Lisa Schroeder - The Bridge from You to Me

His eyes move from player to player. “It takes a lot to win football games, boys. You know what it takes, but it’s my job to remind you every single minute we’re out here. It takes hard work. It takes heart. It takes character. Every time you dig deep and pull something out when you don’t think there’s anything left, you’ve become a better football player.

“All right, see you back here this afternoon. I believe!”

“I believe!” we yell.

Benny helps me to my feet. When he lets go, my legs buckle and I start to fall. He grabs me and picks me up.

“I got you,” he says. “Don’t worry, man. I got you.”

I add this to my list of things I like about football practice.

It seems like Friday will never get here. But eventually it does, and everyone in the locker room is laughing and joking around because we have two days off from the annoying alarm clock, bossy coaches, and pain-in-the-ass drills.

I feel like I could go to bed and sleep all the way until Monday morning. But of course I won’t. It’s time to have some fun.

“You want to do something tonight?” I ask Benny.

“You bet. Let’s meet up at Murphy’s Hill. Maybe eight o’clock? I’ll swing by Russ’s first and see if I can get us some beer.”

“Sounds good. See ya then.”

I take my time walking to my truck. It feels like someone’s chewed up my legs and spit them back out. A white Kia pulls into the lot and parks next to my truck.

When Meghan gets out, her long, beautiful legs are what I notice first. Damn. I try to remember how long it’s been since I’ve even seen the girl. A month? Two?

“Hey there,” she says when I approach her. “Dang, you don’t look too good.”

“Wish I could say the same about you,” I reply.

She laughs as she flips her blond hair. “I’ve missed you too. Want to get a bite to eat or something? Catch up?”

I drop my bag of gear on the ground. “Thanks for the offer, but I just made plans with Benny. Sorry.”

“Oh, come on. He’d understand.”

“What are you doing, Meghan? It’s Friday night. Is your boyfriend out of town or something?”

She walks closer to me. “There is no boyfriend, Colby. And like I said, I’ve missed you.”

We went out for a few months last fall. Went to the Homecoming dance together and everything. But it wasn’t long after football season was over that she told me she needed space. A few weeks later, I heard she was going out with some guy in Lansford. Star of the basketball team or something.

Funny thing, though, I wasn’t too broken up about it at all. She’s nice to look at and we had some fun times, but I didn’t miss her that much. I think she liked being seen with me more than she actually liked me. Everyone said we made the perfect couple, but not in the important ways. Not in the ways that matter. I’m pretty sure I was just a jersey to her; a jock who made her feel good about herself as we walked down the halls of Willow High.

I don’t want that again. I’m tired of doing things simply because other people think it makes sense. You know — because in Small Town, USA, that’s what football players do; they go out with cheerleaders. Honestly, the last thing I want right now is someone worshipping me, up close and personal.

“Sorry,” I tell her, “but if you need a shoulder to cry on because your heart is broken, mine is too damn sore right now.”

“Well, here’s a little secret. I’m your guardian angel this year.”

I shake my head. “Wait. What? Meghan, you aren’t supposed to tell me that. What are you doing?”

Every year, each football player is assigned a guardian angel from the cheerleading team. She bakes him goodies, gives him a gift bag with funny little gifts before every game, writes him encouraging notes after the game, that kind of thing. But it’s all done anonymously, until the end of the season. The idea is that we each have someone “watching over us.” It’s supposed to bring the cheerleaders and the football players closer, and we have a lunch at the end for all of us. That’s when we usually find out which cheerleader was assigned to each player.

But for some crazy reason, Meghan has decided she wants me to know now. Great.

She reaches up and touches my face for a second, before she says, “Look, let’s not dance around, Colby. I basically came here to tell you, I’m here for you. If you need me, I’m here.”

Dance around what?

And then I get it. Holy shit. I get what she’s trying to say. And honestly, I’m speechless. Maybe some guys would be all over this. Maybe some guys would say, “Awesome, great, throw yourself at my feet because I’m one of the star players, and when I want a booty call, I damn well deserve a booty call.”

But oh my God. What is she doing ?

I pick up my bag and step away from her. “Meghan, thanks, um, for the offer, or whatever, but can we go back to the way it’s supposed to be? You know, do the whole guardian angel thing anonymously? I bet you can switch with someone, right? Since school hasn’t started yet?”

“Are you serious?” she asks.

“Yeah. I am.”

“But I requested you specifically.” She gives me a sad smile. “I know you aren’t seeing anyone, and . . . you know. We were good together.”

I can’t even believe how messed up this whole thing is right now. Doesn’t she know how pathetic this makes her look?

“Look, I’m sorry. Don’t take it the wrong way, okay? You’re a beautiful girl. But of all the things I need right now, this isn’t one of them.”

“Something’s changed,” she says. “You’re different.”

“Actually, Meghan,” I say as I open the door to my truck, “I just don’t think you, like most of the people in this freaking town, ever really knew me in the first place.”