That actually made me smile. “Sometimes it’s the safest place to be.”

“Safe is overrated,” he said. “Can’t we just go back to the way things were before?”

That was just what I needed to hear. Things going back to normal. I just wished more things could. “So we’re still friends, right?”

“For better or for worse, that’s a given,” he said.

But things that are given can also be taken away.

This week’s game was on hostile territory. We had a crowd on the visitors’ side, but nowhere near as big as the home crowd. The other team’s mascot was the Phoenix, which probably seemed a good idea at the time, until someone realized the plural of “Phoenix” was Phoenices. And when the loudspeaker proudly announced, “The Phoenices are on the field!” none of us could keep a straight face. Maybe that was part of their psychological tactics. Weaken us through laughter.

All joking aside, they were a tough team. We’re hard to beat, but I guess you could say the Phoenices rose to the occasion.

By the beginning of the fourth quarter, we were down twenty to fourteen. Layton was furious at himself for allowing such a thing to happen, while at the same time blaming everyone else. I knew I was holding back, not playing as hard as I usually do, because my fear of going sideways again muted all my responses. Which meant if we lost, I would be a part of the reason.

The truth is, I shouldn’t have been there at all. I should have retired my jersey while it was still blue and lived a tackle-free life. Because this world, as twisted as it was, was fixable. It wouldn’t be easy, but it could be done. I could be the old me in the new digs. If I knew what was coming, that’s what I would have done. But I was foolish. I was arrogant. Like Leo said, my head was lodged in a place where the sun, moon, and stars don’t shine.

With eight minutes left to play, the ball changed hands, and I took the field with the rest of the defensive team, determined to make these next few plays count.