Chasing Jonah Mchale

chapter eleven

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When the play clock buzzes, it's as my cleats meet the turf. I stumble, rolling onto my back and colliding hard with the ground under me. The football is clutched safely in my arms though, and as I pant and blink the sweat away from my vision- it dawns on me that I've crossed the goal line in possession of the ball.

The bleachers are roaring. They connect the dots before I do.

I've scored a touchdown, we means we've won tonight game.

I won tonight's game.

Like a rush of wind, the sounds of the stadium are exacerbated in my ear drums. I hear the sound of my teams cheering, they rush over and lift me to my feet. The marching band has been ignited, the cheerleaders wave their Pom Poms wildly in the air as they chant, "We are the falcons!"

I can't wipe the stupid smile off my face as Leo and Gabe hoist me up onto their shoulders.

"See this is why I fucking love you!" Gabe roars, his hair is slick with sweat and dripping into his eyes, still I've never seen him more invigorated. His cheeks are flushed his eyes are wild.

But it's my mom and dad who catch my attention, jumping up and down from the fence. My moms' blinking away tears, my father is smiling like he hasn't smiled in years.

I know it may sound stupid. To take high school athletics so seriously, but for us- the people who sacrifice everything to be the best, these moments of relief, when months of training, enduring pain, god, fucking taking pills- succeeds- it means something so much bigger than I can put into words.

My body is sore but I limp over to fence when I've been set back down to the ground. I tug off my helmet, my sweaty hair is plastered to my forehead and sweat is dripping down the slope of my nose, but my mom doesn't care.

Her nose, red from the cold is pressed to my skin as she kisses me on both cheeks. She holds my face in her hands, her fingers frigid and ice cold. "Look," she says, with a nudge of her chin. I follow her gaze, past the rest of students and family members, and my eyes settle on recruiters, who are whispering discreetly to one another. When they catch my eye they nod curtly. One of their lips twitches up in a smile.

"They were looking," my mom's voice is breathless, slow, serious but wavering with excitement, "at you the whole time. Jonah- you. They came up to us, asked if we were your parents. They wanted to exchange information so they could contact you. They're from Clemson,"

She laughs in shock, as if she's running out of air. But not because she didn't believe this could happen, but because it finally is.

"I'm so proud kiddo," my dad says as he leans over to pull me into a hug. His grip is strong on back, present, proud.

My eyes flicker shut, for a moment. I savor this feeling of satisfaction I fear won't last.

I have never felt better in my life.

This is what life is about.

But as soon as that thought flashes across my mind, I know it isn't true. Dread curls up my spine and tightens around my chest.

Not even winning feels better than getting high. Not anymore.

"Oh my god- Jonah-" Nicole is skipping down the bleachers, a long braid peeking out from under a knit hat. When she collides against the fence, she is already in my arms and I hoist her over. We're a mess of giggles and chuckles.

"Jonah, careful." My mom laughs, her voice light and airy.

Nicole's arms are wrapped around my neck and she presses her lips to mine. "So proud, so proud," she mouths.

She tastes of strawberries and cocoa butter, but my mind craves something else. We separate and that feeling of dread returns, even as I stare into the melting eyes of a girl who's my world. Or who I thought was my world.

Maybe my world has changed.

"Sorry," she apologizes to my parents through laughs, her cheeks are flushed red with embarrassment- "I didn't mean- that was so TMI-"

"You're fine Nicole," my mom says reaching over and rubbing her back. "Why don't you come with us. We're celebrating tonight, with Jonah's grandma. She was watching this whole game through a live stream. Anthony was on the phone with her for an hour teaching her how to use YouTube,"

"It was the hardest thing I've ever done-" My dad chuckles, flashing his doughy dimples.

As my mom, dad and Nicole chat, I catch Tay staring at me from across the field. He's leaning against the concession stand, his hands in his pockets. His hoodie is drawn over his face, but I can picture his expression, stone cold.

I owe him something. We both know it. I'm competitive, I like to succeed, be the best.

But the thing about debts is you can't be in one and win. The longer Tay held this power over me, the less likely I'd ever regain my footing.

I have to make us even. I'd already drained my savings, emergency fund, and the cash I had put aside for Nicole's birthday gift.

I can't keep grasping into empty pockets.

"You can shower at grandmas," my mom says, as she squeezes my hand for the final time. I escape from my thoughts for a moment. "She's making Irish soda bread, your favorite."

Maybe what I'm about to do will dig me deeper into a hole I'll never be able escape.

But I have to try.

I don't really have another option.

This is who I am now.