Owens didn’t seem convinced. “You took quite a hit out there.”
“Did we get the penalty?” Kenny asked, struggling to absorb the pain, to act normal, to think beyond it.
“Fifteen yards.”
“Good.” Kenny finally reached the bench. He wished he could sink onto it and rock back and forth in misery, but he turned to watch the second-string kicker instead. “That’s it,” he said when they made the extra point, but Owens wasn’t listening. He was frowning over his clipboard.
“You’ve got to come out,” he said. “We’ll go with—”
“Is Kenny okay?”
Owens glanced at Coach Holbrook, who was making his way down the sidelines with that Buzz guy. “He’s hurt.”
“No, I’m not!” Kenny said.
Owens ignored him. “Who do you want to go in for him?”
“Greer,” Holbrook answered.
“But I feel fine,” Kenny insisted.
Surprise registered on Holbrook’s face. “Kenny, if you feel good enough, sit down and watch the game. If you don’t, let’s get your mother down here and have her take you to the doctor.”
“I can play,” he insisted.
“What if something’s broken?”
Kenny thought that was probably the case. “We’ll get it X-rayed after the game. It won’t hurt anything to wait.”
“Kenny—”
“Come on, Coach. I need this,” he said softly and grabbed Holbrook’s arm.
Holbook glanced pointedly at the spot where Kenny held him. Kenny let go but couldn’t apologize. He could focus only on keeping himself together long enough to finish the game.
“Please, Coach,” Kenny said. “I have to do this.” He had to know that he wasn’t going to turn out exactly like his father, always searching for the easy way out and blaming everything and everyone else for what went wrong in his life.
“You could get hit again,” Holbrook warned.
Only a few feet away, the defense fought to hold the Wildcats to their own side of the field. Kenny winced at the rough tackles. The thought of simply jarring his arm nearly made him faint. But he had to finish what he’d started. This was his Thomas More moment. “If I do, you can take me out.”
“Are you feeling much pain?”
“My arm’s a little numb, that’s all,” he lied, even though his whole body felt like it had just been through a meat grinder.
Blaine had come up from behind. Now he suddenly jumped into the conversation. “He’s trying to be a hero, letting his ego get in the way. Don’t listen to him. Of course he should come out.”
Kenny opened his mouth to plead with Holbrook some more. The Spartans weren’t going to lose because some fool took a cheap shot and knocked him out of the game. Blaine had already done enough damage to the team. But Kenny didn’t need to say any more. Blaine’s involvement seemed to be just the thing to get Holbrook to give in.
“You can play,” Holbrook said. “But you have to stay in the pocket, do you understand me? If you get sacked or try to run even once—”
Blaine’s hands clenched. “You’re making a mistake, Holbrook,” he said. “This kid has a head as big as yours.”
Holbrook ignored him. “Don’t run,” he said to Kenny.
Kenny put his helmet back on with his good hand. “I won’t.”
“You’re going to get fired for this,” Kenny heard Blaine warn Holbrook.
“It’s a possibility,” Holbook said. “But the fact that you won’t be here next week is a foregone conclusion.”
Kenny couldn’t tell which one of them was right. It was too much to think about. All he knew was that Tuck was watching and so were his mother and brother. He was going to show them, and himself, what kind of man he wanted to be.
Determination surged inside him like floodwater tearing through a canyon.
It was the only thing that kept the nausea and blackness at bay.
“HE’S HURT,” Hannah said, watching Kenny attempt another pass.
“No, he’s not,” Russ said.
Hannah considered the way Kenny held his left arm. It didn’t look natural. He didn’t seem to be moving quite as fast as normal, either. Had that late tackle done more damage than she’d thought?
“He just completed another pass,” Patti said. “I think he’s fine.”
“Can you keep an eye on Brent for a minute?” Hannah asked Russ.
“Take him with you,” Russ grumbled. Ever since she’d admitted her feelings for Gabe he’d had very little to say to her. And although Kenny had begun to play brilliantly, Russ didn’t seem pleased. Considering how much Russ cared about Kenny’s football success, Hannah couldn’t work out what his problem was.
“Russ!” Patti said, her tone full of reproach. “He’s your son, too. Of course you can keep an eye on him.”
“So she can use Kenny as an excuse to get in front of Gabe, hoping he’ll invite her over again tonight?”
“Oh, grow up!” Hannah snapped. “I’m worried about my son.” Getting up, she hurried down to the fence, so she could see better.
Kenny backed up to throw again, but couldn’t get the pass off. A defender broke through the front line. Kenny shifted to the left to avoid the tackle; then, in an amazing feat of strength, Moose Blaine threw off another guy and managed to protect his quarterback well enough for Kenny to toss the ball a few short yards. After the play, Hannah thought she saw Moose check with Kenny to be sure he was okay and watched her son nod.
Was she wrong? Her sixth sense told her no, but…
“Hi, Hannah.”
Hannah glanced over to see that Mike Hill had come up next to her and greeted him.
“Kenny’s playing quite a game. That kid’s something special.”
“I’m proud of him,” she said absently.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Kenny’s hurt. Do you think Gabe knows that?”
“I’m sure he does.”
“Then, why isn’t he pulling him out?”
“I don’t know, but he must have a good reason, don’t you think?”
She wasn’t sure. Did she trust Gabe that much? She wasn’t used to relying on other people to look out for her boys.
“I’m sure Kenny’s going to be okay, Hannah,” Mike said gently.