“Nolan, I don’t know you well. And I’m sorry. I know that is mostly my fault. But from what I do know, you aren’t someone who is used to favors. You like to earn your way. And I can respect that,” Millie spoke more comfortably, her formalities breaking down just the slightest bit, and my heart leaping at the word respect. “I sent your files to a friend of mine. Dean Howard is in charge of the Education College at ASU, and it seems she’s quite familiar with you. She submitted your profile for the Summit Fellowship. Are you familiar with the program?”

I shook my head slowly. I’d heard of it, but really had no clue what it was.

“Hmmmm, well…basically your senior year is turned into an intensive study program under her direct supervision. You have to complete a major paper to be published in an academic journal and turn in several hours of hands-on experience. And in exchange for your tutoring in her class, your tuition is completely covered,” her words were starting to echo as my head was racing through this possibility. I had spent the semester digging my own grave, and there was this chance now that I would actually be able to claw my way out.

Millie held the folder out for me to take, and when I did, I clung it to my chest, afraid to look inside.

“Nolan, I removed myself from the selection committee. It wasn’t appropriate. I hope you understand,” she said as she left the office and left me to sit there alone, curious about the direction my life would turn the second I flipped open the damn folder in my hand.

I set it flat in my lap, and with shaky fingers I turned the cover over to see the personal letter from Dean Howard, welcoming me to join her fellowship next fall. I gasped for air, my heart beating quickly, and my eyes stinging with relief. I read every word of the letter and every paper that followed, spending at least 20 minutes alone in Millie’s office. The more I read through my files, and the details of the program, the more I realized what Millie had meant. She had removed herself from the committee. I’d earned this honor all on my own. While I might not be good enough for her son, I had Millie Johnson-Snyder’s respect. And with that in my hip pocket, I felt renewed optimism that someday I might just be able to win her favor completely.

Chapter 15

Reed

“Dude, get your head in the game,” Trig laughed, slapping the back of my head with a towel after our morning workout the day of the bowl game. We did some light running, and I threw a few passes just to get a feel for the ball and the cooler air. Playing in California was amazing. Of all the BCS bowls, the Rose bowl was the bomb.

“My head’s in the game. Don’t you worry about me. You just make sure you catch the pretty little passes I’ll be throwin’ your ass, okay?” I gave it right back to him. He started laughing as he lay down on the bench across from me, stretching his arms out and taking up the entire bench. Trig was six-foot-four, and when he jumped, he seemed like he was 10-foot-plus, which made even my crappiest throws look pretty spectacular.

“Don’t let coach hear you calling your passes little. He won’t like that too much,” Trig joked. “You know they’re going to be gunnin’ for your ass.”

“Yep. I know,” I said, laying back, too, and shutting my eyes, my head spinning with everything that was happening so fast. Win or lose, tomorrow morning I was declaring myself draft eligible. I had been ready for it all season, but now that it was here, this new step scared the shit out of me. If I failed, it was going to be on a mega stage for the world to see. I’d gotten used to being the big fish in the small pond; I wasn’t so sure anymore that I was ready to swim with the sharks.

I heard my phone in my bag and sat up to dig it out. Trig started laughing at the ringtone Noles had put in for her number. “Man…is your phone playing P!nk?” he started poking fun.

“Yes. It is,” I said back seriously, my face bluffing my embarrassment. I was going to play it proud.

“Well, alright then,” he said, laying back down and popping his headphones in.

“Huh? That was easy,” I laughed to myself.

I answered Nolan’s call, excited to hear how close she and my dad were to the stadium. “Hey, Princess. Where you at?” I asked.

“We’re getting off the freeway right now. Your dad’s telling me some story about the Rose Bowl parade in 1994, something he did to one of the floats?” she was giggling a little, telling on my dad. I just rolled my eyes. I’d heard the story a million times. ASU was in the bowl that year, and my dad and a few of his alumni buddies managed to sabotage one of the ASU floats, spraying their flowers red and blue, UofA colors. I’d heard the story about a thousand times. Poor Nolan, this was only her first.