Across the Field

"Keep scoring, Quarterback. It'll take a lot more than a touchdown to get with me."

You're the big man on campus, so you're told.

Football Captain with a religion behind you and the looks that could get you any girl in school. So you're told.

Any girl, that is, except her. Not Grace Bowman who protects herself with a virginal force field or Adrian Lee who shrinks away at the sound of church bells. If anything, this girl was the perfect mix of innocence and sensuality –at least enough to have fun with. She wasn't a bouncy blonde or a sinful brunette or even a typical redhead, but she has this long russet brown hair that trails down her back and you find out she's in Band. You've never dated a girl in Band before.

Oh yeah, and one more thing: she happened to lug around a baby bump her freshman year.

But that's not important right now. She just told you off in the hallway, in front of the entire school, and when the real issue came out, you fired back, and so did she. You hold your stinging red cheek and your gaze on her retreating backside, and your team's on the side, laughing their asses off because dude, you just let a chick from the Band own you in front of the entire school. And not just any chick from Band. That chick from Band with a kid.

But that's not what's important right now. What's important is looking for her and setting her straight because the truth of the matter is that you'll wait.

You'll definitely wait for her.

You don't really know a thing about Band music, at all. All you know is that the Band –that's bigger than the football team- comes out at every game and plays as if their lives depended on it. You know one thing for sure, they take it very seriously and they are one of the best in State so you get kinda prideful about them as well. You're not a part of the Band, but when you play, and then they play, you feel like a part of something bigger, so, there's that.

Their music is loud and booming, reaching the top and beyond of the bleachers and you suddenly feel pumped up.

Halftime's over, and when you get back on the field, something feels different, like the Band left something after the final note is played. The game gets close, real close, but you lose 36 to 37. It's a tough loss because it's one of the season opener games, but you're not fazed. You'll reach top four, and then who knows, maybe even the championship.

So you take the loss, head held high because you're team captain. Even if your team's heads are low and set on the ground, it's you who has to set the example. At least, that's what Coach tells you after every practice. You take your helmet off, wipe the sweat off your brow, and clap your leading running back on his shoulder; good game team. You loss, but it was a good one.

You head out of the locker room, letterman jacket slung over your shoulder, and as you head towards the double doors, you hear that familiar blaring horn again. It's strange, you know, 'cause the game's over, and yet there it is, loud and demanding. You take a detour and go down the long strip of hallway in the other direction, approaching the evanescent melody, until you're right there at the door and you hear shuffling inside, like someone's putting away their instrument, or something. You chuckle under your breath, maybe it's a bandgeek and you could give 'em a lighthearted scare, for kicks. Nothing too bad, just for fun.

So you bang on the door gruffly and rush into the instrument storage room, and you're shocked when you see big mahogany green eyes staring right back at you. Your mouth falls open, and you kinda feel like an ass. She was spooked, all right. Enough to drop her instrument case on the ground, and make a picture of her and her son slide across the floor at your feet. You bend over and pick it up and you stare at it for a long moment, John's gotten bigger since you've last seen him. His mother looks cute, too, all big smile and bright eyes, so your lips sorta curve upwards a bit.

"Excuse me?" You hear her say, and you look up and she's brushing her bangs back, eyes gesturing towards the picture in your hands. She still all dressed up in her official Lancers band uniform and you rake your hand through the back of your hair and chuckle sheepishly before handing it over. So, now you're a jerk and a creeper; greeeat.

"Uh, listen Amy, I'm sorry about that, I didn't mean to scare you." Or stare at your picture like a complete dope. "I was just-"

"You were just thinking that you could scare some bandgeek, right?" Amy asks rhetorically, eyebrow lifted indignantly and arms crossed, looking every bit of the mother she was. "Typical."

Whoa, back up. "Typical?"

"Yes. As in, what usually happens or something that's expected or-"

"No, I know what 'typical' means. What I don't understand is why you're saying that about me." You crane your head and her green eyes narrow ever so slightly. You didn't know how fiery she was before, she always had this stigma of just being a teenage mother. You did hear that she went off on Coach, but you never would've expected her to get like this; you kinda like it.

"Because you're just a-" She cuts herself up, stand up straight, and takes hold of her instrument case handle. She walks towards the door, but then snaps back at you, hair whipping over her shoulder. She smells sweet and you didn't realize how tall she was compared to you, she's nearly level. "Did you know that Michael Rykerson was hazed by the football players last night?"

You think back; you do recall something after practice yesterday. Oh, yeah, they were gonna haze this guy, asked if you wanted in. "Who is he?"

"He's a part of the brass section, one of our best tuba players, and he didn't come to school or to the game tonight. Did you know about it?" She asks again.

"I…I knew." You say, and her face turns into one of disgust as she tries to rush past you, but you hold her by her shoulder, "But I didn't know who was going to be hazed, I swear."

"You still knew that it was going to happen; I bet you even knew that it was going to be someone from Band. You're the football captain, you could've stopped it." She stares at you glaringly, for one last moment, before moving past you and out the door. You stand there a second longer, taking in the words she just said, before going after her retreating figure.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry that your friend got ambushed by the team, but I wasn't behind that and for the record, I didn't know it was someone from the Band." You say, walking beside her. "I actually like the Band." She scoffs and rolls her eyes at this admission. "No, seriously, I do."

She stops and you step in front of her, "Amy, I'm sorry." You say sincerely, and her eyes flicker to yours before sighing.

"Fine, just…keep your team in line and we'll call it even." Her eyes soften a bit, and yeah, you won her over.

"Sure, no problem," You sigh. "How's John, I haven't really seen him in a while."

Amy smiles, and it's not brilliantly huge like Grace's or peppy like Madison's or even seductive like Adrian's or Shawna's. It's like nothing in those categories; it's just real. You haven't experienced real in a while. "He's good, he's pretty much walking now."

"Yeah," You say knowingly. "He looks a lot like you."

She cranes her head to the side and does this –adorable? Sexy?- thing with her lips where she bites the side of her lower one before letting out a laugh, like she's trying to fight off a smile, only she's failing at it. You're almost wondering if there's some inside joke she's thinking of right now. "I, um…Everyone says he looks like a mix between me and Ricky; you're the first to say that he really looks like me, so, thanks."

You grin, "Well, it's true, Amy. At least, by the picture it is. Maybe- maybe I could see you with him, sometime. You know, just to make sure."

She holds her instrument case in front of her with both hands, eyes narrowed curiously, "Are you asking me out on a date with my son?"

"What? No, of course not…" You shake your head, feeling a bit foolish. "But uh, if I were to ask you out on a date, you know, I'd hope your son would be there because I know you're a package deal; I wouldn't just be dating you, I'd be involved with you and your son."

"And Ricky." Amy says with a slight smirk.

"Definitely not Ricky," You shake your head. "He's John father, and we're cool, he's a nice guy-" Amy scoffs at that, "But if we were to go out, not saying that we would or anything, but if we were, I know that your son's a big part of your life, I'd want him to be okay with it."

Amy chuckles, "He's a one-year-old, I'm sure he'd like you if you brought him a ball or something."

You nod, "Yeah, but…I get it. When my dad died, I got really protective of my mother and who she decided to date, and I didn't want to see just any guy come into her life, and I don't think I could do that to anyone else." You say, thinking about it a little more, of how you felt when your mother said that she met a guy from therapy, and that he was coming over to the house the next day; it was just a few months after your father died.

"That's…really sweet, Jack, but I think he would be okay with you, if we were to go out. And if we were to go out, it would be a while before I let you around John." Amy says slowly, but firmly.

You nod your head, "I can respect that, definitely. In fact, it should be like that." Amy smiles a bit wider after you say that, maybe not expecting you, or anyone else, to think the way she thinks.

"I'm not looking for a boyfriend right now," She says suddenly. You smile.

"Good."

"Why's that good?"

You grin again, "It leaves the playing field open." You turn around to walk away with your hands in your pockets and you're halfway down the hall when she yells that she's not a football game, Jack Pappas.

"I know, you're in the Band, right?" You yell back with a smirk and you see her shake her head with a smile before you exit through the double doors.

Yes, I wrote it, I actually wrote Slap Jack! And for those who don't know, Slap Jack is the made up fandom name for Jack and Amy, who haven't hooked up, yet –but it's inevitable, everyone hooks up on this show. I was inspired by You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift and All the Right Moves with Tom Cruise, who is a football player who falls for a girl in band, sounds familiar? And yes, I lovelovelove my crack pairings, so I had to do it.

Expect more soon! xD

DAC