Fantasy Football Read online

  Chapter 1

  The game of football bored me beyond tears. I just couldn’t grasp the concept of a bunch of overgrown sweaty goliaths bashing into one another. In my opinion, the clunking of the players’ shoulder pads was equivalent to fingernails on a chalkboard. Both acts had me grinding my teeth.

  I clicked a photo of center Devin O’Grady just as he snapped the ball between his legs to quarterback Trent Cummins. The fans in the stands roared loud enough to drown out the cheerleaders on the sidelines.

  Baseball; now that was my sport of interest. Hands down, baseball was far more entertaining to watch than football. From spectacular diving catches in the outfield, to triple plays, hitting through the cycle, and the nail biting edge-of-your-seat no-hitters. Those were the components that made baseball America’s favorite past time.

  The only reason why I knew so much about football was because of my father. Football was his favorite sport. He was a quarterback in high school as well as his freshman year in college, until he was sidelined by a knee injury. But every Sunday afternoon from August through February, our living room turned into football party central station.

  I snapped another photo of Trent throwing a forward pass to wide receiver Boyd Canton. If only I was able to capture the football spiraling through the air towards its destination. A spider suctioned to the ball, hanging on for dear life, would easily get dizzy.

  A bulky middle-aged security guard tapped me on the shoulder and said, “I need to see your ID.” I had the strong urging to roll my eyes at his ill-timed inquiry, especially with our team now at first and goal.

  It was a chilly fifty degrees, so naturally I wore my Cubs windbreaker zipped all the way up to my chin. When I unzipped my jacket past my sternum, I felt the fall breeze embrace my ribs with a grim reaper death grip. Oh, how I loathed frigid weather. And I considered any temperature below seventy degrees, cold.

  “It’s here somewhere,” I said, swiping my hands under my coat to grab the silver chain where my ID hung.

  My hands fumbled around the inside of my coat and I was certain to the straight-faced security dude, it appeared like I was feeling myself up. I finally extracted my ID and allowed Mr. Personality to take a peek.

  He glanced at my photo, then me. He scrutinized me longer than I was comfortable with. How long did it take to confirm the similarities of my long auburn hair, emerald colored eyes, and medium complexion? Was he checking for exact acne placement as well?

  “Thank you, Miss Parker Collins. You need to wear your ID on the outside of your jacket,” he barked at me, waddling away.

  With his remark I didn’t hold back on the eye roll. In fact, I made sure I did it twice and topped it off with an exaggerated sigh. Well, excuse me. I’m new to this gig and wasn’t aware of the do’s and don’ts, I thought to myself.

  My cell phone jingled from inside my coat pocket. The screen displayed my best friend’s name, Nikki Chesney. “So, what did the Incredible Hulk want?” she asked.

  I spun around towards the stands full of spectators to see if I could peg Nikki out from the gazillion fans. But all I saw were a bunch of bright lights blinding my view, dark skies, and the white outline of the press box.

  “He asked me out to dinner and dancing,” I replied wryly.

  “Funny, Parker…you’re a real comedian. But you better turn your attention back to the game before you miss a great shot.”

  “Then don’t call me, you spazz.” I disconnected the line before Nikki could fire off a rebuttal.

  Timing was everything. I shoved the phone back in my pocket and heard the shutter click at the precise moment Willie Williams tackled an opposing player to avoid a sack on Trent.

  Through the telephoto lens I could see the relief in Trent’s hazel eyes. The devil on my left shoulder told me to capture the fear in his bulging eyes on film. But the angel on my right shoulder nudged me back from stepping over the line of evil.

  And as if Trent was able to read my mind, his head tilted in my direction and he glared right through the camera lens, straight into my right eye. His stare penetrated my pupil and reached the core of my soul. It was creepy. Like, horror movie creepy.

  My last shot of the night was Trent’s quarterback sneak taken at the line of scrimmage. I caught him in mid-air, diving over a swarm of players. Damn, even I was impressed with my photographic skills.

  The Mason Mustangs were undefeated with one win and zero losses. Okay, so the season just begun, but our high school won its first game and the excitement from the over-zealous fans would no doubt carry straight through to Homecoming just three weeks away.

  The players celebrated their victory with such intense emotion; you’d think they’d just won the Super Bowl. They marched off the field, bouncing around as if someone sprinkled itching powder in their jocks. Jeez, it was just one game.

  I spotted Casey Whitmore interviewing Trent for the school newspaper. Casey had joined the school’s newspaper freshman year, and now my fellow senior was Editor-in-Chief. The prestigious title went straight to her oblong head, and she promptly joined the ranks of the Barbie Doll Bitch Society(aka: BDBS) right alongside head cheerleader, Amber Zell.

  Amber and Casey had more than snootiness and a tiny physique in common. They both dated Trent Cummins last spring. As did gymnast, Whitney Bell; tennis player, Ashley Meeks; and actress, Melissa Spaulding. Hell, the list just went on and on.

  Who wasn’t on that ever-growing list? Yes, it would be me! I didn’t belong on the list, nor did I want to be. I wasn’t Trent’s type…aka: beautiful. It wouldn’t matter anyway since I refused to be another notch on his Tiger Woods golf club, or to add to his Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade blowup head that floated high above the peon crowd.

  With Casey conducting her interview I felt compelled to take a few shots. Like I said, I was new to the gig. The only reason I joined the school’s newspaper as the photographer was because my predecessor truly sucked at it. I had actually stopped forking over a dollar for the newspaper last year because my stomach churned at the sight of his blurry photos and headless athletes.

  When I approached Casey and Trent, I nearly gagged on my own saliva when Casey asked Trent whom the lucky girl was that he‘d be accompanying to Homecoming. She swooshed her long brown silky hair away from her flawless tan complexion with the back of her hand. You had to have an I.Q. of negative infinity to not know Casey was flirting, with her bright smile and Victoria Secret cleavage. Did she really think he would ask her there and then?

  Was I resentful? The jury was still in deliberation on that. Every girl at Mason High fantasized over dating Trent. To say I wasn’t attracted to Trent would be a huge fib. He was six feet of hotness.

  Everyone knew he came to school early every morning to run four miles around the track and lift weights in the spare gymnasium. The freckles across the bridge of his tiny nose gave him the boy next-door appearance. Even with helmet head, his brown-ratted hair didn’t take away from his sex appeal.

  Trent Cummins, however, didn’t give girls like me a second glance. I wasn’t athletic, I wasn’t intelligent...I was mediocre and somewhat of a smart ass. It was just how I was and I blamed my own mother for that. I mean, when your own mother doesn’t think you’re smart or gorgeous, it conveys quite a strong message. It was no secret she favored my two sisters over me.

  My sister Emily, also known as the beauty queen, was a year older than me. She graduated in June of this year and immediately enrolled in Cosmetology school. Mariah was a year younger. The girl was a brainiac and never had to study a day in her life to achieve the Principal’s list. Where did that leave me? I was the middle child, diagnosed with the Jan Brady Syndrome. But at least I never suffered an identity crisis and paraded around in a huge
brown wig.

  “I haven’t decided yet, Casey.” Trent angled his head in my direction and gave me a once over. I couldn’t tell if his glare was one of repulsiveness or annoyance.

  Casey’s blue eyes widened with hope. “Well, it’s not like you don’t have my phone number, Trent,” she said giggling. Ugh.

  Trent finally turned his gaze off me. It wasn’t until he returned his attention back to Casey that I realized I had stopped breathing. “I need to hit the showers,” he told Casey, and trotted off without uttering a single word to me.

  Denied. I felt like I just witnessed a hit and run on Casey and it was bittersweet. I turned her around to check the back of her school jacket, which I thought she should zip up before she caught a chest cold.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she snapped.

  “Checking for tire tracks.”

  It was no big secret that the two of us despised one another. We butted heads everyday in class about story ideas, headline captionings, and the layout of the newspaper in general. But she was the editor and I was a newbie photographer. Apparently I was too green to know what was best for our school paper. Screw her. Our teacher, Mr. Morrison was the true navigator of the school’s newspaper.

  “Just have your pictures to me first thing Monday morning. And they better be crystal clear.”

  I saluted Casey with my middle finger. “Have a nice weekend,” I said in a patronizing tone.

  Nikki was waiting for me in the parking lot. I jumped in her silver Civic and cranked the heat up. “For the love of God, if you’d put some meat on those bones you wouldn’t be chilly all the dang time,” Nikki growled, turning the heat down.

  “Just close your vent for five minutes,” I pleaded. “I swear, I’m afraid to touch my nose

  in fear it’ll shatter into hundreds of tiny ice pellets.”

  I’ve argued the fat theory with Nikki ever since grade school. The brutal sub-zero winter temps never chilled her to the bone. She melted in seventy-degree temps and was comfortable when it was only twenty degrees outside.

  Nikki lived in the wrong state. She needed to live in Alaska or maybe even in Greenland. But Nikki always believed her extra body fat contributed to her tolerance against the bitter cold. The girl was odd, and I liked her for that. She was a selfless best friend and an incredible neighbor. She never once pretended to be something she wasn’t, and she wasn’t insecure about her extra weight, either.

  In all seriousness I thought Nikki was gorgeous. Her long blond hair sported huge bouncy curls. Her deep blue eyes were like orbs that rendered you speechless. Her eyes were magically captivating; it was like a Medusa affect. But instead of turning to stone, you felt compelled to babble like a lunatic and tell her your deepest, darkest secrets. And her dimpled smile was bright and sincere.

  Nikki was wholesome. She never cussed and frowned on anyone who did. It wasn’t an easy task, but I refrained the best I could from swearing in front of her. All I knew was she was the only one I consistently apologized to on a daily basis.

  “Trent was awesome tonight, wasn’t he?” Nikki asked as she turned out of the school’s parking lot.

  Oh no, I thought. Not another smitten kitten on the prowl. It didn’t take a psychic to predict the outbreak of upcoming catfights amongst every girl at Mason High as Trent pondered his headlining homecoming date selection.

  I had to interject before Nikki could continue her praising. “Devin O’Grady protected Trent’s ass a lot. He made some great blocks tonight.”

  “Butt.”

  “But what?”

  Nikki huffed. “You said ass. It’s butt.”

  “Do we really have to do this Bud Abbott and Lou Costello gig again? Ass is not a swear word.” I rolled my eyes and smirked. “Okay, Devin protected Trent’s donkey a lot.”

  “Sorry, I really didn’t notice.” Nikki took a right-hand turn off the main road and into our sub-division. It was nearing ten o’clock on a Friday night and the streets were already deserted. “I was too occupied fantasizing on being Trent’s homecoming queen.”

  “What’s so special about Trent?”

  Nikki gave me a sideways glare. I obviously asked a brainless question. Well, maybe to her and every straight girl with less than perfect vision, the question was moronic. Trent was every girl’s fantasy dream come true. He was fairly handsome. He had muscles in all the right places, and his pants actually contoured his backside. I liked that. It bugged me to see a guy who had a smaller ass than mine.

  I read somewhere that sixty to seventy percent of the human body was made up of water. In my opinion, however, Trent Cummins’ body was made up of seventy percent cow dung and thirty percent cold-hearted blood. And I came to that conclusion the day he dumped my sister Emily just two days before prom. She had dished out almost two hundred dollars on a beautiful black laced and sequin dress that was non-refundable. His excuse was he had another commitment.

  Mind you, I’m not close to either of my sisters. But that night, Emily had cried tormenting tears. The skin around her puffy brown eyes sported tiny red bumps to match the popped blood vessels in the whites of her scleras. Anger boiled inside me at her misery. I should have been ecstatic to see her suffer, but I did have a heart and no one messes with my family.

  After I learned that Trent ditched Emily for Casey, I had Nikki drive me to the school that night. We scoured the parking lot to search out Trent’s black Altima. There were a few in the lot, but his stood out thanks to the white pin striping and customized license plate. I let the air out of all four tires and spray painted the word, Loser, across his windshield.

  Nikki pulled into my circular driveway and stopped in perfect alignment to the front door of my sprawling brick ranch home. “You never answered my question,” I said to Nikki.

  “One date with Trent would change my world,” she replied, her tone serious and sincere. “I just want to experience his full lips on mine…just once.”

  “He’s a womanizer.”

  “I really don’t care, Parker. I’m a senior in high school and I just want to be kissed.”

  Nikki’s odd behavior had me raising an eyebrow. Since when did she care about the popular clique? Every single one of them strutted the halls with sticks up their asses. Why would she set her kissing goal so high, and on Trent Cummins?

  “Boyd Canton kissed you, and he’s somewhat popular.”

  “Pfft, right.” Nikki rolled her eyes. “That was back in the eighth grade, and on a dare.”

  “I’m pretty sure that dare didn’t include tongue.”

  Nikki smiled. “He was a good kisser. Guess we’re too old to play spin the bottle, huh?” Before I could slip out of the car Nikki asked, “Are we doing anything tomorrow, like the mall?”

  “Can’t. I’ve got a ton of homework, and I have to develop my pictures somewhere in between cleaning, laundry, and whatever else my mother figure throws at me. I’ll call you though.”

  I entered the huge foyer, kicking off my shoes before an ounce of dirt befouled the green marble tile. The cascading gold-plated chandelier above my head was left on, no doubt to remind myself, shoes off!

  Across from the foyer was the living room. Soft orange embers glowed underneath the charred wood in the stone fireplace. The television mounted above the fireplace lit up the room. I could see the top of my mother’s brown hair over the black leather recliner chair. She was grasping the stem of her wine glass resting on a round table next to her. I knew not to disturb her, so I bypassed any greetings and salutations and ducked down the stairs to the basement.

  When my father passed away last fall from a brain aneurysm, my mother delved into a career of interior design to occupy herself. She hired his construction worker friends to gut the house like a fish, and stuff the innards with new beginnings.

  The basement was transformed from a dreary bug infested cesspool, to sixteen hundred square feet of insanity. There was a full-sized bar with a flat screen television mounted above the sink, between two liquor c
abinets. A regulation-sized pool table with two matching bar chairs was set up across from the bar. And a theatre room stocked with assorted candy and a popcorn cart was in the far corner of the room.

  My bedroom was also in the basement. I actually requested it, along with a dark room to develop my pictures. For my sixteenth birthday my parents bought me a Nikon F6, along with all the developing equipment, as opposed to a car. I know, right? What sixteen-year-old turns down a car?

  Since grade school, I had a passion for taking pictures. I found beauty in sunsets, lightning, daggered icicles hanging on for dear life from tree branches, and even cemeteries.

  My favorite black and white photo I took hung on my bedroom wall. Despite my strong dislike against the winter season, the eight by ten photo of a tree-lined driveway covered in snow on a gray and foggy day was simply breathtaking.

  After my father’s death, Mom found solace in a glass of wine or two. I found comfort in my dark room. It had nearly transformed me into a hermit, but I truly didn’t mind. It at least kept a satisfying distance between my family and me. I don’t even recall when sisterly love went askew and became sibling rivalry. What’s done is done. And not even the death of my father rectified the falling out with my sisters and me.

  It was ten-thirty on a Friday night and the house was quiet. Emily was probably out on a date with her boyfriend, and Mariah was probably hanging out with her girlfriends at the movies. That left me alone with a backpack full of books and a soft cozy bed. I had a tough decision to make: homework or sleep? I chose sleep…wrong choice.

  Chapter 2

  The fiery orange sun fell low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the opaque ocean waters. The sand glistened tiny crystals across the beach that reminded me of a canister filled with powdered Nestle Iced Tea. The tide rushed towards me, causing the warm sand between my toes to form clumps of sticky goop. But I didn’t mind because I was with him.

  We gazed forever into each other’s eyes. My hands gripped tightly in his to remind myself I was actually with him on this perfect summer night. A light breeze danced above the ocean and swirled around us with an intoxicating aroma. I felt compelled to bottle it up and sell it as a love potion.