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She hated the thought of Hopperville losing on Cornell’s birthday, especially given that for this game, there was an entire cheer squad rooting for the soon-to-be head coach nearly having a stroke on the sidelines.
“That’s not the quarterback,” Lucy pointed out, confused.
Squinting, Ali shook her head when she didn’t see Julian behind the line of scrimmage, but instead Dwayne.
“Doesn’t that guy play defense?” Bobbi asked, confused.
Dwayne did play defense, but he wasn’t the only one out of position. Julian was lined up and substituted for a wide receiver. Ali bit her lip.
“He’s got balls, your boy,” John said to Peter.
Peter laughed. “Cornell hated a wildcat play. He used to say he played quarterback so he had protection, not to take hits.”
Janice shook her head. “So he’ll pitch it to the quarterback who’s now a wide receiver? Not sure where the trick is there, but can defensive players even throw the ball that well?”
Ali didn’t know either. It seemed too obvious.
“I guess we’re about to find out,” Peter announced as the crowd quieted while Dwayne called the snap.
Except no one found out if Dwayne had a very good or accurate arm for a linebacker. Because after a quick pump fake, he cradled it and blew through the defensive line, accelerating to the opposite side of the field, hitting the numbers, and the hash marks until he stayed along the sideline, Cornell and the team running along with him into the end zone, securing Hopperville’s victory.
The bleachers shook with both the roar of celebrations and the descent of fans onto the field. Ali held onto Celeste’s arm as they braved their way down the stairs. “Was that not just the most wonderful moment?” Her grandmother asked over the crowd. “And Cornell did that.”
“He got them there,” Ali said with a smile. Exactly what he was supposed to do.
Ali left Celeste with her mother and wove her way through the thick crowd, eager to find him. But a gentle, large hand on her shoulder forced her to a halt. Ali didn’t jump, didn’t panic, only turned slowly. And there was a reason she didn’t spook. Because standing behind her was a reminder that Graham had been just a bad apple—a rotten, spoiled apple—in a bunch of so many good ones, and she was looking at the shiniest of the bunch.
“Been lookin’ for ya,” Marvin said with a smile, smoothing down his Mississippi State sweatshirt and adjusting his navy Hopperville hat.
Before he could say anything else, Ali launched herself at him.
“Surprised to see me?” he asked, hugging her.
“What are you doing here?”
Marvin shrugged, lowering Ali back to the ground. “Heard this was a game not to be missed.” Grinning ear to ear, Marvin shrugged. “I’m redshirted. No playing time for me this year.”
“But maybe next year,” Ali said, her body suddenly overwhelmed with a redeemed sense of optimism and positivity.
“Maybe. But I’m busy. Declaring Sports Medicine my major. Maybe I’ll be makin’ it to The League after all. Even if it’s just on the sidelines tapin’ players up.” He bumped Ali’s shoulder with his arm.
Ali listened in awe as Marvin talked about Mississippi State, about classes. “Guess Biology last year paid off after all,” Ali said with a smile. “You got your foundation for Anatomy.”
“Guess so.” Marvin laughed. He motioned behind Ali. “Your dude’s lookin’ for ya. Heard he’ll be wearin’ the head coach hat soon.”
Peeking over her shoulder, Ali could see Cornell standing with their families as he looked her way. She watched Peter give him a hug and a pat on the back before he began to walk toward her and Marvin.
“Yes,” she said, turning back to Marvin. “Well deserved, I think.”
Marvin raised an eyebrow. “Know what that makes you?”
“What?”
“First lady.”
Ali laughed and stepped aside as Cornell approached, greeting Marvin with a hug. She wrapped an arm around his waist as Marvin was pulled away.
“You’ve got balls,” Ali said, looking up at him.
