The game was over, and Veterans Memorial Stadium was starting to empty. The flash interview with the star of the night, Andrew, had already wrapped up. Right now, Andrew was in the locker room with the rest of the team.
Outside, near the main entrance, students and families mingled: players' relatives and others who had stayed behind to chat a little longer. Bosco fans without close friends on the roster or guys on the team slipped away quickly, in silence: after a loss like that, there wasn't much reason to stick around.
Andrew's family, of course, was there: Mitchell, Phil, Jay, Alex, Haley… along with Leonard and Willa.
The Mater Dei section was pure celebration. They rehashed key plays, the defense's solid stretch, the control of the tempo… but, above all, Andrew's seven touchdowns.
"Whew, that was insane…" said Mitchell, taking a long sip from a freshly bought bottle of cold water. At last he could relax his shoulders. The rollercoaster was over, and his son had delivered on his word.
The game hadn't been even remotely close: a win by more than twenty. Still, watching Andrew march down the field series after series, deliver pinpoint passes, touchdown after touchdown, and fulfill his promise… it had been thrilling for everyone. It was like watching a show, history in the making.
"Yeah," Claire agreed, having carried the brunt of the media pressure all week. "It all came out perfect. And seeing the Bosco stands go quiet from the third quarter on was… satisfying," she added with a half-smile.
Jay was laughing heartily as he chatted with the grandparents of Nick, Víctor, and Sedric, whom he'd met back in the first September games.
"Andresito doesn't talk just to talk! It was only a matter of time," Gloria exclaimed, never once as nervous as Mitchell or Claire had been.
"I told you I saw him locked in all week. Best game of his life!" Phil cheered excitedly. "And where were you, champ?" he asked Luke.
Phil usually spent games hugging and cheering with his son, but today, caught up in the action, he had only realized in the fourth quarter that Luke wasn't anywhere in sight.
"I went with Howard, Haley, and Willa over to the Mater Dei student section! It was awesome! One of the guys even lifted me up on his shoulders while everyone jumped around," Luke said, sweaty and grinning from ear to ear.
"That's youth!" Phil said, slapping him a high-five.
Thankfully, Claire hadn't heard Luke mention being hoisted up in the middle of a wild wave of teenagers. It was better that way.
"I sweated like a pig…" Haley complained, fanning herself. "Hope it didn't ruin my makeup."
Willa, standing next to her with arms crossed, didn't reply; she was scanning the sea of people. Leonard, nearby, was completely absorbed in his phone screen.
But a Mater Dei boy with brown hair and a backwards cap did answer. "Didn't ruin a thing. And if it had, you'd still look amazing," he said with a gallant smile.
He was a junior. Not much of a football fan, but the buzz around school and the "beatdown" had dragged him to the stadium. He'd ended up near Haley and dared to flirt, with unexpectedly good results. The banter flowed, he didn't get the "get lost, creep" look, nothing too obvious… but not bad either.
His taller, broad-shouldered friend tried the same with Willa, assuming she was Haley's friend. It went terribly: not even a smile, just the coldest of side-glances. Still, he hadn't given up yet. She was way too pretty for that, and she hadn't outright told him to stop bothering her.
"Don't lie," Haley laughed, giving the boy a playful tap on the arm.
"I'm serious," he insisted. "You're gorgeous. A little sweat won't change that."
Leonard finally looked up from his phone, raising an eyebrow. 'How can he drop such a corny line with so much confidence?' he thought. He couldn't decide if it was cringe or worthy of respect.
Besides, did this kid even know he was hitting on the cousin of Mater Dei's star? Probably not. In a packed stadium, there were always new faces. And while there was nothing wrong with talking to Haley, Leonard had noticed that Andrew was… a bit protective.
Not in a toxic or meddling way, nothing like how Haley herself behaved when a new girl showed interest in Andrew, but Andrew did prefer to keep jerks at bay. After all, he'd been raised by Claire.
And, let's be honest: having a six-foot-plus, 200-pound guy stare you down with a neutral or unfriendly look is intimidating. Even more so when you've just watched that same guy torch Bosco for seven touchdowns and have half the country buzzing about him.
"Oh, right," said the boy in the cap. "One of the cheerleaders is throwing a party. It's gonna be awesome, especially after tonight's win. If you want to come…"
He looked at Haley and then at Willa. "Your friend can come too."
He knew his friend liked the girl with the icy expression, so he wanted to give him a hand. Besides, since they were friends, it would've been rude to only invite one of them.
Willa was about to snort a keep dreaming, but held back; she knew Haley thought the guy with the cap was cute, and she didn't want to ruin it for her.
"Tempting," Haley said with a little smile, "but I can't. After every game we have dinner with the family to celebrate. And tonight, more than ever, there's plenty to celebrate."
The boy blinked. "Wait, someone in your family's on the team?" he asked.
Otherwise it wouldn't make sense for the whole family to have a late dinner just because of the game. It made sense for the players, since their last meal had been a light one around four or five in the afternoon.
"Yeah, my cousin, he's number 19," Haley answered casually, smiling.
The boy in the cap froze for a second. His friend opened his mouth but said nothing.
"Hold up, number 19… your family's Andrew Pritchett-Tucker?" he asked, incredulous.
"Yep, that's him," Haley confirmed, amused.
"Wow. I mean… wow," the boy repeated, regaining his composure as best he could. He cleared his throat, coughed a couple of times, glancing around as if afraid Andrew might see him trying to flirt with his family.
Still, he gathered his courage and asked, "Can I get your number? I mean, just in case… I don't know, to let you know if there's another party, one that's not on game night."
Haley laughed. "Alright," she said, dictating her number.
The cap boy's friend tried to salvage something from his wreck with Willa. "Can I get yours too? Even if it's just… I don't know, to talk about something," he mumbled.
'Oh, man… you've gotta know when to quit,' Leonard thought, shaking his head internally. It was obvious the guy had zero chance of getting Willa's number.
Willa looked at him, one eyebrow raised, and answered dryly and firmly, "No."
"Why not?" he pressed. Since he was leaving with a "no," he at least wanted a reason, no matter how lame.
Willa sighed and, summoning the last bit of patience she had left, replied, "I don't like younger guys."
"Younger? How old are you?" He brushed his bangs back, as if that might bump him up a tier.
"Eighteen."
The boy went blank for a second. She didn't look like someone who had already finished high school. At last, he got the point. He nodded, muttered a "fair enough," and after his friend said goodbye to Haley, the two disappeared into the sea of jerseys.
Willa let out a huff of relief. "Finally. The things I endure just so a guy can flirt with you," she said to Haley, half joking, half serious.
Haley laughed, grateful. "Thanks, girl. But admit it, you were a little cruel to the other guy."
"Cruel?" Willa replied with elegant coldness. "I gave him signs all night that I wasn't interested. If he can't read them, that's not my problem."
Leonard, who had been following the whole scene with his phone in hand, looked up with a crooked smile.
"So… you don't like guys younger than you?" Leonard asked, in an innocent tone that carried another edge.
Willa turned to him, shooting daggers with her eyes. "Exactly. Is that a problem?"
Leonard raised his hands immediately. "None at all. By the way, where's Howard?" he asked, steering the focus away.
"I saw him with the camera around here. Still interviewing people after the game. Very professional," Alex commented, arms crossed, watching the crowd.
"What a hardworking cameraman. I'll have to ask Andrew to give him a raise," Haley joked, earning a small laugh from Willa at her side.
Not far from them stood Daniel, Georgia's lead scout. He had traveled more than two thousand miles just to watch Andrew's game. The long trip from Athens to Long Beach had been more than worth it.
He had already spotted Andrew's family among the crowd. He'd studied their faces from the photos circulating in local media and on social networks: the stern-faced grandfather, the two dads, the redhead and the bigger-built one, the baby sister, the uncles…
His phone vibrated. The name on the screen didn't surprise him. It was Mark Richt, head coach of the Bulldogs.
"Coach," he answered, moving toward a quieter area. "Yes. What you saw on TV was real… And I'll tell you more: live, it was even more spectacular."
"Yeah… Seven touchdowns. Six through the air, one on the ground. Zero interceptions. The tempo he imposes is uncommon. If we keep Jeff's metaphor… today I saw the wings," Daniel said, still stunned by what he had witnessed.
Jeff, the offensive coordinator, had said in the very first meeting back in August, when he first heard about Andrew, that if he kept up that pace, he'd be a unicorn with wings.
"I knew I might see something special, but he blew right past my expectations. Nobody saw this coming. I'm almost certain it's the best individual performance in recent Trinity League history. No quarterback had ever put seven on Bosco. None."
He fell silent, listening to Mark, nodding slightly.
"So that celebration was for a mute kid?" Daniel asked, after Richt told him what he'd picked up from the live postgame interview with Andrew minutes earlier.
"Well, that's going to be gold for headlines in the coming days. A gesture to a mute boy who admires him, and not once did he celebrate any of the touchdowns arrogantly. No dances, no taunts, nothing. That 'cocky' image some people tagged him with after the blowout… gone in a second. People are going to realize it was just a slip of the tongue. They're going to love him."
"Exactly, the full package: generational talent, charisma, discipline, and showmanship… Tonight he became a national phenomenon, and he's only in his junior year."
There was a brief pause. Then Richt's calm voice came through the line: "Make contact. Discreetly, the way we discussed. Nothing outside the rules."
Daniel nodded. "Understood. I've already spotted the family. I'll wait until he comes out of the locker room, then I'll make my move."
He hung up, pocketed the phone, and waited. His brow furrowed when he noticed a familiar man approaching Andrew's family.
'Derrick from UCLA…' Daniel thought.
It wasn't surprising to see him there; it made perfect sense that other colleges would send their people after the stir this game had caused.
But the ease with which Derrick approached Andrew's family unsettled him. He greeted them like old acquaintances. Of course, it was normal. Andrew had made an unofficial visit to UCLA just weeks earlier. They were close to home; it was easy to build that kind of familiarity.
For Georgia and other distant programs, it wasn't the best sign.
Then the noise shifted. The fading murmur of the stadium was replaced by sudden applause and cheers: the Mater Dei players were spilling out of the locker room, carried by laughter, playful shoves, and sweat-soaked hugs of euphoria.
Andrew was at the front, shoulder to shoulder with Kevin, the defensive leader. He walked calmly, speaking quietly, gym bag slung across his chest, hair still damp from a quick shower.
The first Mater Dei students began clapping and chanting his name. Some even stepped closer to congratulate him. Andrew smiled, nodded, exchanged a few high-fives, and thanked them with simple gestures, not slowing much. His goal was clear, find his family.
Before he could advance, a group of kids intercepted him. But they weren't Mater Dei students. They were subscribers to his channel, who had bought neutral-zone tickets just to watch him play live.
"Andrew, a picture!" one of them begged, eyes shining, phone in hand.
"I've been subbed since a hundred K!" another shouted, waving his phone.
Andrew blinked in surprise. 'Since the hundred thousand?' he thought. That one was a veteran, if he wasn't lying. He smile ear to ear and agreed: selfies, quick autographs on shirts and scraps of cardboard… all in a couple of minutes.
Then he resumed his pace and finally spotted his parents, grandfather, uncles, and the rest. He said goodbye to his teammates and began to approach with a smile.
Although for many teams it was customary to head to a local pizzeria or restaurant together after a game, Andrew didn't do that.
Not because he was antisocial, or because he didn't care about his team. He had simply been with them all day since eight in the morning: travel, warmups, the game… By this hour, he preferred to spend time with his family, have dinner, even if it was eleven at night, and then hang out in a chill get-together with Leonard, Howard, Willa, Haley…
"There's my grandson!" boomed Jay's voice before anyone else, rushing forward with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. He spread his arms and hugged Andrew tight, almost smothering him, patting his back with thuds like drumbeats.
Andrew raised an eyebrow, enduring the onslaught, and returned a couple of equally awkward pats on his grandfather's back. Over his shoulder, he shot Gloria a look that said: What the hell is going on with him?
Gloria's response was crystal clear, she mimed drinking from a bottle. Yep, Jay had had one too many, and his over-the-top euphoria was all the proof anyone needed.
The rest turned into a string of hugs and congratulations.
"And you called me a sadist?" Willa said with a smile, "All of Bosco will have nightmares about you tonight."
Leonard couldn't help but notice the contrast: minutes ago Willa had shut down a stranger with absolute coldness, and now she was smiling warmly at Andrew. The contrast was… peculiar.
"What can I say?" Andrew replied, shrugging. "I had to keep my word."
"The kid who dabbed at the start must want to bury himself alive," Haley said, laughing.
"Yeah," Leonard agreed with a faint smile. "Totally backfired on him."
"Serves him right," Willa scoffed with disdain. "Trying to act cocky without the level to back it up… pathetic."
"Now he'll think twice before doing a showy celebration when the opposing offense hasn't even taken the field," added Alex, ever the logical one.
"Yeah, deserved! He won't be able to sleep tonight!" Luke exclaimed, joining in enthusiastically.
"Hey, don't be cruel. It could cause him problems," Claire cut in, her tone cautionary. "You wouldn't like it if something like that happened to someone close to you."
Haley gave her a half-smirk. "Oh, come on, Mom… you're not exactly the best one to preach here. I bet deep down you're enjoying that kid's misery too."
Claire froze for a couple of seconds, expression stiff. Then, with perfect nonchalance, she turned her head toward Cam and Mitch. "So… what are we having for dinner? Should we order some pizzas?" she asked as if nothing had happened, shamelessly changing the subject.
Andrew was about to laugh inwardly at his aunt's abrupt shift when he noticed a figure on the edge of the group: Derrick, from UCLA. He had stepped back a few paces, giving Andrew space to reunite with his family.
"Derrick, sorry, I didn't see you," Andrew said, greeting him.
Derrick smiled as he came closer. "No worries. Congratulations on the game. I'm sure everyone's told you already, but… seven touchdowns don't happen every day. Especially not at this level…"
Andrew nodded. "Thanks. I appreciate you coming."
"It's nothing, I couldn't miss it…" Derrick waved it off. "I just wanted to congratulate you… and wish you luck for the next one. Servite won, did you hear?"
"Yeah, one of the staff told me in the locker room," Andrew confirmed.
Servite had beaten JSerra. The league champion would be decided next Friday at Mater Dei's stadium.
"It'll be a huge game, and I'm pretty sure they'll broadcast it nationally again… which I think would be a record," Derrick said, hand on his chin. "Anyway, I've got to go. Just wanted to say hi. My wife and daughter are waiting in the car. And you pulled off something I thought impossible: my goth daughter actually came out of the house to watch a football game. Just out of curiosity, she said. So keep it up."
Andrew blinked in surprise at that last comment, cracking a crooked smile as he watched Derrick fade into the crowd.
It wasn't long before another man pushed through: Daniel, Georgia's recruiter. His arrival surprised everyone; they already knew him from letters and emails, but hadn't expected to see him in person so soon. He introduced himself quickly, exchanged a few short words with Andrew, just enough to leave his mark, before stepping away.
But Daniel wasn't the only one. Soon after came Chris Bailey, Alabama's lead recruiter, all the way from Tuscaloosa. The reigning 2009–2010 national champion program had sent one of Nick Saban's trusted men.
Bailey wasted no time mentioning one of the heaviest names in college football: "Coach Saban's already watching you," he said before leaving.
Then came others: a scout from Florida, another from LSU. And not just from the SEC; there were also representatives from the Big Ten, Big 12, even the ACC, all eager to make sure Andrew saw their faces.
Each meeting was brief, just a couple of minutes, quick introductions, polite words. One after another, until finally the parade ended and the family group could breathe again.
It wasn't long before Howard showed up, camera still hanging from his neck, excitement still buzzing. According to him, he had more than four hours of footage, including fan reactions, even from Bosco supporters.
"No Bosco fans try to punch you for shoving a mic in their face after that humiliation?" Haley asked as the group made their way toward the parking lot.
Howard laughed smugly, as if the question was absurd. "Please, I'm no amateur. Didn't you see my outfit? Neutral. No red, no blue. I played it off as a rookie journalist and everything went perfectly."
That's how the night closed: a historic victory, seven touchdowns, and a parade of scouts.
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