The news of a freshman taking the Varsity starting quarterback spot traveled through the family like a wildfire in a drought. By the time I walked through the front door of the Pritchett-Delgado residence, the living room had already been converted into a command center.
Jay was sitting in his chair, a rare, genuine grin on his face. He was looking at a local sports blog on his laptop that already had a headline: "Delgado-Pritchett: The Miracle Kid or The Next Legend?"
"Starting Varsity? As a freshman?" Jay chuckled, closing the laptop. "I haven't felt this much pride in this house since I finished the master bedroom remodel. You're a Pritchett, kid. It's in the blood. Even if half of that blood is Javier's nonsense, the other half is pure steel."
Gloria was less concerned with the stats and more concerned with the pads. "Mason! I saw the video on the internet! You hit that giant boy! Are you hurt? Do I need to rub the salt and the oil on your shoulders?"
"I'm fine, Mom," I said, catching the football Manny tossed at me without looking. My Peak Athlete Physique meant my muscles were already recovering, the lactic acid being flushed out at four times the normal rate. "It was just a drill."
"It wasn't just a drill," Manny said, adjusted his tie. "It was a statement. You've upset the natural order, Mason. The seniors are terrified. The juniors are confused. And the drama department is wondering why someone with your bone structure isn't auditioning for Streetcar Named Desire."
[INTERVIEW - JAY]Jay is holding a vintage football, looking nostalgic.Jay: "I played ball. I wasn't half bad. But seeing Mason out there? It's like watching a professional athlete who accidentally wandered onto a high school field. I'm already looking at boosters. We're gonna need a bigger trophy case."
The "peace" was interrupted by the sound of the Dunphy's minivan screeching into the driveway. Phil burst through the door, wearing a generic "Go Team!" hat and carrying a whistle.
"Mason! My man! The QB1!" Phil shouted, attempting a chest-bump that I had to soften so I didn't send him flying into the kitchen. "I heard the news! Varsity! As your... well, whatever I am to you, I've decided to be your unofficial offensive coordinator."
Jay stood up, his eyes narrowing. "Phil, what are you talking about? I've already got a training regimen for him. Weights, sprints, and steak."
"Jay, Jay, Jay," Phil said, putting a hand on Jay's shoulder, which Jay immediately swatted away. "Football is 90% mental, 10% physical, and 100% 'Phil-osophy.' I've got visualization techniques. We're going to imagine the end zone is a giant hug from your father-figure."
[INTERVIEW - PHIL]Phil is standing in his backyard, holding a clipboard with 'PLAYS' written in glitter.Phil: "Jay thinks it's all about grit. But I know the secret. I was a cheerleader! I know the rhythm of the game! I know how to get the crowd behind you! Plus, I have a very high-quality camera. We're going to make a highlight reel that will make recruiters cry. Not from sadness, but from beauty."
[INTERVIEW - JAY]Jay stares at the camera with a look of pure exhaustion.Jay: "If Phil touches that kid's throwing arm with a 'visualization crystal,' I'm going to bury him in the backyard. This isn't a hobby. This is Varsity. This is the Pritchett legacy."
The dinner that followed was a classic family collision. Mitchell and Cam arrived with Lily, having heard the news from Claire.
"So, the jock is back," Mitchell said, sitting down. "I assume this means we have to spend our Friday nights on bleachers smelling like nacho cheese?"
"It's a rite of passage, Mitchell!" Cam exclaimed. "The lights! The drama! The tight pants! Mason, I've already started sketching some designs for a victory cape. Just for the locker room walk."
"No capes, Cam," I said firmly.
Across the table, Haley was unusually quiet. She kept glancing at her phone, which was buzzing incessantly. I knew exactly what was happening. Her friends were relentless.
"Haley, are you okay?" Claire asked. "You've been staring at that phone since we got here."
"I'm fine," Haley snapped. "It's just... people are being annoying."
[INTERVIEW - HALEY]Haley is holding her phone up to the camera. The screen shows 47 unread texts.Haley: "They won't stop! 'Is Mason single?' 'Can Mason come to the bonfire?' 'Does Mason like blondes?' I told them he's allergic to desperate people, but they don't care. Now they're all 'suddenly interested' in football. I hate football. It's just people falling over each other for a piece of leather. It's basically Black Friday at the mall."
Alex was staring at me from across the table, her eyes narrowed in that analytical way I was starting to enjoy. "I watched the footage too, Mason. Your acceleration doesn't match your body mass index. From a physics standpoint, you shouldn't be able to hit 4.3 in the forty without serious... assistance."
"Maybe I'm just a miracle, Alex," I said, winking at her.
"Miracles are just science we haven't figured out yet," she retorted.
[INTERVIEW - ALEX]Alex is writing in a notebook.Alex: "I've started a chart. Physical anomalies, cognitive speed, social adaptability. He's either the most perfect human being ever born, or he's an alien scout preparing for an invasion. Either way, I'm the only one who sees it. Which makes me the protagonist of this thriller."
As the dinner ended, Jay pulled me aside in the garage.
"Listen," he said, his voice dropping. "Phil is a clown, and Mitchell... well, Mitchell thinks a 'spiral' is something you do in ice skating. But you? You've got a chance to do something real here. Don't let the noise get to you. You stay focused. You be the leader that team needs. You're a Pritchett. We don't just play; we win."
"I know, Jay," I said. "I'm not going to let you down."
I looked out at the driveway. My Total Recall reminded me that in the original timeline, this was the week Mitchell and Cam were supposed to introduce Lily to the family. I knew it was coming. I knew how it would go. But for now, I was just a fifteen-year-old quarterback with the world in his hands.
And I was going to play the game my way.
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