"You had the ball! I had to tackle you!"

The 'Dogs made room for Ginger to get to the ball, and when he had it, they began to form their wedge around him. But I was already downfield, slaloming between the big blockers. I hit Number Seventeen around the hips, putting my shoulder into his belly, using my momentum to bear him backward, falling on top of him. I dug at the ball, but he didn't let go.

He made a noise, like "Uff!" when I hit him, then a higher pitched "Ahhh!" as he fell, and another grunt when I landed on him. He was still making noises when the refs got there.

I made out words he screamed into my ear, "My ankle! You stepped on my ankle!"

I rolled off him, letting the refs take the ball and place it, as the Bulldog coach ran onto the field and knelt beside him.

"Ah, jeez," I muttered.

Ginger pointed at me, then at his foot, and the refs put their heads together. Coach Wilson was beside me. "Don't worry," Wilson assured me, "It was a clean tackle."

"He says I stepped on him," I told the coach. My eyes were burning. I honestly didn't know if I had.

He shook his head. "Couldn't have," he said. "You fell together." After a moment, he added, "Wouldn't matter if you had. It was a clean tackle. Shit happens."

I looked up at him. I was still in a crouch halfway through standing up. Coach avoided being vulgar around us players, but he didn't seem to realize what he had said.

Two 'Dogs were helping Ginger off the field. He was hopping on one leg, but he grinned at me. "Payback," he said, reminding me of what he'd said before when he called me a bitch.

I stood up, facing him. "You had the ball! I had to tackle you!" I hoped I didn't sound shrill, but I was mad at him for getting hurt, and I could feel tears in my eyes.

He nodded, still grinning, but his coach glared at me.

"You did good, Pete," Coach said as the refs took the ball and placed it near one of the hash marks on the field. "He's pretty much their best scorer, and you took him out of the game."

That didn't help. I kept my face down as I joined the other Lions for a huddle. "I didn't mean for him to get hurt," I muttered to myself. Several guys were giving me slaps on the shoulder, helmet or butt.

"Way to go," Dave said. "You took out their 'Pete'!"

I didn't feel good, but the home crowd loved it. "Leash them 'Dogs," the cheerleaders screamed.

My stomach hurt, and my eyes still burned. We were on defense, and I had to pay attention, but my mind was not in the game.

The 'Dogs came at us with blood in their eye, but they were a thinner team than the Lions and missing their speediest player hurt them. Ginger hadn't been just their running back. He was an effective pass receiver, too, something I wasn't good at.

I got my mind back on winning this game and slapped down a pass that would have given them a first down. They stalled out their drive about our 45, and I took their punt and ran it back to their 30, jinking around their defensemen.

It was a running game now, my game. I got us another first down, then scored from the 18 with Jake blocking for me. A quick conversion and the score stood at 16-9, and we led for the first time.

We didn't look back, final score 27-9. Jake came in again to kick our one field goal.

I kept thinking the 'Dogs might take revenge on me with a dirty tackle. But that didn't happen. The worst moment came in the last quarter when I faked, took a reverse handoff and ran for a 21-yard gain, but was forced out of bounds by the Dogs' replacement deep safety.

I thought we were going to trip one another, but both managed to keep our feet, ending up right in front of the 'Dog bench where Ginger grinned up at me, his right ankle wrapped and iced. "Payback," he mouthed at me.

But if karma was in the Bulls' dogma, they missed their chance. I walked off the field and into Megan's arms, still all in one piece. I didn't have time or energy to think about the other Number Seventeen right then. My girl and I almost seemed to strike sparks off each other.

There was a lot of shouting, and congratulations, whooping and hollering and fakey Lion's roars, and no one noticed Megan and me sneaking off to the parking lot, me still in my football uniform.

We'd come in separate vehicles as I had been planning to give the keys to the big truck back to Jake and had already done so before the game. Megan had come in my car, and we made our way toward it, along with a few dozen others finding their cars in the darkened lot. Megan, thinking ahead and getting here early, had parked under the light pole nearest the exit.

We'd come up with this plan because I didn't want to have to run another gauntlet to reach the coaches' showers, where I could change privately. I'd need another excuse for next week or another plan. The idea of not showing my hicks wouldn't work two weeks in a row, would it? Maybe if Megan gave me a new crop.

I must have been grinning when I glanced over at her as I steered the Mom-mobile over the speed bumps at the exit to the school parking lot.

Megan grinned back. "You're thinking about something dirty, aren't you?"

I laughed. "I'm thinking about the motel," I said.

"Mmm, hmm," she agreed." And what we're going to do there."

I felt my face turn red. Megan was much more relaxed about our relationship than I was. "You want something to eat?" I asked as we turned onto the highway leading to the town center and the fast food places there.

"Sounds like a straight line to me," she teased. "But yeah, let's get a bag of tacos from Rey's."

It sounded good to me, so I used the drive-through. At the window, the cashier asked, "Did we win tonight?"

I grinned at her. "We did," I said. "27 to 9."

"Sounds like a blowout," she commented, handing my change back.

"Don't believe that! The Dogs are tough!"

Megan leaned sideways to say, "Petey carried for three touchdowns!"

"You're Petey?" The woman asked.

"Uh, yeah," I admitted.

"Just a second," she said, leaving the window for a minute. She came back with a bag of our food. "I put in a couple of churros for our football hero," she said, grinning at me.

We both thanked her and got out of there. Megan was sniffing at the bag of goodies. It had embarrassed me a bit, but no one in their right mind turns down free churros. The Mexican-style cinnamon pastries were definitely a treat.

I drove on through town while Megan reached into the bag to pinch off bites of churro, alternately eating a bite herself and feeding one to me.

I headed toward the motel we had stayed in last Saturday. I knew more about what to expect this time, but I was still nervous.

"I got us a six-pack of sodas and some snacks for later, too," Megan said. Then she giggled, and I knew there was something more.

"What?" I asked, smiling over at her. We hit the tree line, and the temp outside must have dropped ten degrees. You could feel the cold radiating off the windows.

"I got something for you, well, for us," she said, giggling again. "Petey, Pete, Pete!"

"Well, what is it?" I asked. "You can be such a tease, Megan!"

"I thought it might be fun. For us, for both of us," she sounded like she was not quite sure of whatever was a good idea.

I frowned at the road. The motel was in Pine Creek, just a few miles after we reached the trees, when the road began to get a bit twisty. I hoped it wasn't full on a Friday night, but October wasn't high tourist season around here.

"It's a sex toy," Megan suddenly said. "My brother picked it up for me…at the shop, uh, as a joke…."

"A sex toy?" I sure hadn't expected that. Friendly had one sex shop in town, though the city had tried to keep it out. Books…and sex toys. They didn't display them in the windows, but I knew what they carried inside. "You mean like…like a dildo?"

"Yea-ahh," Megan admitted. She looked at me, turning a bit sideways.

I glanced at her and put my attention back on the road. A glimmer of neon ahead might be the motel. Megan looked apprehensive. "Pete, Pete, Petey?" she said softly.

I wasn't sure at all what I thought about her bringing a dildo to the motel.