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I'm pretty sure we set a state record for turnovers in the first quarter, and the second quarter was worse. When the gun signaled the end of the half there were nine interceptions. Mike had thrown three and Robbie one.I not only didn't have any interceptions charged against me, I led the game in passing yards. Twelve. That's for the half. It was obvious that the battle was going to be on the ground.But on the ground wasn't much better. Eighteen fumbles, nine for each side. It was like the battle for the Eastern front in World War Two. We gained a yard, we lost a yard.At least the sports writers were wrong. With a nothing to nothing score as we trudged toward the locker rooms, the Cougars weren't dominating anything.It was one of the quietest half-time locker rooms I'd ever been in. We weren't whipped, we were determined. We didn't need rah-rah. We just had to go back out and fight for every yard.Robbie motioned to me, and we found a private spot between rows of lockers. "Hold me,". He’s legally fucking free of their bullshit. They can’t do anything, they can’t say anything. She rang the doorbell and waited impatiently, tempted to immediately ring it again and again, or press it and hold it down until those doors opened and released Brian.“Can I help you.” When the door opened, Brian’s dad filled the doorway, looming impossibly large over her. It was immediately clear that her arrival had interrupted a heated argument going on within the house, because he already looked furious. A duffel bag, one of the ones she presumed contained Brian’s packed clothing, was clutched in a quashing grip in his enormous hand—he wasn’t holding it by the handles. With his broad, fat body and impressive height, six foot ten at the least, he seemed like an ogre brandishing an oblong rock.A flash of fear crept into the righteous anger she’d been building up, and she was able to look past the giant figure in the entranceway and saw Brian. He was tense, a drawstring bag tucked under one.
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