Either Devlin knows making me look bad is now a lost cause or he’s just feeling the high of doing something right for once, but there’s no bullshit on the next play—just another solid pass that gains us six yards, and then it’s back to the Walsh-and-Santiago show for another first down.

The crowd is roaring now, and you can actually feel the mood on the field change, feel who was going reluctantly along with the shitty plan but doesn’t want to go back to losing. Even Devlin is clearly getting desperate to look good, or at least he knows Coach will bench him if he fucks up one more time. Finally, finally, we start playing like an actual team, and when we finish the play with a touchdown, even Mathison is feeling the spirit enough to score the extra point. (Just barely, but who’s measuring?)

Blessedly, defense stays on a streak of not sucking, and we hold Kennedy to twenty-four. However many eyes there are in the bleachers, it feels like a thousand times that number are lasering holes into my uniform. The pressure is daunting, no question, but it’s also … kind of awesome? That it’s even a question we could turn this around, that all these Atherton people believe I could turn this around.… I mean. It’s very fucking awesome.

Deep breath. Line up. Behind me, I swear I see Devlin make the sign of the cross, and I’m surprised it doesn’t send him bursting into flames. Then I block everything out of my brain and focus on nothing but Sawyer’s hands, the ball hitting my gloves, the fake to Burke followed by the real thing to Sanchez. He’s sacked so hard and fast the ball flies off his fingertips, but honestly, it’s almost worth it just to watch him get knocked on his ass.

Second down, we run a play that has me passing to Santiago, and I really hope Malcolm is in the stands somewhere watching his boyfriend have the game of his life, because he’s truly crushing it. It isn’t a first down, but it’s close enough that on the next play, I run us there.