into the huddle. Ian turned his head to look at number 89, a six-one Asian kid with bright red gloves.

“Bai! Out!” Ian’s voice was commanding, as always. There was some sort of attractive quality to it, but now was not the time to be theorizing gay relationships- plus, Mia had already taken my heart.

“Got it!” 89, who’s last name was probably Bai, broke into a dash to the sideline as Ian called the play, which I had remembered from beforehand. He clapped, and we ran out of the huddle into our formation. My heart rate spiked by 100 beats a minute- I was actually in a game, so if I messed up, I could be in hot water with the coaches.

“Cat! Wider,” a coach yelled from the sideline, trying to fix my slightly incorrect position. I shifted a bit to my left, and looked back to the sideline- the coach had given me a thumbs up, and I focused on the cornerback in front of me. He was way smaller than I was, but I figured he had some sort of trick to deal with someone my size.

“Hut hut!” Ian screeched, sending the play into motion. I started on my route, knowing I only had to go ten yards and turn to face Ian. Five, six, seven, ei- shit! I had slipped on a soaked patch of grass. I tried to regain footing, and pushed off of the cornerback for stability. I ended up getting back on my feet at exactly ten yards, and I turned, waiting to watch the pass sail over my head to the tight end.

It didn’t.

Ian threw a dot right into my hands, and I, not expecting it at all, did my best to work with it. I tucked the ball in my arm and turned, ready for the cornerback to hit me. However, in stabilizing myself I had shoved the cornerback to the ground, and thus had an open run to the end zone. That’s why he passed it to me! I amped up my speed, and in what felt like a blur I was in the end zone, players slapping the back of my helmet to congratulate me.

“Reception by number 88 Seiro Katsume. Touchdown, Wildcats.” I ran off the field as the PAT set up and ran into Ian as I headed for the film tent, where we would review the ups and downs of our last drive.

“Good catch,” he said, his scratchy voice reverberating in my ears. His helmet tilted. “Was that a bit too far to the right for you?”

“Oh- no, not at all! That was a great pass, Ian.” He nodded slightly in response and walked off, presumably to talk to the other receivers about their catches. Is that how he’s gotten so good? Feedback? I considered it for a moment before getting dragged into the film tent by Danny, who was still hyped that I had scored my first touchdown.

“Yeah, buddy! Light weight!” He shouted, slapping my shoulder pads as I sat down. What does that even mean?

“Thanks?” I replied, not quite sure what the appropriate response would be.

“Danny! Get some snaps with Mosslark,” Coach K commanded, his voice forgiving but a little irked. Due to the rain, Danny’s snaps weren’t as good as they could’ve been.

“Got it,” he said, backpedaling out of the tent to find Ian. I sat there, still a bit shocked that I had scored the first touchdown of the season. Put that in some sort of bucket list- ‘score the first touchdown of a Varsity regular season’ has a ring to it.

In hindsight, that phrase had no ring to it, but it was cool in the moment.

I was slated to go in on the next offensive drive, but unfortunately for me, that wouldn’t come until much later- the defense picked off and returned two touchdowns in a row, turning the rain game into a typhoon of misery for Burton. By the time the offense had their next drive, Bai was back in to get some playing time for scouts, since we were probably going to win the game no matter what. Either way, I was content to watch, since I knew I had done my job.

“Hey, Cat,” Danny called, standing a few feet away from me on the sideline. “Ass or tits?”

“Why are you like this, Danny Perezosas?” I rolled the R in his name extra hard for effect. Speaking of rolling things, my eyes were doing it too. “Uh… personality?”

“Invalid answer.” Fair enough, but...

“Isn’t this a bit misogynistic?”

“Answer the question.”

“Ass, then. I don’t really care about… you know, chest size?” I gestured toward my torso, cupping my hands above my pads.

“You hear this, King? Cat’s into ass. Biggest news today.” I eyed who Danny referred to as King and was surprised- it was number 76, from the bus! King is a fitting name for a 5’ 11” 350 pound Chinese dude.

“Cat, you’re an ass guy? Now, me personally-”

“I don’t care about your Double-D sized appetite,” Danny interrupted, cutting King off. “Does she have cake? Mia, I mean.” My face inexplicably warmed up, making me feel steamy in the harsh rain.

“Um… I… guess?” I hated to admit it, but Mia did have fairly large glutes. “Not that she ever wears anything other than sweatpants.” My tone went slightly sour, which Danny sadly picked up on.

“How caked up? Like, give me an example on the team.”

“Hmmm…” I thought for a moment before looking around. I quickly located someone who would make a great example. “Ian! Come here.” He jogged over from where he was and slowed to a halt- by this point, his backup QB was in, so he was free to relax as well.

“What’s up?” He asked, seeming genuinely intrigued. If only he knew what I was about to do to him.

“Sorry, but I need you to turn around so I can… ugh, nevermind…” I was too nervous to publicly humiliate myself and Ian, but I would be forced to anyway.

“You can’t back out now, Cat!”

“Fine! Ugh, I just need you to turn around so they can see your ass. Sorry.” Oddly complacent, Ian faced the other direction, giving us a good look at his glutes.

“Damn! Ian has some crazy ass!” Danny almost stepped back in shock from how curvy Ian happened to be. Getting more comfortable with being an absolute weirdo, I gave a demonstration to Danny and King.

“Actually, that’s really close to what it looks like. And you see this?” I clasped my hands on Ian’s waist to show how much wider his ass was than his hips, but he jumped in surprise before I could continue, an odd sound bubbling out of his throat. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I'm so, so, so sorry!” I squatted, my hands over my mouth in shame. I just caressed another man’s waist. Kill me now, whoever’s up there in the clouds.

“Oh- I’m sorry, too, Ian- I suggested it!” Danny began prostrating himself on the wet grass, soaking his already muddy knee pads. The most worrying part about the ordeal wasn’t our shame- it was that Ian didn’t even accept our apologies. He just walked away briskly, heading to the film tent. I looked at Danny, and Danny looked back.

“We’re screwed,” I said.

His response was simple enough, and a means to an end at that. He smiled coyly.

“We're just gonna pretend this didn't happen."