Forty-Eight: JaredThe air was cold on my face. I never noticed how cold it was on practice nights because I was usually in the middle of it. I'd lived for nights like tonight. The stands were quiet, the smell of the grass lit up the air, and the scoreboard was dim. Nights like this were just for playing football, and I'd loved it.
Sometimes I stood up from my folding chair and leaned on my crutches while I convinced myself this was important, that I'd want to come back to it eventually and needed to stay part of the team. Screw the team. That was all that went through my mind while I leaned there and watched the second string quarterback throw the ball out of bounds.
Some very loud clapping shook me from wherever I was, and I looked to my left. Bobby let out a whoop at the start of the n
