A Day to Remember
Friday Night Lights
No copyright infringement intended, just borrowing the characters.
Thank you to my awesome beta readers—Myrina, who volunteered to beta this for me even though she didn't even know me. Thank you so much! You totally rock! Also, thanks to moonbunny, who beta'd chapters eight, and nine, I believe. :-)
A special thank you to Monstermoof4me, who has been prodding me to finish and has always been available for a quick read through of new parts—even if it was only a paragraph or two.
And, finally, thanks to some of the FNL fans who took the time to give me some character feedback—Ran Cansley, graymalkin and rigginsgirl.
I take credit for all errors. :-)
"Cedric Benson finally got some touches yesterday." Eric Taylor polished off the last of his bagel then brushed the crumbs off his fingers.
"What, hon?" Tami Taylor glanced up from her 'To Do' list and took a sip from her giant mug of coffee. Bright sunlight streamed through the family room and kitchen from the patio sliders. In the glare of the light, she noticed several smudges on the glass and sighed; one more thing to add to her list.
Eric flipped the sports section closed. "You know…Benson. The Bears' running back?"
Tami shook her head, her eyes wide. "Sorry. The name doesn't ring a bell, sugar."
"You don't remember him? He went to UT a few years back." Eric stood and shoved the stool under the breakfast bar. He grabbed his Panther cap off the top of the fridge and glanced at his watch. "We better get going."
Tami nodded and dumped her coffee into the sink, watching with regret as the rich brown liquid swirled down the drain. Someday she would actually have time to finish the whole cup. Today was not the day, though. They would have to hurry if they were to get to school on time.
"Jules!"
Shaking her head, Tami turned to Eric. "Could you see what's keeping her? I need to get a few things."
"Sure, babe."
Taking a step in the direction of the hallway, Eric bellowed, "Julie!" His job done, he strolled to the front door.
"Oh, that was so helpful, Coach," Tami muttered with a roll of her eyes. She gathered up her daily planner and her cell phone. Darn, it was down to its last bar. But it was too late now. She threw it in her bag anyway and slung the bag over her shoulder. Turning, Tami caught a fleeting glimpse of long blond hair as Julie flew around the corner from the hallway and into the foyer.
"Come on, Mom! Dad! I have a study session before first period so I can't be late!" The front door slammed, rattling the windows.
Taking a last look around the kitchen, Tami made sure the coffee maker was off and shut a partially opened cabinet before following her family out the door.
Matt Saracen stuffed his chemistry notebook, his English homework and a couple of energy bars into his book bag.
"Grandma, I gotta work right after practice, but there's a Swanson dinner in the freezer, okay? It's your favorite kind—the one with chicken fingers." He surveyed the kitchen table as he spoke, sighing at the stack of bills piled at one end. He mentally added bill-paying to his list of chores for the day.
"And a brownie?"
Matt pushed his grandma's array of pills closer to her cereal bowl and smiled. "Yeah, it's the kind with the brownie. Don't forget to take your pills."
"I won't." Dutifully, she put her spoon down and swallowed her medicine. "There. Now, you go on." She shooed him out with a wave of her hands.
"Love you, Grandma."
Her face lit with a smile. "And remember what I told you about keeping your shoulder up when you throw the football."
Matt grinned. "I will. I will. I gotta go. Landry's here." He dropped a swift kiss on the top of her head then dashed out the door.
Yawning, Tim Riggins opened the fridge and stood staring at its contents, scratching absently at his belly for a few seconds before pulling out the remains of last night's dinner. He debated whether he should nuke it, but decided to eat it cold.
Finished, he got out the gallon of milk and, not bothering with a glass, just drank it straight from the jug. He swiped his hand over the back of his mouth and set the milk back in the fridge. Billy had already left for work, but Tim saw that his brother had left him a few bucks on the counter. Pocketing the bills, he found his book bag where he had left it by the front door, grabbed his truck keys and headed to school.
He hoped to get there early enough to get a chance to speak to Lyla. He normally saw her after first period football practice, but he had received a summons to meet with the guidance counselor today at the end of first period, so he knew he wouldn't be able to catch her then. He just had to see her. His stomach knotted up at the prospect of not getting at least a glimpse of her today.
"Lord, you've been eating like a horse lately! I'm gonna have to work some overtime just to keep you fed. Keep eating like that and working out, and you'll be as big as Terrell Owens." Mrs. Williams scooped another spoonful of scrambled eggs out of the frying pan and deposited them on her son's plate
She shook her head, feigning exasperation, but Brian "Smash" Williams could hear the pride in his momma's voice. He shrugged off the feeling of guilt that stole through him. He had to do what he had to do. His family depended on it. Everything would be fine.
He quickly swallowed one last bite of eggs. "I might be a little late after practice, Momma. I have that S.A.T. class."
Brian fingered the cash in his pocket. He was a little short, but he hoped that he-woman would let him slide this week and give him the full cocktail of steroids. He was getting his first paycheck at the end of the week then he would be able to make up the difference. Man, that first check was a long time coming. It seemed like he had been swirling ice cream cones forever already.
Alan Foster sighed, a sense of calm washing over him. Today was the day. He gathered the items he planned on taking to school and arranged them on his bed. Admiring the gleaming metal, he lightly traced a finger over the barrel of the nine-millimeter handgun. Extra clips nestled against the butt of the gun. The long blade of his hunting knife flashed as the bedroom curtain fluttered and sunlight danced across the mirror-like surface. He had spent an hour cleaning and sharpening the weapon last night.
He smiled as he remembered how excited he had been when his dad had given it to him for his thirteenth birthday. What a great birthday that had been! He had received the knife along with his first hunting rifle. The next day, his dad and his uncle had taken him hunting. It was the best day three days of his life. They had camped at night and hunted during the day. The air had been cool and crisp and the skies overcast, but that had been good because then the sun didn't get in his eyes when he'd had a buck in his sights.
"Alan! Hurry! You'll be late for school!"
He startled out of his reverie and grabbed a roll of duct tape off his desk, tearing off a strip. "I'll be right down, Mom!"
He quickly taped the knife to the outside of his right calf, pulling his pant leg down to cover it. Tearing off a longer strip, he stuck the gun in his right pocket, easing it through the seam he had ripped out earlier. He taped it to the outside of his thigh, liking the feel of the gun resting firmly above his knee. His baggy jeans concealed the outlines of the weapons. He stashed the extra clips in his left front pocket. They caused a slight sag to his pants, but he wasn't worried about that. If anyone asked, he could say it was his Ipod.
Not that anyone would ask.
"Hey y'all! That was a good, hard practice out there today." Eric slapped Smash on the shoulder pad, and lightly rapped on Matt's helmet as he strode into the locker room. "Be sure to drink some water before you head to class."
Coach walked towards his office, stopping for a few minutes to pull some old announcements off the bulletin board. A flyer for the pancake breakfast benefit that had been held for Jason Street caught his eye. A day didn't go by that Eric didn't miss the kid's enthusiasm for the game. His energy seemed to infuse practices with an infectious excitement. Coach slowly crumpled the flyer. Street had been a hell of a quarterback; he was still a hell of a young man. Already it was apparent that despite the crippling injury, Street had turned his energy towards creating a new life for himself. A life that didn't include football.
Eric's fist clenched, crushing the flyer into a tight, hard ball. He fired it into the nearest trashcan. Quickly, he snatched a few more outdated flyers off the board then tossed them into the garbage too. Glancing at his watch, he headed for his office. He paused to take his own advice by grabbing a quick swig of water from the drinking fountain.
"Hey, Coach?"
Straightening, Eric swiped the back of his hand across his mouth and turned towards the voice of his assistant coach. "Yeah, Mack?"
"We're all heading over to the cafeteria to get some breakfast. Are you coming?"
Eric shook his head. "No. I ate at home, but thanks for asking. Take your time, though. I have some things to look over before our meeting this morning."
Mack nodded and started to say something, but turned instead to a couple of players who were roughhousing. He pointed a finger towards the locker room doors. "Git on to class, Pudnick! If you have that much energy still, we can make the practices a whole lot harder, right, Coach?"
Eric grinned. "Absolutely. What do you say we add some more wind sprints, Mack?"
"No! No, that's okay, Coach! We're going, we're going!" Grabbing their book bags, they scrambled for the door.
Mack turned back to Eric, a wide smile creasing his face. "Gets them every time." Laughing, he followed the boys out the door with a couple of other coaches trailing after him.
Eric took a quick glance around the locker room, checking to be certain that there was no more horseplay going on. Only a few players remained. Matt Saracen straddled a bench while digging through his open book bag, and Smash stood beside his locker guzzling a bottle of water.
"Hurry up, guys. Second period starts in a few minutes."
"Uh, Mrs. Taylor? You wanted to see me?"
Tami looked up from the file she was perusing and smiled. "Hi, Tim. Come on in, and have a seat."
The young man shuffled in and plopped into the chair across from his guidance counselor. He fiddled with a cuticle on his thumb, his head down.
Tami folded her arms on the desk and studied Tim. Her heart had gone out to him when he and his brother had been over to dinner a few weeks ago; what a disaster that had been! It was sad how intensely he had defended his father against his older brother's disparaging comments about the man. She never ceased to be amazed at how forgiving children could be of their parents.
"So, how are you doing, Tim?"
Tim darted a look at her, his gaze shifting to the floor when their eyes met. He shrugged. "Okay, I guess."
You have a real shot of getting a football scholarship to some school, but it would help if your grades were a bit higher."
"Sure. Whatever." Tim fidgeted, his finger working at a tiny hole in the leg of his jeans. He lifted his head, a smirk on his face. "You really think I got a shot?"
His voice held disbelief but Tami thought she could detect a tiny bit of hope. She shrugged one shoulder. "It might be a small school, but the important thing is getting the chance to continue your edu--."
Screaming and commotion out in the hallway stopped Tami from what she was about to say. Cocking her head, she stood and stepped around the desk. "Would you excuse me for a minute?"
Tami opened the door to the hallway outside the guidance office. A half-dozen students ran past her, a look of panic on their faces. As though someone had thrown a switch, her heart began beating double-time. First period wouldn't end for a few more minutes, so the halls were mostly empty. She suddenly saw a boy she knew by name. "Michael!"
Michael veered towards her. His eyes were wide, and he kept looking back over his shoulder.
"What's going on?"
"I don't know, Mrs. Taylor. Someone said a kid had a gun."
"Come in here." Tami pulled him into the office area, shutting the door and locking it. "Do you know anything else?"
The boy shook his head. "Not really, ma'am. It sounded like someone said he was going towards the back hallway."
Her mouth went dry. The back hallway was the where the locker rooms were--where Eric was. She wracked her brain trying to think where Julie would be right now. English. That's right, she would be taking a test in English, and after that she had gym class. Gym!
Tami ran for her desk phone, ignoring Tim. She absently noted, though, that he had left her office and was now speaking to Michael. She dialed the principal's extension, after the third ring, her finger began tapping the desk. Pick up the damn phone! Her eyes shot to the clock. They had to announce a lockdown, and they had to do it now before the period ended allowing the students out into the halls.
After the tenth ring, a secretary finally answered. Tami quickly explained the crisis to the harried woman, who, in turn told Tami that they had also heard about it. As they were speaking, the principal's voice came over the PA system announcing the code for a lockdown.
Tami hung up and began to herd Tim and Michael into an interior office. She then beckoned a couple of other students who were also sitting in the waiting area, to move to the safer location.
As they headed towards a secretary's office without any windows, Tim hung back.
"Go on, Tim." Tami pushed him gently from behind.
He turned to her, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Taylor, but I can't. I gotta go."
Before she could stop him, he shook off her restraining hand and bolted out the office door. Tami stood, torn between seeing to the safety of the students still in her care and following Tim. She wanted desperately to dash out the door herself and find her family, but her sense of duty won out. She re-locked the door behind Tim and said a silent prayer that the whole thing was a false alarm.