“Beats me,” I answer. “We don’t talk much. I still can’t believe he quit your team. I mean, I don’t have anywhere near the football talent he has, but I swear I’ll do anything to make myself better. I want to show him up, you know, show him how attitude, determination, and hard work can go a long way in making up for a lack of natural talent.” I pause. “Kind of like how my dad did back when you guys played together.”

“That’s excellent, Zach.” Horton smiles again. “I wish your brother felt the same way.” He shifts into drive, keeps his foot on the brake. “You have enthusiasm, Ramsey. And you can do anything if you have enthusiasm.”

“That’s me, Coach. Call me Mr. Enthusiasm. I want to make my senior season count! I want to make it memorable!”

“Yes!” he yells, getting all fired up. “Another thing you need to remember, Ramsey. The person who said it can’t be done is being passed by the person who is doing it.”

“I get it!” I say, struggling to feign interest in this motivational bullshit. “In other words, nothing is impossible.”

“Exactly!” He reaches into the back seat and turns toward me, holding a spotless white baseball cap with the Blaine team helmet (blue with a yellow B on the side) emblazoned on the front. “See this hat?”

“Yes.”

“Take it.” He dangles it out the window. “They’re brand-new. I’m only allowing my seniors to wear them. I’m telling you, Ramsey. Our cheerleaders love guys who wear hats like this. And we have a fine-looking cheerleading squad at Blaine Memorial this season.” He winks.

“Sweet.” I grab the hat and put it on, a perfect fit. “How does it look?”

“Like it was made for you, son.” He opens his mouth to say something, decides against it, but then changes his mind again, saying, “Listen, Ramsey, if you do the little things right, the big things will take care of themselves. Keep working hard and this program will reward you with everything you need.” He nods and drives off.

I step into the middle of the street and wave goodbye.

He doesn’t wave back, gives me a chubby thumbs-up out the window instead.

And I say to myself, I can’t wait to watch this fat bastard fall.

————

When I get to Tank’s, Sarah is nowhere in sight, so I go inside and walk downstairs. Tank is sitting on the blue sofa, wearing a pair of gray athletic shorts and watching season fifty of Cribs or whatever. The volume is up so loud he doesn’t even hear me.