The Captain's Dirty Little Secret

Chapter 137: Chapter 137 - Football State Qualifier

Zac moved before anyone called for him.

”Dylan.”

Mason got there a step behind him.

Dylan had one hand on the ball and both hands near his ankle a second later, jaw locked so tight the muscles stood out under his helmet. He tried to sit up, then dropped back with a sharp breath.

The Jaguars pushed themselves up around him.

One looked down for half a second, then away.

Another turned and jogged off, but Zac caught the look in his eyes first. Hard. Angry. No sympathy. Just game.

The Briarwick sideline had gone dead quiet.

Then the trainer came running.

Zac crouched near Dylan. ”Can you stand?”

Dylan looked angry before he looked hurt.

That answered it.

The trainer touched his leg.

Dylan grabbed the front of his jersey and swore through his teeth.

Zac’s stomach tightened.

The trainer and an assistant helped him up. Dylan tried to put weight on it and almost went down again.

The silence on the Briarwick side thickened.

Zac could hear his own breath inside his helmet.

Before Dylan crossed the white line, he looked back at Zac.

”Win it.”

Zac nodded once.

The ball was at the Northview eighteen.

Two minutes left.

Briarwick was down by five.

Dylan was out.

Zac went back to the huddle.

The backup receiver looked pale.

Zac saw it right away.

The boy was staring at the spot where Dylan had gone down, like the field had gotten bigger the second Dylan left it. His mouthguard trembled once between his teeth.

Zac grabbed his shoulder pad. ”Run the route. I’ll put it there.”

The boy nodded fast.

Mason leaned close. ”They’ll bring pressure now.”

”Let them.”

Zac looked across the huddle.

This was where trusting the team had to mean something.

He could no longer throw to Dylan.

He could no longer wait for one player to save the drive.

The Jaguars would expect panic. They would expect him to run early or force the ball to the wrong place. They would expect the backup receiver to shrink.

Fine.

Let them expect it.

The next play went to the running back.

He took the ball and drove straight into the line. A Jaguar hit him high. Another wrapped his legs. He still twisted forward for four yards before they pulled him down.

He got up breathing hard, eyes wide, but he slapped the ball into the ref’s hands like he had meant every inch.

Second down.

Zac looked at the backup receiver before they lined up.

The boy’s hands flexed once.

Zac gave him a small nod.

Just run it.

The snap came.

The Jaguars rushed hard.

A defender came free on the right, face twisted behind his facemask, arms reaching.

Zac felt the heat of him closing in.

He planted anyway.

The backup receiver turned at the nine yard line.

Open enough.

Zac threw.

The ball hit his hands.

For half a second, the whole stadium seemed to hold its breath.

Then the boy held on.

He got dragged down at the nine yard line.

First and goal.

Briarwick was nine yards away from winning.

The backup receiver stayed on the ground for a beat, clutching the ball against his chest like someone might take it back. Then Mason grabbed his jersey and hauled him up.

The Briarwick sideline erupted around them.

Northview’s defenders were furious now. One slapped both hands against the side of his helmet. Another shouted at the corner who had given up the catch. Their linebacker stared at Zac like he wanted to be the one to end the drive with his hands.

The clock ran under a minute.

Coach Hayes called timeout.

Zac walked to the sideline.

His legs felt heavy now.

His right side burned.

His shoulder had a dull ache every time he lowered his arm.

Hayes looked him straight in the eye. ”They expect the run.”

Zac nodded.

”You see the edge?”

”I see it.”

Hayes held the play sheet against his chest. ”Take it when it opens.”

Zac ran back out.

The Ravens lined up like they were going to run straight up the middle.

Northview crowded the middle to stop it.

Zac set his hands under Mason.

The stadium noise pressed against his helmet.

Mason glanced back between his legs. ”Ready?”

Zac flexed his fingers once.

He pictured it before the snap.

Running back crossing his face.

Line crashing forward.

Linebacker following the fake.

Corner coming late.

Goal line to the right.

One cut.

One hit.

Keep the ball high.

Cross the line.

His pulse slowed for one strange second.

Then everything sharpened.

”Ready,” Zac said.

The ball snapped.

Zac held it out to the running back.

Northview rushed inside.

Good.

Zac pulled the ball back and ran right.

The edge was there.

His legs were already heavy, but he drove through it. The linebacker fought free and reached for him at the five. Zac shoved him off with one arm, barely keeping his balance.

The corner came next with his face twisted in effort.

Zac lowered his shoulder straight into him.

The hit snapped through his whole body.

A hand caught his jersey.

Another wrapped around his waist.

He felt himself tipping.

So he threw the ball forward with both hands and stretched until his ribs screamed.

The whistle blew.

For one terrible second, nobody reacted.

Then the referee threw both arms up.

Touchdown.

The Briarwick sideline exploded so hard it felt like the whole field moved.

Zac hit the ground and stayed there for half a second, chest heaving, fingers still locked around the ball. His entire right side burned. His legs shook when he tried to breathe.

Then Mason got both hands under his shoulder pads and hauled him up.

Around them, the Jaguars looked wrecked.

One defender slapped the turf. Another stared at the scoreboard with pure rage in his eyes. Their corner ripped his gloves at the wrist and shouted toward his sideline.

Briarwick was the louder side now.

The extra point went through.

Ravens 21.

Jaguars 19.

There were still seconds left.

Northview had one last chance.

Zac stood on the sideline with his helmet pressed against his ribs as the defense ran out.

His body wanted to fold forward.

He forced himself to stand.

Kyle lined up across from the slot receiver.

The Jaguars tried the middle once.

Incomplete.

They tried the sideline.

Caught, then shoved out.

One final throw.

The stadium rose around the play.

Zac’s hands tightened around his helmet.

The quarterback dropped back and looked inside.

Kyle waited.

The slot receiver crossed.

Kyle stepped with him.

The ball came out.

Kyle moved before the receiver’s hands lifted.

He stepped into the path of the ball and knocked it down with both hands.

The clock hit zero.

Game over.

For a moment, Zac only heard the sound of his own breathing.

Then the team hit him from every side.

Mason grabbed him first. The running back shoved him. Someone lifted his helmet. Someone screamed that they were going to state. The sideline emptied around him, bodies jumping, hands slapping his pads, voices cracking under the stadium lights.

Across the field, the Jaguars stood scattered and furious. Some dropped to a knee. One tore his helmet off and held it at his side, staring at the turf. Their linebacker kept looking at the scoreboard, chest rising hard, eyes bright with rage and disbelief.

Zac looked toward the sideline.

Dylan sat on the bench with his ankle wrapped, helmet on the ground beside him.

He was clapping.

Zac pointed at him once.

Dylan pointed back.

Then Zac looked past the players, past the coaches, past the noise.

Roxie stood with the cheer team near the forty yard line.

She was clapping with everyone else, but her eyes were on him.

Her face was open for a second.

Proud.

Scared.

Relieved.

Then Karen bumped her shoulder, and Roxie turned back into the captain before anyone else could notice.

Zac smiled before he could stop it.

Coach Hayes grabbed the back of his shoulder pad and pulled him toward the handshake line.

”State championship, Prescott,” Hayes said.

Zac nodded, still breathing hard.

For once, he had nothing smart to say.

He had won the game.

And now he had to walk off it and face everything waiting after.

He barely made it five steps before someone with a press badge stepped in front of him.

”Zac Prescott?”

Zac stopped with his helmet tucked under one arm, chest still rising hard.

A woman held a small recorder toward him while a man beside her lifted a camera. Local media. Probably the county sports page or one of those online high school football accounts that posted scores before the buses even left the parking lot.

Coach Hayes came up behind Zac and squeezed his shoulder once. ”Two questions. Then he’s mine.”

The woman smiled fast. ”Zac, you were down ten early, then Dylan Martinez left the game on the final drive. What changed for you?”

Zac looked past her for half a second.

The field was still full of bodies. Players hugging. Coaches shouting. Parents pushing close to the fence. The band blasting somewhere behind the stands. The cheer team gathering near the sideline, glitter catching under the lights.

His lungs still hurt.

His ribs hurt worse.

But his eyes went to Mason first.

Mason was near the bench, helmet off, hair wet with sweat, one hand still taped badly. He was laughing while one of the linemen shoved him in the chest.

Then Zac saw Kyle across the field, still breathing hard, his jaw clenched even after the win.

Dylan sat on the bench with his ankle wrapped, watching everything like he hated being stuck there.

Zac looked back at the recorder.

”We stopped playing like one mistake meant the game was over,” he said. ”That’s what changed.”

The reporter leaned closer.

Zac wiped sweat from his jaw with the back of his wrist. ”Northview hit us early. They studied us. They made us earn everything. But everyone did their part.”

He paused, breathing through the ache in his side.

”So yeah, I ran the last one in,” Zac said. ”But that drive was everybody. That’s why we’re going to state.”

For a second, the woman only stared at him.

Then her smile widened. ”That was strong. One more. What does going to the state championship mean to you?”

Zac looked toward the scoreboard.

Ravens 21.

Jaguars 19.

The numbers still looked unreal.

”It means we get one more week together,” he said. ”One more game. That’s all any team can ask for right now.”

The camera flashed.

Zac blinked.

”Can we get a photo?” the man asked.

Coach Hayes made a sharp motion with his hand. ”Mason. Kyle. Bring Dylan over if he can stand.”

Dylan looked annoyed before anyone even reached him.

Two assistants helped him up anyway. He waved them off after the first few steps and leaned most of his weight onto one leg.

”Smile,” Mason said, grabbing his shoulder.

Dylan glared at him. ”Touch my ankle and I’ll punch you.”

Kyle stepped in on Zac’s other side, still holding his helmet by the facemask.

The camera guy backed up. ”Quarterback in the middle.”

Zac almost rolled his eyes.

Mason shoved him lightly. ”Center of attention. Live your truth.”

”Shut up,” Zac muttered.

The flash went off again.

Then again.

The first picture was serious. The second was ruined because Mason said something under his breath and Kyle barked out a laugh. Dylan looked irritated in both, which probably made it better.

For one strange minute, it felt easy.

Boys around him. Sweat and dirt on all of them. The scoreboard behind them. The win still loud enough to cover everything else.

Then the crowd thinned.

The sideline started clearing.

Parents moved closer.

And Zac saw his family coming toward him.

His mother came first, coat buttoned neatly, hair smooth, face arranged for public use. Beside her walked a man holding a camera bag.

Of course.

She had brought a photographer.

His father followed half a step behind her, eyes moving over the field with open disappointment. He looked at the students still shouting near the fence, the players with grass on their uniforms, the coaches barking instructions, the cheerleaders taking pictures near the sideline.

His mouth tightened like the entire place offended him.

Nathan walked beside him in his clean jacket, posture straight, hands in his pockets.

Holly was with him too.

She smiled when she saw Zac.

”Congratulations,” Holly said, stepping closer.

Her hand touched Zac’s arm, light and familiar.

Zac moved back before he could think too hard about it.

Holly’s hand fell.

Zac’s mother filled the space fast, smiling at the photographer. ”Let’s take one here. The scoreboard is still visible.”

Zac stared at her. ”Mom.”

”It will only take a second.”

His father looked him over. His eyes moved from Zac’s grass-stained pants to the smear of dirt on his sleeve, then to the tape on his wrist.

”You look ridiculous,” his father said quietly.

Zac’s jaw tightened.

His mother’s smile sharpened. ”Stand straight, Zachary.”

Nathan stepped beside their father without being asked.

Zac stood between them because that was clearly where his mother wanted him. Holly hovered near Nathan’s side, her smile smaller now.

The photographer lifted the camera.

”Closer,” his mother said.

Zac felt his father’s shoulder near his, stiff and cold through the coat. Nathan stood on the other side, easy and composed, like he belonged in every family picture ever taken.

The camera flashed.

Once.

Twice.

Zac kept his face still.

When it ended, his mother checked the photographer’s screen before she even looked at Zac.

His father adjusted one cuff. ”We are leaving.”

That was it.

No congratulations.

No comment about the game.

No question about his ribs, his touchdown, the state championship waiting after tonight.

His mother touched Nathan’s sleeve. ”Come along.”

Nathan glanced at Zac. ”Nice run.”

It sounded like effort.

Maybe it was.

Holly looked at Zac again. ”Really. Congratulations.”

Zac nodded once. ”Thanks.”

She looked like she wanted to say more, but Nathan already turned with their parents.

Then they left.

All of them.

Zac stood there with his helmet hanging from one hand and his jaw locked so tight his teeth hurt.

The field noise came back around him slowly.

Players laughing.

Parents calling names.

A coach yelling for equipment bags.

Someone from the band playing the wrong note and laughing through it.

Zac breathed once.

Then he saw Roxie.

She stood a few yards away near the cheer line, one hand holding her pom-poms against her hip. Karen and Angela were behind her, talking to another cheerleader, but Roxie was looking at him.

Zac had no idea how much she had seen.

Roxie’s face gave nothing away at first.

Then her eyes moved over him, slower.

All he wanted right then was to cross the space between them, take her face in both hands, and kiss her where everyone could see.

He wanted it so badly his fingers tightened around his helmet.

Roxie looked at him like she knew.

Then Karen said something beside her, and Roxie blinked first.

Her captain face came back.

Zac stayed where he was.

The whole stadium still stood between what he wanted and what he could do.

But his eyes stayed on her.

And hers stayed on him.