The Extra Yard (17 page)

“I tell him that all the time,” Cassie said.

“Maybe you're the one not as funny as you think you are,” Gus said.

“Be quiet,” Cassie said to him. “Or I'll tell everybody you're rooting harder for Katie than for your own sister.”

Gus said, “I'm not saying another word the rest of the night.”

Teddy's mom had a sheet of paper in front of her that broke down how much money they'd raised so far from ticket sales, how much from the Internet, and how much from sponsorships they'd been able to sell to some local businesses. She took off her reading glasses, stuck them on top of her head, and sighed loudly.

“We're still not there,” she said.

“But the show's going to be great, Mrs. M,” Jack said. “I swear, kids are talking more about
The Voice
than they are about the Wildcats going for the championship.”

“This isn't about what's good, or right,” Mrs. Brandon said. “Teddy's mom is talking about what's real. And what's real here is the bottom line.”

“You kids are always telling me there's a reason why they keep score in sports, right?” Teddy's mom said. “All I'm doing is looking at the scoreboard. And our team is still losing.”

“What if we do lose?” Cassie said. “Do we just give the money we've raised to the school, and it's over for the music department and Mrs. Brandon?”

Teddy's mom surprised them all by slapping the table. “We are not losing!” she said. “You guys are going for your Super Bowl? Well, this is mine.”

•  •  •

When everybody had left, Teddy and his mom sat in the living room, music playing softly in the background. With Teddy's football season and
The Voice
planning, there hadn't been much quiet time like this for the two of them, at least not lately.

“You've been on some roll,” his mom said.

“You mean with the Wildcats?”

“I mean with the Wildcats and with your dad.”

“I guess.”

“You
guess
?” she said. “Please remember that when he first came back to town, you thought it was going to be a total disaster.”

“Like one of those disaster movies.”

“Now you haven't lost,” she said. “And it looks to me as if you've gained a dad.”

“A football dad.” He grinned. “Let's see how he does when he's out of season.”

“I know you're joking,” she said. “But the past few weeks you've been as happy as I can ever remember.”

“Hey,” he said. “It's not like I was miserable before.”

“Didn't say you were.” She had a cup of tea next to her. She sipped some, then put the cup back down on the coffee table in front of her. “By the way? I thought the whole thing might turn out to be a disaster too. For everybody. But it's been the opposite. And I think it's been even better for your father than it's been for you. This whole experience has changed him.”

“How?”

“Well, I could be the one making a joke, and say how comfortable he is finally hanging around with people his own age. But seriously? Being able to help you, and helping the team in the process—being a part of a team again—has made him think about somebody other than himself, which has been a full-time job for most of his life. All I know is, he's a lot happier person than he was when he left.”

“Are you okay with all this?” Teddy said.

“This?”

“Me and Dad. Spending this much time together. Figuring it out.”

She smiled.

“I am,” she said. “I really am. And it's for one of the oldest reasons in the book. A boy does need his dad.”

“I didn't believe that was true, you know.”

“I'm not sure I did either.”

She held up a finger, walked into the kitchen, and put on another mix of her music. When she came back, Teddy said to her, “Why
did
he leave?”

She paused and said, “Because I asked him to.”

“
You
asked
him
?” Teddy said. He stared at her. “I always thought it was his idea.”

“Right after it was mine.”

“Why didn't you ever tell me that?”

“Because it was complicated, honey. Because divorce usually is.”

“I'm a smart guy,” Teddy said.

She leaned forward, elbows on knees. She was smiling again. “I don't want to be quoted on this,” she said. “But I didn't want to be a mother to both of you.”

“I don't understand,” Teddy said.

“Neither did I for a long time,” she said.

“You're saying you needed to take care of Dad?”

“A lot,” she said. “There's a lot going on with him on the other side of that smile, Teddy. Even you must have figured that out by now, as much time as the two of you have spent together.”

“All I've been able to figure out,” Teddy said, “is that it still makes him sad, having football taken away from him the way it was.”

She sipped her tea. “He's never tried to keep that a secret,” she said. “But I do think that's why he's enjoying himself right now, because it
is
a way for him to go back to the days before he got hurt. And maybe live out his dreams all over again through you.”

“I don't even know what my dreams are!” Teddy said.

“Maybe they're not the same ones,” she said. “But I'll bet they're close enough, especially now that you're a quarterback. This whole season is like one great big do-over for him.”

“You're the one who keeps telling me he never really wanted to grow up, right?” Teddy said.

“And this season he doesn't have to.”

•  •  •

The assembly for
The Voice
was loud and fun. The kids in the gym got into it as much as the singers did, which made Teddy and the other coaches wonder how big and loud and fun the finals were going to be next week.

Teddy wasn't any kind of music expert, even having gone through the competition, but he thought the band that Mrs. Brandon had hired was really good. And Mrs. Brandon decided to act as master of ceremonies herself. She interviewed the singers before they each did their numbers and had them explain why they'd chosen the songs they had.

Katie went first, and even if you didn't know much about music, you knew that she had killed it. Her song was “Sugar” by Maroon 5, and when she finished, she got a long standing ovation from the crowd.

Teddy turned to Gus and said, “If she doesn't make the finals, it will be a bigger upset than me ending up playing quarterback.”

The kids were still cheering Katie. Cassie stood up and did the same. When she sat down, she looked at the other coaches and said, “You're all toast, no matter who ends up going against us in the finals.”

“So the semis are already over?” Jack said.

“So over,” Cassie said.

“And by the way?” Teddy said. “Whoever goes up against ‘us' in the finals? Which part of Katie's song did you sing?”

“It's all in the coaching,” Cassie said. “That poor girl could hardly sing a note before me.”

Gregg Leonard, Teddy's guy, was next. It was still amazing to Teddy that Gregg had put himself out there this way. He couldn't stop thinking of Gregg as the centerfielder on their baseball team, or the Wildcats' safety and punter. But the guy could sing. Mrs. Brandon kept telling them to stop acting so surprised, constantly mocking the idea that being a singer somehow made him less of a jock.

Today he got the crowd going by putting on a big Pharrell Williams hat right before he started. Then he bounced all over the stage as he sang “Happy” from the movie
Despicable Me 2.
If he was intimidated by having to follow what Katie had just done, he didn't show it.

He killed it too. When he finished, Teddy jumped off from the coaches' table and nearly knocked him over with a high five. When he came back, he pointed at Cassie and said, “You know who's happy right now? Coach Teddy, that's who!”

Jack's singer, Vi, did a good job with her Taylor Swift song. And Angela Morales, Teddy had to admit, did a decent job herself with Beyoncé's song “Irreplaceable.” But you could tell by the reaction from the crowd that it was game over.

When the kids had filed into the gym, they'd been given cards for Coach Teddy, Coach Cassie, Coach Jack, and Coach Gus. Each kid in the gym got to vote for two singers after Angela had finished her song. They passed the cards to the ends of their rows, and the kids from Mrs. B's music class collected them. The music kids then handed them to the teacher, who would go backstage and count the votes, while the band played a couple of songs.

When they finished, Teddy's mom brought an envelope out to Mrs. Brandon. She asked the four singers to come back up onstage. When she opened the envelope, she nodded her head and waited, letting the tension build a little more.

“And the finalists are . . . Katie and Gregg!” she said into her microphone, as the crowd in the gym went crazy for both of them all over again. In that moment, Teddy knew what it must feel like when a coach watched his team win a big game. He was sure Cassie felt the same way.

The bell rang then. The kids in the gym folded their chairs and stacked them against the wall before they all exited the gym.

“Katie is so winning this,” Cassie said to Teddy backstage.

Teddy's mom was with them.

“Just remember that we're all trying to win something here,” she said.

“We know, Mom,” Teddy said. “And if we don't make enough money, then we lose, and so does the school.”

“Amen,” Alexis Madden said.

“That sounds like a prayer,” Cassie said.

“You better believe it,” Teddy's mom said to her. “Maybe this has been a Hail Mary pass from the start.”

It had been too good a day, they'd all had too much fun, for Teddy to point out to her how rarely passes like those were completed.

I
f they beat the Brenham Bengals on Saturday, on the road, the Wildcats were one win away from a spot in the league championship game.

It meant they were three games away from being undefeated league champions.

And they were one more win after that from playing their way to MetLife Stadium.

Teddy didn't talk about this stuff in front of Jack. By now he knew how big Jack was—how
fixed
he was, even though he hadn't played since their first game of the season—on not getting ahead of yourself in sports.

But how can I not get ahead of mysel
f
?

He had told his mother he wasn't sure he understood his own football dreams, just because the whole season, at least so far, had been like one crazy dream. Sometimes it seemed like just a couple of days ago that he'd needed to make that great, Beckham-like catch just to make the team as a tight end.

Now things had turned out pretty good for him. No, that wasn't quite accurate. Things had turned out great for him, better than he ever could have imagined. And things really were better with his dad than he ever could have hoped for that first day.

His dad
had
helped him become a real quarterback, even if Teddy still thought of himself as just holding Jack's place. He was all right with that. He was. In his heart, as much fun as it had been to learn how to play quarterback and then play it as decently as he had, he still wanted to be Beckham.

It didn't mean he wasn't proud of what he'd accomplished, even if there was still a long way to go. He remembered something Coach Gilbert had told them before the season started.

“I want every one of you to make me proud this season,” he said. “But more than that, I want you to make yourselves proud.”

Tomorrow Teddy just wanted to keep this roll they were on going against Brenham. He was in his bed, playbook on his lap. He'd been studying it for more than an hour, but he now felt all studied out. His dad had told him when he was dropping him off after practice tonight that could happen sometimes, no matter how well you wanted to prepare for a game and for an opponent. Sometimes you had to close the playbook and stop, because you felt as if you had
too
much information.

“Do you feel like you're still learning about the position?” Teddy said before he got out of his dad's car.

He saw his dad smile. It wasn't the big smile he put on for the world, the one Teddy was used to by now, what he thought of as his dad's salesman smile. This one was different.

This one seemed to come straight from his heart.

“I'm still learning
period
,” his dad said.

There was a lot he still wasn't sure of with his dad, a lot about him he felt like he didn't know, even a lot he still didn't trust. He wasn't even willing to admit that he loved his dad, or would ever love him the way Gus loved his dad, or Jack loved his. Or Cassie loved hers. He wasn't sure, even with what his mom had told him, if he could ever be able to forgive his dad for being away as long as he was; if he'd be able to forgive
or
forget.

He was pretty sure that as good as things might get between him and his dad, he'd never love him the way he loved his mom, who'd always been there for him.

There was a lot to this story he hadn't figured out yet.

But this much he did know about his dad:

He was definitely getting to like him. For now, that seemed like more than enough.

M
aybe he had gotten so fixed on an undefeated season in their league that he
had
looked past the Brenham Bengals, who'd won only one game.

Or maybe it wasn't anything more complicated than Teddy being due for a bad game. He watched enough pro football on television to know that even the great ones threw in a stinker once in a while, sometimes when you least expected it.