“You were personally requested by Coach Bainridge. Apparently, you did something right with Duncan."
What the hell? "Really?"
Coach smiles and kicks his feet up on the desk. "In my opinion, you've gotten under Duncan's skin, and in a good way. I've never seen him work this hard, and according to what the football coaches tell me, he's been doing the same during practice."
"Gotten under his skin," I repeat, thinking about how much Duncan's gotten under my skin by insisting on working out shirtless unless we are doing squats or lying down for bench presses, and the near-constant innuendo he's worked into almost every conversation.
He's still been coming in to get his elbow and his wrists wrapped before every practice, and he's insisted that I be the one to do it. It's benefited me in some ways, though. I get to pour out my frustrations into the weight room more easily. “Coulda’ fooled me. If you ask me, he seems to enjoy attempting to torment me.”
“Well, whatever the case, you’ve had a positive effect on him, and everyone sees it. And don't lie to yourself—you’ve seemed to gain some confidence and work harder than ever yourself."
"Thanks . . . I think," I say, but I'm pleased either way. It was hard work, but I'm proud that Coach Taylor noticed my effort. “I had to push myself just to get him off his lazy ass."
"Uh-huh," Coach sarcastically says, not believing a bit of it. "Carrie, a hint. I've been in this game longer than you've been alive, and I won't lie to you. I've had more than a few workouts fueled by some attractive woman nearby. But don't let it go deeper than that with Duncan, okay? I know I’m not your father or older brother, but . . . he's bad news. He’s a man’s man on the field, but he’s got some growing up to do off it.”
I take a deep breath, knowing he’s trying his best to be friendly and look out for me. He does that from time to time. “So I’ve noticed. You don’t have to worry about me. I appreciate the responsibility, though.”
“Don’t thank anyone just yet. It’s not going to be a walk in the park. The football coaches want Duncan happy and playing hard, so if he wants you on the sidelines, well, that’s probably where you’ll be. Make sure you’re ready to put up with his shit for the whole season.”
Football. Big opportunities lay with people who get slots to work the sidelines for football. But at the same time, I have to be careful not to get tagged as Duncan's next conquest, the next in his long line of Touchdowns.
Still, I can’t pass up the chance. “I’m ready, coach. When do I need to be here?"
"The players have to report at nine tomorrow morning. We start getting ready at eight. You get tagged with a lot of grunt work, Carrie—setting up water stations, towels, crap like that. We start tape-ups at eleven. A guy like Duncan will get his closer to game time, say noon or so, so I'll pull you to the stadium training room then. Game time is actually the easiest."
"Oh, that'll be nice," I say. "I've never seen a game in the stadium before. Too busy with my bookwork."
"Well, hold onto your hat, Carrie. Because tomorrow, you get to see your first game."
I'm nervous as the players start filing in for the game, coming off the team bus. Western does things slightly old-school, in that even for home games, the team rents a hotel and everyone comes in on a chartered bus, supposedly to get everyone's mind in the right place. I've already been working for ninety minutes, setting up the sidelines. Towels, tape, ice packs, and of course, the emergency kit, although if there is anything too serious, the ambulance crew from University Hospital takes over.
"Hey, PAT," one of the players, Vonnie James, greets me as he gets off the bus. "Hope you’re ready."
"Pat?" I ask myself, trying to figure out why he'd call me that. I mean, he doesn't know me that well.
“What’s up, PAT?" another player greets me, and his buddies chuckle. I'm flustered, and I start to feel embarrassed when I see Jason Simmons, the head intern, come by.
"Hey, Jason?"
Jason's a nice guy, and for a while as a freshman, I had a bit of a crush on him. He's engaged to be married after he graduates next May, and my crush faded last year anyway. "Yo, what's up, Car?”
Calling me 'Car' instead of Carrie is one of the ways my crush on Jason faded away. It’s stupid and I hate it, but ah well. "Hey, about three or four of the guys have called me Pat. What the hell’s that about?”
Jason grimaces. "They're not calling you Pat, but PAT, as in Point After Touchdown," Jason says as he forces out his words. "It's gone around the team. They know Duncan's been gunning for you. They call every girl he's got his eyes on PAT."