“Aw, man…” is all I can manage to say.

Julian gives me a high five and claps me on the back. “That was an epic block you made at the end of the first quarter. I thought for sure I was going down.”

“I saw that tackle coming at you out of the corner of my eye, and I just dove for him. The only thing I was thinking about was your ribs.” I laugh. “Man, it felt good to take him down. How are you feeling? Hurting?”

“Not so bad right now,” he says, touching his side with his fingertips. “Can’t promise it’s not going to be sore from all of those long passes I let fly when all this adrenaline wears off.”

“Well, we know how to take care of that now, right?” I laugh a little.

He cocks his head to the side and gives me a shy smile.

We start walking toward home when Bucky yells from the gym doors. “Y’all need a ride tonight? I got room in the truck.”

“Yeah, that’d be good,” Julian tells him. “Just got to talk to Birdie and pack up some stuff. What time are you coming by?”

“I’ve got to grab Darien first, then we’ll swing by your house around five thirty,” Bucky says.

“You all right with that? Riding with Bucky down to Port A?” Julian asks as we turn out of the school driveway.

Port Aransas postgame camping nights. I heard about them when I was a freshman but never got the chance to go. To be honest, I’m more than a little excited to be included. I wonder, but only for a second, if they would’ve asked me even if I hadn’t made that great block. Little thoughts like that creep in when I least expect them.

“Hell yeah, I’m all right with it,” I say, shaking off the thought and falling in step next to Julian.

We hightail it home, and Ms. Birdie has a feast of sandwiches and chips and potato salad and sodas waiting for us. Pastor Ernie and Figg are there, too, both wearing Crenshaw Booster Club T-shirts.

“To the champions!” Pastor Ernie says as he pours ginger ale into a glass and holds it high in the air for a toast.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Julian laughs. “It’s only the first game of the season.”

“The two of you keep up the show you had going this afternoon, and we’re headed for quite a season,” Figg says, holding a ham-salad sandwich in one hand and a Coke in the other.

“Hey, Birdie, is it okay if we head out for the night? The team is going down to Port A for the postgame campout,” Julian asks.

“Oh, Port A campouts,” Figg says. “I remember those!”

Pastor Ernie laughs. “Way back in the Stone Age, Thomas?”