“Wow.” Cara swipes at her eyes, which suddenly look small and beady to me, and sniffs hard. “So even after all that, you’re on her side.”

“There are no fucking sides, Cara!” I cannot do this anymore. I can’t. It’s not worth it. “Jack is not against you! She didn’t kill Robbie or—” The rest of the words die on my tongue, but they don’t need to be said. “You’re the only one thinking that this is somehow penance. You’ve all convinced yourselves it’s a disgrace to Robbie’s memory to have a girl absolutely kick his ass at football, and I’m sorry, but that’s just fifty shades of deranged girl hate. You’re right—I’m not on your side.” I stalk over to the front door and swing it open, the only time in my life I have ever kicked Cara Whelan out of my house. It’s not lost on me that it might be the last time she’s ever in my house. “Maybe Jesus can help you.”

She sets her jaw but grabs her stuff in a haste and storms to the door, turning to lay one last smackdown. “You’re never, ever going to become captain after this. You can forget about that, and if you think I’m rooming with you at ACC, you can forget about that, too.”

At that, I can’t help but snort. There is no way I’m staying in this town after graduation, surrounded by people who think like this. If that means college isn’t in the cards for me, now that I’m throwing captainship away, then whatever. The only thing I want out of life after high school is to live openly, and I did want to do it without losing anyone, but turns out that even in the closet, people can prove to you that they’re just not worth it.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say sweetly. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to share your room with a big ol’ queer anyway.”

Her jaw is still hanging open when I slam the door in her face.

-JACK-

I’m going home. Once the thought hits my brain—for real, and not just an angry aside—it becomes impossible to shake. It’s one thing to push back against the hate, to keep playing no matter what. But even when the guys were at their most dickish, they were still my team—they still ran the plays I called and caught the balls I threw and tackled the guys in my way. (As well as they could, anyway; it’s not like they turned into superstars overnight.) But if they’re not doing that, if we’re not a team anymore, then this isn’t me quitting; it’s me not being able to play in the first place.

I had my shot.

It’s over.