Chapter Text
Pep assemblies were never Jordan’s thing. Jon was in his element, but Jordan usually spent them tucked away in a corner, buried in headphones and a notebook and steadfastly ignoring the manufactured rah-rah of it all. So being down on the gymnasium floor with a town’s worth of students and parents in the bleachers … it was new.
And having all the rah-rah directed at him was just weird. And yet, here they were. The crowd was buzzing with energy. Coach had long since abandoned his podium, opting instead to pace the gym like a caged animal, stopping at half-court, knees bent and hunched over as he yelled himself hoarse into a microphone.
“8 TACKLES! 3 SACKS! AND A BEAUTY OF A BLOCK TO CARRY US ALL THE WAY TO THE STATE CHAMPIONSHIP, MR! JORDAN!! KE-ENT!!!”
Jordan stepped up to the podium as Coach stuck the microphone back in its holder. He’d been warned about this moment.
"It’s no big deal Kent. Just get up there and say we’re gonna kick butt and not bother taking names. And if you get stuck, just thank god, country and your momma’s apple pie.”
“Thanks, Coach,” Jordan said, but half the words were lost in the squeal of the microphone. He’d never seen an entire gym full of people wince before. And maybe that was what started it. It could have been that, or it could have been something brewing in him since the week before, when he’d unleashed a vertical jump that deflected a soaring kick with his fingertips, sealing their fate as Class 4A substate champions, 14-13.
But how it started, didn’t really matter. What mattered was that after an entire season of feeling good — of being mostly happy — that old feeling was back. The one that started deep in his chest, wrapping around his lungs, gripping his heart and radiating up to his brain, stealing his focus and his confidence as it planted its own seeds of fear and doubt.
Jordan did his best to push it down and keep going, eyes scanning the crowd for Sarah and his mom — and there was his dad, hurrying in from some emergency or another and taking a seat in the bleachers, too late to join the team on the floor. He locked eyes with Jordan and gave a smile and a little wave with a thumbs up, and for a second, it was enough.
“Uh…we played a good game last week but, um, it…” his game-saving block replayed in his head. It was a great play, but it probably shouldn’t have been possible? How long would it be before someone realized it wasn’t possible? Before they put the pieces together and realized he was just a giant fraud? “But it wasn’t…it wasn’t just me out there…”
Jordan swallowed and looked around the gym. The faces that had been staring at him with rapt attention were wandering. Either losing interest in him or taking entirely too much interest in his quick spiral with laughter in their eyes. Sarah and her parents looked embarrassed for him. His mom looked sad, and dad…he was watching Jordan, head tilted ever so slightly in concern. He could probably hear Jordan’s heart racing. His shallow breaths. He could probably see the strain as he gripped the podium so tightly his knuckles turned white. Everything was awf-
“What my brother’s trying to say,” Jon yelled as he stepped to the podium and freed the microphone from its clip, “is that we’re all gonna go to Great Bend tomorrow, TEAR IT UP, and bring home a state trophy - GO CROWS!”
The gymnasium roared to life. The crowd, the players, the cheerleaders, they were all on their feet, and with the attention off him, Jordan stepped back from the podium, sheltered out of sight behind half the O-line.
But even then, it wasn’t enough to calm his nerves.
“Hey, you okay?” Jon whispered as he ducked behind the rest of the team, one hand on Jordan’s shoulder.
“I need to get out of here.”
Jon nodded and steered him toward the door. Nobody else seemed to notice in the barely controlled chaos.
“Don’t freak out,” Jonathan whispered as they neared the door.
“It’s a little fucking late for-”
“Just meet us at home.”
Jordan glanced at Jon, then followed his gaze up to the bleachers, where their parents stood. Mom was holding Dad’s sleeve. His hands were clenched at his sides, like all he wanted to do was fly down there and scoop him up and away. But instead he nodded as Jon pulled Jordan through the gym doors and into the hallway.
Jordan had done the math — it actually helped bring his world back in focus for a bit. Going at normal-people pace, not worried parents or superhero paces, it’d take at least 10 minutes for their mom and dad to push through the pep assembly crowd and get to the truck. Another 5 to get out of the maze-like parking lot that god forgot.
By that time, they’d be on the county road, walking in the dirt alongside a corn field, far enough away from everyone that he could calm down.
And so far, his math had checked out, bolstered by Jon insisting they jog for part of the way. And yet, even out here, in one of the widest, most open spaces he’d ever seen, Jordan still felt like the world was closing in on him. He stopped so abruptly that he almost fell forward, and might have ended up flat on his face if it weren’t for Jonathan’s hand on his shoulder. God he was such an idiot. Couldn’t even walk right without Big Brother holding his hand, never mind the difference between them was barely 3 minutes.
“Whoa, hey, you okay?
“Do I look okay?!” Jordan snarled. His insides felt like popcorn exploding bit by bit.
“Okay, okay, what can I do?”
“You can’t do anything because you aren’t even anything!” Jordan didn’t know where it had come from. The words were out of his mouth before he could process them, let alone stop them, and Jonathan stepped back like they’d stung him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry; I don’t know why I said that. I didn’t mean it.” His legs felt like jelly, and it wasn’t long before they gave out, sending him slowly to the ground while all his words, thoughts and feelings roiled.
The look in Jonathan’s eyes shifted from hurt to worry, and soon he was crouched on the ground next to Jordan, hand back on his shoulder.
“I don’t know how what to do,” he said softly.
Jordan shook his head. What could Jon do? What could anyone do?
"I’m not supposed to still be like this!” Jordan cried. The words burst out of him like an air horn, contrasting starkly to the meek ones that came next. “Not now.” The grip on his jersey tightened and Jordan found himself tugged forward until his forehead rested on Jonathan’s shoulder.
He felt a moment’s calm before the truck rolled up beside them, its squeaky brakes piercing all the way to his brain. The passenger door opened with a creak.
“Jordan? Honey, are you okay?” their mom said as she slammed the door and made her way to them. She wasn’t even to them yet, but he could already feel her pulling him into a hug like she used to do, leaving just the sound of her heartbeat in his ears.
The thought of it was infuriating. He didn’t want to need her; he hated that he did, and those feelings carried him to his feet.
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” he said as she approached, but it wasn’t enough to stop her reaching for him.
“Sweetheart, you don’t-”
“I said I’m fine!” Jordan swatted her hand away from him and stepped back.
“Hey, Jordan,” their dad said. “It’s okay. When I was first coming into my p-”
“God, Dad, this isn’t a You thing! NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU!” Why wouldn’t they just leave him alone? Jordan took two steps back, turned, and the world disappeared around him.