Harley always wanted to play football. Nothing else ever interested him. It was what he loved ever since he got his very first football for Christmas when he was still just a little kid who believed in Santa Claus. Even if it was pouring rain outside, he would be on my porch, or at Nash’s front door, jumping up and down in excitement, waiting impatiently for us to go out and toss the ball around with him. It was his one true love, but there was a sadness behind his love.

Harley’s father had been quarterback for the Graceville Bears back in his day. But he never made it to college. When he was forced to get a real job at the steel mill after graduation because his girlfriend, Harley’s mom, fell pregnant, Mr. Shaw resented his unborn son. Throughout his childhood, Harley was constantly reminded every day that he was the reason his daddy had amounted to nothing more than a drunk. That he was the reason his momma left to marry someone new. Harley tried so hard to make his daddy proud with football, but it just made everything so much worse. His father resented him for ruining his life, and being good at football only made matters worse.

So, one day, Harley gave up trying to please his daddy, and he spent every waking minute out of that house. He spent his days at the park, the empty lot behind the Wendy’s, the field, my front yard, the woods behind our house, anywhere he could throw the ball around and practice his passes was where you would find him, doing what he loved, what he’d always dreamed of doing. But, football wasn’t just his one true love; it was his savior, his escape, his one-way ticket out of Graceville and far away from his daddy.

I step forward as something on the mantel catches my eye. I lean in closer to take a look at the framed photos, and one in particular instantly brings a smile to curl at my lips. Harley, Nash and I stare back from within the frame. We’re not much older than 12, maybe 13. The two boys are dressed in football jerseys brandishing their favorite team’s name and mascot, while I’m wearing a Justin Timberlake T-shirt. Nash has Harley in a headlock, both boys smiling for the camera and, for some reason, I’m holding their beloved football, with a grin so bright it emanates from the photo.

I pick up the frame, smiling down at the picture, and my heart begins to swell in my chest. We were so young, naive. We had no idea what the future held for us, but that was okay, because we had each other. Before high school football took Harley away, our Friday nights were spent camping in my living room with Momma bringing us snacks while we hid under our sleeping bags from horror movie villains playing out on the television screen. We were just kids back then, but we’d been through so much together. Those days were hard, but I miss them. Without Nash and Harley, I know one thing’s for sure—I would never know true friendship, and I am so thankful Harley saved me from Billy Connor all those years ago.