Nine Years ago
I stare down at the football field of the local college that stretches out below us, just as the home team streams onto the pitch, cheers from the supporters lifting up around me until it’s a roar in my ears. I join in, waving a hand pennant with the college logo on it, trying to pretend to anyone watching, that I’m really a huge football fan and not just a football player fan.
I’m decked out in a team jersey, my cheeks painted with the number fourteen for my brother, the greatest running back that Littleford has ever seen.
‘There he is!’ Darcie screams suddenly from beside me, grabbing my arm in a vice grip as she points down at the sea of players who jog toward their coach, waving at the crowd. She’s dressed in a matching jersey, my brother’s number and name emblazoned
