Small Miracles

“Hey, stranger,” Nick greets me the very next morning as I climb into his truck. Mom takes the car to drop James off at kindergarten and then go to work, so that leaves me with few options to get to school. She likes to point out that we live within walking distance of school and I’m perfectly capable of getting there on my own, but I really can’t be bothered. I like walking home, because then I can just put my headphones in and be alone, but in the morning I’m still tired and frazzled.

So, I bum rides off of Nick in exchange for food. Today, for example, it’s Mom’s homemade doughnuts, dusted with cinnamon and sugar. Despite Nick insisting he likes to eat healthy, he goes nuts for these.

I have to move all of his sweaty, dirty football equipment into the tiny backseat so I can sit down. “You really need to get an air freshener in here,” I complain, making a face. Nick is usually very clean, but during football season he really doesn’t care, which pains me to no end.

“Hmph,” he says through the mouthful of doughnut. He swallows and says in a would-be casual voice, “So, senior night is this Friday.”

I don’t answer for a second. “Yeah.”

“My last home game as a senior at Sterling High.”

“Yup.”

“Which also determines whether we’ll be moving onto the semi-finals or not.”

“Right.”

“Right,” Nick echoes. “So . . . ?”

“So.”

“Are you going?”

“Going where?”

Nick takes his eyes off the road for a second to give me a glare. “Julianna.”

“Since when do you call me that anymore, Nicholas?”

“Since you’re trying to dodge my question. That’s not going to work, you know.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Are you coming to my game or not?” He puts his blinker on before pulling into the senior lot.

“Nick.”

He parks the car before turning to face me head on. “So that’s a no.”

“Nick, come on.”

“Have you been to a game at all this year?”

“No, but ‒”

“Exactly. You didn’t go to a single game this year. And did I ever say anything? No. I never got mad or upset or anything because I knew how hard it was for you.”

“It still is hard.”

“That’s not good enough anymore! You know how important this game is to me!”

“You’re being unfair,” I say angrily.

He snorts. “I’m being unfair? Are you kidding me? I’m your boyfriend, last I checked. God forbid I ask for you to come support me at my last fucking home game.”

“You knew what you were signing up for. You knew that stuff like this was bound to happen,” I say, my voice rising.

“Yeah, but I thought that maybe, for once, you’d stop being so selfish and do this because you care about me.” He doesn’t look pissed anymore, just hurt, and that makes it even worse.

“Nick —”

“Just forget it.” Nick gets out of the truck and slams the door, swinging his backpack over his shoulder and stalking towards the building. I chase after him.

“Nick, come on, don’t be like this —”

“I said forget it!” he snaps. He storms away to where Will and Brady are waiting for him, throwing the rest of the doughnut in the trash as an act of spite. They glance back at me questioningly, but I wave them off.

Nick spends the next few days treating me like the village leper. But as far as I know, he didn’t tell anybody what was going on, because no one approaches me and demands to know why I won’t go to the game or if Nick and I have broken up after only a few weeks of dating, and I’m grateful to him for that.

Savannah and Ashley both bug me all week to tell them what’s wrong, but I don’t. I know that if I did, they would take his side, even without meaning to. They’d tell me to go to the game and see Nick because it’s his last game, it’s senior night, it determines the Falcons’ future, blah, blah, blah. I need to talk to someone whose life isn’t football, who will give me an objective answer.

So while walking home after school, I call Jase.

“Hello?” he says, sounding like he just woke up, even though it’s one o’clock where he is.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Jul.”

“How’s it going?”

“Okay, you?”

“Fine.” I chew a hangnail, trying to figure out what to say. Jase prompts, “Is something wrong?”

“Um, yeah.” I tell him the whole story, and when I finish, there’s silence of the other end. “Are you still there?” I ask.

There’s another pause, and then Jase says, “Wait . . . since when are you dating Nick Kingston?”

I close my eyes. “Since a few weeks ago. Anyway, Jase, that’s not my point.”

“Well, I can’t really give you good advice when you spring stuff like this on me,” Jase retorts. “And wait, why don’t you just ask Mom? She’s better at this chick-flick stuff than I am.”

“Because she’d just tell me to go,” I answer. “I need someone to look at this with me objectively.”

Jase sighs. “All right, okay. Well . . . what’s holding you back from going?”

“You know what’s holding me back.”

“Dad?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Jase snorts. “Really? Who cares about him?”

“I do!”

“Well he obviously didn’t care about us, because he left, remember?” Jase’s voice is hard. “He’s gone. So why are you still letting it affect you?”

“Because . . . I don’t know. Football was his thing. I spent so long associating the two of them together, it’s just hard to watch it without thinking of him.”

“I know,” he says, slightly gentler. “But like . . . it’s Nick’s thing too, isn’t it? So just stop associating it with Dad, and start associating it with Nick.”

“Easier said than done,” I mumble.

“Well . . . what would Nick do if the roles were reversed?”

“I dunno.”

“Yeah, you do. He’d support you no matter what. He’d be there for you. And you gotta do the same for him.”

“But —”

“You’ve never seen Nick play, have you?”

“Not recently.”

“This might be one of your only chances. Aren’t you even a little curious to see how he is?”

I have to admit, I am. It’s impossible to listen to what everyone says and read the newspaper articles and see the stats and not become just a tiny bit interested in how Nick plays, if he’s actually as amazing as the whole town seems to think.

“I guess so.”

I can practically hear Jase smiling. “He’s good, Jul. He’s real good.”

“How would you know? We were sophomores when you graduated.”

“I know. He was great back then. Imagine how he must be now.” It’s rare to hear Jase give compliments like these, so I figure they must count for something.

“Okay, I’ll go.”

“Good decision.”

“Thanks, Jase,” I say grudgingly.

“No problem, little sister. Say hi to Ma and James for me.”

“Got it.” I hang up and sigh. Talking to Jase made me realize that even though I’m afraid to go to the game and face the sport that tore apart my family again, Nick would surely do it for me, no questions needed. He’s put up with a lot of my shit for the past few months and hasn’t asked for anything in return. It’s time I gave him the support he’s always given me; the support he deserves.

▲ ▼ ▲

I decide it will be a lot better if I surprise Nick at his game, but that also means suffering through his silent treatment for the rest of the week. I accept it meekly, walking to school and not trying to force him to talk to me. He doesn’t bring up the topic of senior night again, and neither do I.

On Friday evening, I finish my shift at the diner and clock out. “What are you up to tonight?” Mom asks not-so-casually. I didn’t explicitly tell her what’s wrong between Nick and me, but it’s not hard to see, considering the fact that he actively avoids me at work. “Any fun plans?”

“Um, yeah,” I say finally. “I think I’m going to the game.”

She stops dead in her tracks. I’m surprised she doesn’t drop the dishes she’s holding. Slowly, she turns to face me. “Oh. Okay.”

“Is that cool?”

“No, no, yeah. That’s fine. That’s great, hon.” Mom hesitates before she asks, “What made you decide to go?”

I shrug. “Senior night and all. You know. Plus . . . Nick would do the same if it was me, wouldn’t he?”

Mom smiles. “Yes. He would.”

I change into a sweatshirt and yoga pants in the bathroom before I go. Mom offers to let me take the car, but I decline, and she tells me she’ll see me there. As I walk, I can hear the cheers of the crowd and the voices of the announcers and the music from the band long before the building makes its way into my line of vision.

The fences along the field are all decorated with streamers, balloons, and posters that have all of the senior athletes’ names on them. I scan them until I find NICK - CAPTAIN - #14 smack in the middle of the rest of the football ones, written in big letters. I smile.

I say hi to Anna, Kate, and Ashley, who are standing on the sidelines with the rest of the cheerleaders. They look shocked to see me. I don’t blame them. Then I spot Savannah up in the bleachers where the other seniors are sitting. I climb up the steps before sliding down next to her. “Hey.”

She blinks a few times, staring at me like she can’t believe I’m here. Hey,” she says after a second. “Fancy meeting you here.”

I shrug. “Yeah, well. What’d I miss?”

“Not much. The other team had the ball, but one of our guys caught it instead, so now it’s our turn, I guess.”

“Yeah,” I say. “That’s called an interception.” It feels so strange to have all of this knowledge that I carefully locked away resurface again. Jase and I used to study the playbook together until he and I both knew everything by heart. I could go out there right now and play the game if I needed to.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“How’s Nick doing?” I ask casually.

She smiles at me knowingly. “He’s doing great. But see for yourself.” I turn my head. Sure enough, there’s Nick, lining up with the rest of the team in their positions. Coach Taylor and the assistant coaches are standing on the sidelines, along with the rest of the team.

I watch as the ball is launched into Nick’s hands and the players begin to move. I can hear the announcer shouting their every motion, but it doesn’t register. All I’m concentrating on is him. Nick steps back a little bit, moving his arm like he’s going to throw a pass, but moves the ball to his non-throwing hand. The crowd roars as he fakes the pass and puts the ball behind his back. One of the backs, Derek Chapman, moving in the direction opposite the fake pass, takes the ball and starts running.

Suddenly, everyone is on their feet, watching as Derek runs down the field, dodging the opposing team, tripping and stumbling but still managing to keep going. Nick has been tackled already, but he’s sitting up and yelling something I can’t quite make out.

In a final burst of speed, Derek sprints into the endzone, and everyone screams. Savannah grabs me in a hug and we jump up and down as the band begins to play the fight song. Out on the field, the boys are all thumping Nick and Derek on their helmets, getting pumped up.

That sets the tone for the rest of the game: the Falcons move flawlessly, dodging players, making passes, and by the time halftime starts, we’re leading 35-21.

“So, whaddya think?” Savannah asks as we watch the boys file into the locker room.

I try to answer, but I can’t really find the right words to string together. The truth is, I’m in awe. It’s so obvious as to why people all over have been naming them the #1 high school football team in Texas; they’re a unit, a machine. Everyone works together like it’s a second nature to them.

But Nick is in the center of it all, so clearly the leader it makes my heart hurt. He gets a look in his eyes not unlike a wild animal’s, focusing on the play at hand and doing whatever it takes to succeed. He knows the boys, knows their every move, and they trust him with their lives. He’s their captain. I can’t help but wonder if my dad could tell the future, if this is what he saw when Nick first showed up to tryouts the summer before freshman year.

I know he’d be so proud right now. I am, too.

“Go down there,” Savannah says, nudging me. “He’ll want to see you. He didn’t think you’d come.” I feel a twinge of guilt at that, and she looks at me knowingly.

“I don’t wanna distract him.”

“Oh, please,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be so full of yourself.”

I laugh before getting up and going down the bleachers, making my way down to the fence. I lean against it and talk to Ashley, Kate, and Anna as I wait. Finally, the locker room door opens and the Falcons come back out, greeted with loud applause. Some of the guys wave to the crowd goofily, but Nick stares straight ahead, looking at the field like he’s already imagining the next play.

“He’s concentrating,” I say jokingly as the boys begin to stretch. “I’ll go back; I shouldn’t bother him.”

“Hold up,” Ashley says, holding up a finger “I’ll be right back.” I watch as she darts into the crowd of players; some of them are warming up, others are drinking water and stretching. I can vaguely hear her say, “Yo, Kingston. Someone’s here to see you.”

She comes back with Nick in tow, looking confused and annoyed. “I already saw my mom and dad, and I told you I really need to go over —” He stops short when he sees me, trailing off mid-sentence.

For a minute we just stare at each other. Then I say, “Hey.”

“You came?” he answers, looking at me like he can’t believe I’m here.

I nod, laughing a little. “Yeah. Of course I did. I couldn’t miss your senior night, could I?” When he doesn’t answer, just continues to stare, I go on, “You’re doing amazing out there. I mean, all of you, but like — ” I hesitate. “I’m really proud of you.”

Nick blinks at me, and I try to read his expression, but it’s too hard to see his face. Suddenly, he comes at me, and for a second I’m afraid he’s going to tackle me too. He whips off his helmet, leans over the fence, puts one hand on the back of my neck, and kisses me.

It’s nothing major, since we’re in public, but I can still hear everyone whooping and whistling. “Get a room,” Ashley calls. I give her the finger, putting my other hand on Nick’s face to pull him closer.

We’re interrupted when Coach Taylor barks, “Kingston! What in God’s name are you doing? Get the hell over here!”

Nick pulls back, grinning. “Yes Coach.” He looks back at me. “I’ll see you after the game?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” I say.

“Okay. Man, seeing you got me all bothered. I’m gonna have to play with a boner, and that sucks.”

“Gross,” I say, giving him a disgusted shove. “Just . . . get back out there.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says, still grinning. He salutes me before going back over to where a disapproving Coach Taylor is waiting with the rest of the coaches and captains, all of whom tease him as soon as he walks over. Will and Brady thump him on the back and ruffle his hair and Nick swats them away, but it’s good-natured.

The second half starts not long after that, and I find myself participating in all of the cheers and fight songs with the rest of the crowd. It feels good to be back here, back where I belong. I spot Mom and James a few rows away, and when I wave to them, Mom beams at me so hard it looks like her face might break in two.

We win 49-46, naturally. The crowd and the boys are all going wild because this means that we move onto the semi-finals. Even Nick allows himself to get excited, whooping and high-fiving the rest of the guys. After that, all of the seniors for the football team, cheer squad, and dance team come out with their parents to get honored. Their names get called, they walk across the field, and receive gifts from their underclassmen. Nick gets escorted by his mom, dad, and sister, and the applause he gets is overwhelming.

He’s grinning as he walks out, his arm around his mom. He shakes hands with the assistant coaches before getting to Coach Taylor, who says something quietly to him. Nick’s response makes him roll his eyes, but then he pulls Nick into an unexpected hug. Nick moves on and gets his award. His gift is given to him by two juniors, and then he finally joins the rest of the seniors at the end of the field.

After the ceremony, there’s really nothing else to do but go home, but I want to wait for Nick. He walks off the field with his parents and sister, and when he sees me his face lights up.

He turns and says something to his family, and they nod and break away from him. His mom sees me and waves. I wave back. Nick approaches me, looking somewhat shy. “Hey.”

“Hi. Great game.”

“Thanks.” He looks at his feet. “I’m, uh, glad you’re here.”

“Me too. I’m sorry about what happened before. I don’t know why I didn’t want to go, because you were great.”

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“No, it was good,” I say. “I needed it.”

“Hey, lovebirds!” a voice calls. It’s Ashley. “Want me to take your picture?”

“Yeah!” Nick agrees enthusiastically. “I want to remember this night.” I scoff, because honestly, could he be any more of a sap? But I give Ashley my phone and she takes a couple photos of Nick and I.

“These are cute,” Savannah says as she watches Ashley take them. “You guys are goals.” I roll my eyes. Nick merely smiles.

Later that night, I’m in my room, trying to decide if I should post a picture to Instagram or not. I figure that it’s my duty as a loyal girlfriend to at least do something for him, aside from sending him all of the photos. I scroll through and finally find one I really like: Nick’s holding his helmet in one hand and has his other arm around my shoulders. I’m leaning into his side, my hand on his chest, and we’re both smiling.

I mess around with it, putting a filter and adjusting the brightness and whatever, before I finally post it, making sure to tag Nick in it. I think about the caption for a little before I finally decide.

juliannacarter: Congrats to my bud on his last home game, proud of you!!

And then it’s off into cyberspace, for all of my classmates (and even some of my family) to see. I put my phone down and try to focus on finishing the Common App, ignoring the notifications I’m getting every few seconds.

After about an hour, I finally finish and pick up my phone again, unlocking it and seeing all of the likes and comments the photo got. Aside from the awws and so cute!s, Jase commented with a bunch of winking faces and Ashley commented photo creds to me thanks. The only one I’m really interested in is Nick’s, who comments who’s that handsome guy on the left???? please find out what shampoo he uses!!! I also see, to my surprise, that Nick himself has tagged me in a picture.

It’s one of the pictures that I sent to him from tonight. We’re in the same pose, except I’ve got the beginning of a grin on my face, like I’m about to start laughing. I’m looking beyond the camera, probably at Savannah or something, but Nick is looking at me, and he’s smiling.

nick_kingston: senior night with the homie #cheesin #jules

I roll my eyes at his dumb caption, but like it and even comment with a heart. Nick must see it, because he texts me a bunch of smiley faces before FaceTiming me. “Hiya,” he says brightly. “What’s up?”

“Hey. Just finished the Common App. You?”

He whistles. “Wowza. I just took a shower and then ate an entire plate of fried chicken.”

“You’re clearly the winner here.”

Nick and I spend the rest of the night filling each other in about the things that happened during the week (since we weren’t speaking at the time they happened). Nick moans about his Calculus test on Monday and all of the AP Bio homework Dr. Grant gave us over the weekend, but I force him to promise me he’ll study. Then we talk about Thanksgiving, which is this Thursday.

“Jase coming home?” Nick asks.

“Nah. He usually just comes home for Christmas. What about Mariah?”

“Yeah, she decided there’s no point in going back for only a few days, so she’s just staying here.”

“Cool.”

We talk a little bit more about school, work, and our friends before he starts to yawn. I look at the time and see it’s past midnight. “You should go to sleep,” I say. “Do you have to get up early tomorrow?”

“No. Coach gave us the day off since we won tonight,” Nick says, stifling another yawn. “But I’m okay, honest.”

“You need your rest. Sleep in late tomorrow, okay? I’ll see you later.” I don’t like the way the dark circles under Nick’s eyes are beginning to look permanently etched into his skin.

“Yes Mom,” he snickers. I roll my eyes, but then he gets serious. “Look, I’m really glad you came tonight. It meant a lot to me.”

“I know it did. I’m glad I came too. I missed it.”

He smiles. “Night, sunshine.”

“Night.”

I hang up and lie in bed for a while, smiling up at my ceiling.