The game started as the Moose Creek Spuds ran the kickoff back to the thirty-two-yard line. The thwacks and thuds of helmets and pads colliding echoed across the fields around the stadium. With nothing to absorb the sounds, people miles away could hear what was happening in the game. Many of them even stopped what they were doing to set their hands on their hearts when the national anthem played through the speakers.

“I’ve never seen so much camo in my life,” Jeremy said.

She gave him a half smile. “Wait until opening weekend.”

He leaned closer to her ear. “I didn’t realize your dad was coming.”

One eyebrow rose. She wasn’t thrilled about it, either. But Dad attended all the home games, like most people in town. They couldn’t just leave him home while they went out, could they?

A jolt of excitement rippled through the crowd as a man wearing a suit made from potato sacks appeared in the stands.

The crowd cried out, “Booger!”

He raised his fists and yelled. The crowd went wild, chanting, “Booger! Booger! Booger!”

Jeremy gave her a funny look, his lips looking a little blue. “Booger?”

She shrugged. “It’s not his real name.”

“What’s his real name?”

“Beauregard.”

“Oh.” Jeremy stuck his hands under his armpits. “That wind is brisk.”

The sky was clear as the harvest moon peered over the mountain to check the score of the game. But the damp chill portended the freezing rain to come. She looked at him sideways. “I thought your feet were going to be sweaty.”

His face tightened. “I only wore one pair.”

“Should’ve listened to my dad.”

He frowned and looked away. She tensed. She shouldn’t have said that.

“How are your shoes?” Jeremy asked, low enough only she could hear.

Was that what this was all about? She looked down at the Romeos and turned her face away from where Dad sat on her other side. “He was only trying to help.”

“He wants me to know I’m out of my element here.”

She spoke in an irritated whisper. “The leather needed some grease, that’s all.”

Jeremy didn’t answer. She pressed her lips together. Was it going to be like this the whole time? What did he want from her?

The quarterback threw a short pass for eight yards, and the announcer’s voice crackled over the loudspeaker. “First down . . .”

The crowd answered eagerly, “Spud Town!”

Never did Moose Creek embrace their potato heritage like during football season, which happened to coincide with harvest.

Dad elbowed her. “They’re looking pretty good this season. You know they’ve won three games already?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

He pulled his beanie down tighter over his ears. “This could be the year.”

Jeremy leaned forward to join the conversation. “The year for what?”

“The year we finally make the play-offs.”

“That’s never happened before?”

“Not yet.”