It's been awhile since we've read any of Pass Me the Ball, so here's a refresher:
Click here for Chapter One of Pass Me the Ball
Click here for Chapter Two of Pass Me the Ball
Click here for Chapter Three of Pass Me the Ball
Click here for Chapter Four of Pass Me the Ball
And now... here's Chapter Five:
I needed a nap.
But I told Jonnie two hours and thought it best to be here early. Not early enough, apparently. Jonnie was sitting cross legged in the middle of the field with her wrists resting on her knees, like she was… meditating?
“Dude, what are you doing?” I called to her when I was ten feet away and she still hadn’t noticed me approaching. Her eyes were hooded, but open, sort of. She shook out of her stupor and smiled when she noticed me. Crap, why’d she have such a beautiful smile?
“You’re here,” she said. She didn’t move.
“Stating the obvious?” I sat directly in front of her and crossed my legs, mirroring her. I twirled a football in my right hand like a drumstick or a basketball.
“Why are you mad at me?” She still didn’t move.
“What’s this yoga thing you got going on?” I asked.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“You didn’t answer mine.”
“I asked you first.” She lifted her chin. She had me.
“I’m not mad at you.” Did my voice just drop an octave? How embarrassing. “You just seem different this year and it startled me.”
“I was meditating,” she said. Oh yeah, I’d asked. I continued my line of thinking.
“You’ve grown up. You look like a woman.”
“And you look like a man,” she said then smirked. “You’re kinda hot. I’m a little jealous of Amberlyn.”
“You have nothing to be jealous about.” I absentmindedly picked grass out of the field. Wait—what did I just say? “I mean… um… Amberlyn has no reason to be jealous. I mean—weren’t we gonna run some plays?”
I stood quickly and almost reached a hand down to help her up before taking two steps back and holding up my football again.
“On your feet, Gillis. Let’s go.”
She chuckled but rose from the field, too gracefully I might add, and brushed the grass off her rear end. She had really got to stop doing that. I turned and walked toward the forty-yard line.
“Let’s work on your short pass first and then we’ll go long,” I instructed. “Set it up for a hook.”
She followed me to the line of scrimmage, lined up at the split end position, and nodded. “Ready, captain.”