“Okay, so, you want to be QB1 again—a spot that’s yours, not mine, apparently—despite the fact that I threw more yards in my first game than you did all summer? That you fumbled your first snap in every fucking game? Yeah, I’ve seen the videos. Or that I’ve run in two TDs—something you’ve never even done once? You want back the hours you sit in ice baths because you don’t spend half the time on conditioning I do? And I assume you’ve run this by Coach, who very specifically put me where I am.”

“Someone’s on her period,” Zach Sawyer spits. “Way to be a fucking bitch.”

I wheel on him. “These are facts and stats, asshole. And the only one being a little bitch is you, trying to shove your friend back into a position he doesn’t even want because you all can’t fucking stand that the first time in your entire careers you have a winning season, it’s thanks to your quarterback who happens to be a girl. Grow the fuck up.”

“You grow the fuck up,” Sanchez snarls. “Just because we happen to be winning while you keep Duggan’s spot warm doesn’t mean it has shit to do with you.”

I blink. “What does it have to do with, then? You think the spirit of Robbie is nudging the ball into your hands? Or do you maybe finally have a QB who’s found your sweet spot and actually has the accuracy to hit it? You’re welcome for helping you suck less, by the way.”

There’s a low whistle from somewhere in the crowd and maybe no one is coming to my side, but no one’s coming to Sanchez’s, either. No one says a word at all, including Duggan, who’s suddenly a little less determined to put QB1 back on his résumé.

“You’re so fucking lucky I can’t hit a girl,” Sanchez spits, and I knew—I knew, the way I knew a stupid comment about my period was coming, the way every girl who ever stands up for herself knows—it was only a matter of time till he pulled that one out. My brothers try that shit all the time, like if only they could swing a punch at me, they’d win every argument, even if they were being complete dumbshits. Whereas with my brothers I’d fight back with words, here I honestly feel done talking. Finally standing up for myself has adrenaline coursing through my veins, and I want the fight just as much as Sanchez does.