I lean my head against the bus window and watch the broken white line stretch for miles. What was Julian doing right now? What was he thinking? Did he spend as much time remembering me as I spent remembering him?

Three weeks without Coley.

Three weeks with Julian.

I don’t know which I’m dreading more.

· three ·

JULIAN

“We’ve got a major weak spot on the left side,” Coach Marcus yells while we scrimmage. “Tighten up, boys!”

The center hikes the ball to me, and I back up a few steps, looking for an open pass. I spot an open receiver downfield about twenty yards, heading toward the end zone. I pivot right and let the ball go, watching it fall gently into his hands. Just as I exhale, I’m hit, hard, from the left. I fall to the ground in an ungraceful heap, my ribs buzzing.

“Late hit! What the hell was that!” I yell, pushing the defender off me. It’s one of our new guys, a freshman. He looks at me, eyes wide.

“I’m so sorry, Julian. I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice shaking. He extends his hand to me, but I smack it away.

“Good way to get yourself kicked out of a game, newbie,” I say, pulling myself up off the ground, my ribs burning. This kid is huge.

“It won’t happen again, Captain Jackson. I swear,” he says, talking around his mouth guard.

Captain Jackson. I snicker to myself as he lumbers away. “Captain Jackson” sounds like I’m the commander of the starship Enterprise. Coach Marcus introduced me as such to the freshmen on the first day of practice, but I’m still getting used to it.

“Last play! Make it count. Let’s stay on our feet out there, QB!” Coach yells from the sidelines, as if I fell down because I was clumsy. I twist a bit, try to get a little blood flowing to the pulsating pain on my left side. It’s stiff, but it’ll be okay. “Rub some dirt on it and get back in there,” my dad would’ve said.

I call for an easy play and set up, knowing I’m kind of copping out here, but I really don’t want to get hit again. I don’t exactly have a ton of confidence in my offensive line yet. The center hikes the ball perfectly, and I make an easy handoff to my running back. The play goes as planned, and I back away from the defense as soon as I hand the ball over. The RB makes a valiant effort to get through, but the defense is just too strong for the wimpy play I called. He’s driven back a few yards for a gain of zero. Coach Marcus blows the whistle.