When Dieter blows his whistle, I sprint alongside Trey, wanting to win so fucking bad. My legs pound on the grass and my arms pump fast.

It’s over quick. Too quick. Trey beats me by one tenth of a second.

I put my hands on my knees and bend over, trying to catch my breath. So much for showing off. I should resign myself to the fact that I just got my ass handed to me on a silver platter.

Trey stands beside me, hardly fazed by the sprint.

“You’re a damn machine, Matthews,” I tell him while I continue to pant.

“Face reality, Salazar. I make you a better player,” he says.

“How’s that?”

“Without me, who’d be around to challenge your ass?” He holds his arms out wide. “What are best friends for if not to challenge you to be your best?”

“I’m gonna bring you down if you try to run the ball,” I say with a tired grin.

“That’s the spirit. I dare you.”

It isn’t long before Dieter sets us up for drills and the cheerleaders on the sidelines abandon their practice and start cheering us on. For a split second I pretend that Monika is cheering me on, that she’s my girlfriend.

I’m on the defensive line now, my focus on the offensive lineman David Colton. Out of the corner of my eye I see Trey. It’s not hard to figure out that he’s going to be the ball carrier. He doesn’t have a good poker face, and his hands are twitching.

We line up on the line of scrimmage and Dieter blows his whistle. In a flash, I’ve got Colton on the ground. Derek hands off the ball to Trey. I’m not letting him get past me.

Not this time.

I put everything I have into running after Trey. I’m right on his heels. I’ve got this. With a burst of power, I tackle him, flinging my entire body on top of him as I pull him down.

Yes!

I’m panting like crazy and my legs feel like butter, but I don’t care. I tackled Trey, the fastest high school running back in the state of Illinois. Feels damn good.

“Take that, bro,” I say the second I catch my breath.

I stand up and hold out a hand for Trey, but he doesn’t take it.

“Trey, get up.”

He’s not doing anything.

He’s not moving.

I kneel beside him to check if he’s faking. “Yo, Trey! Come on, get up, man.”

Did he pass out? Why isn’t he moving? I’m confused and start panicking as dark thoughts race through my mind. My hands start to shake.

“Coach!” I yell, waving Dieter over. “There’s somethin’ wrong with Trey! Hurry!”

I don’t want to touch him. I’m scared that I broke his back. I’m responsible for this. His eyes are open, but he’s not conscious. He’s not faking. He’s passed out cold… or… I can’t even think clearly right now.

“Help him!” I yell as loud as I can before my throat closes up and I’m pulled out of the way by the trainers and Dieter. “Trey, wake up,” I say, choking on the words as the world closes in on me.

If I hurt my best friend… he’s all I got.

The trainer kneels beside Trey and puts his head close to his helmet. “Trey, can you hear me?”

Nothing.

I feel my entire body go numb as he quickly feels for Trey’s pulse.

“Call 911 now!” he calls out in a panic before gently pulling off Trey’s helmet, lifting Trey’s head back, and giving him CPR.

No.

I look at the ground, and it’s blurry.

Everything is blurry.

I watch in horror as the trainer works on Trey, counting as he and Dieter alternate pushing on his chest and breathing into his mouth. I scan Trey’s hands and feet for any sign of movement, but I don’t see any.

This can’t be happening. I rub my eyes, hoping that this is all a nightmare and I’ll wake up. Or it’s a joke that everyone is playing on me.

But it’s not a joke.

And I’m not sleeping.

I back away from the crowd when I hear the sound of an ambulance siren in the distance. One thought keeps running through my head over and over again, like a chant.

This is my fault.

This is my fault.

This is my fault.

Chapter Twenty-four

MONIKA

“What’s going on over there?” Bree asks as she points to commotion on the football field.

“Looks like someone is hurt,” another girl says. “I wonder who it is.”

“Sucks to be injured the day before the homecoming game,” Bree says, then tosses her pom-poms in the air and catches them. “Right, Monika?”