The first period of classes had come to an end. It was lunchtime. Andrew left the classroom at a brisk pace; he had been holding back the urge to go to the bathroom since third period.
The hallways were starting to fill with students. Some greeted him as they passed, offering encouragement or a pat on the shoulder as if they'd been lifelong friends. Andrew replied with slight nods, already used to that daily routine.
In general, the students at Mater Dei were respectful, though sometimes a few confused friendliness with excessive familiarity. They would get too close, convinced that because of his reputation for accepting photos or autographs, he was always available.
Andrew knew how to handle those situations: he wasn't aggressive, but with a neutral tone and his mere presence, he made it clear where his personal space ended. His height and demeanor did the rest.
Without slowing down, he turned toward the nearest restroom. He pushed the door open, stepped into the empty room, and went straight to one of the urinals. He settled in quietly, resting one hand against the cold tiled wall.
Halfway through, the door banged open again. Two students Andrew didn't know walked in, talking loudly. Both were startled when they saw him there.
'Here we go again…' Andrew thought with an inward grimace.
"No way, it's you!" one of them exclaimed, stepping too close, as if oblivious to the situation.
"Dude, tomorrow everyone's gonna be talking about the game when you crush them," added the other, just as effusively.
Andrew looked up slightly, his expression firm, his voice calm but cutting: "At least let me pee in peace."
Silence fell instantly. Both boys swallowed hard, intimidated by the seriousness in his gaze.
"S-sorry, yeah," one mumbled, taking a step back. The other nodded quickly, avoiding eye contact.
The rest passed in silence, broken only by the murmur of water through the pipes. When Andrew finished, he walked over to the sink. The two boys were standing by the mirrors, as if waiting for him.
As he lathered his hands, he glanced sideways at them and spoke in a more relaxed tone: "I appreciate the support. I hope you'll be at the game tonight."
After drying his hands, he gave each of them a friendly pat on the shoulder.
"Yes, we'll be there!" one said, his enthusiasm back.
His friend nodded with a smile.
Andrew smiled, nodded, and left the bathroom at an easy pace.
As soon as the door closed behind him, one of the boys let out a sigh and whispered, "For a second I thought he was gonna hit us…"
"Idiot, it's your fault. Why'd you go up to him all buddy-buddy while the guy's literally peeing?" his friend scolded, shaking his head.
Even he would've gotten defensive if, while he had his hand on his little soldier, a stranger came up smiling.
"I know… I don't know what I was thinking," the boy admitted, scratching his head in embarrassment. "Luckily he didn't take it the wrong way. He's a good person."
The other nodded. Anyone else would've just walked out without saying a word and glared at them, but fortunately that wasn't the case.
Andrew had already put the bathroom incident behind him. Now he was thinking about lunch: something not too light but not overly heavy either.
Luckily, Mater Dei's cafeteria offered options that fit his nutritional needs. They were pricier, yes, but money wasn't an issue for him; in fact, it was nice to have something to spend it on.
As he walked toward the cafeteria, he spotted a familiar figure a few meters ahead. A small back, loose hair, and an upright posture: Nancy.
His student mentor moved down the hall with a book open in her hands, so absorbed in reading she seemed to be walking on autopilot.
Nancy was in her senior year, with an SAT score above 2200, multiple academic achievements, and an impeccable reputation.
At first, her interactions with Andrew had been cordial, almost professional. He was still with Pippa then, and because of his trust issues, he had kept some distance. He didn't want any misunderstandings.
But now, weeks after the breakup, he felt more relaxed around her, less paranoid. They weren't close, but they were more familiar. And having someone like Nancy to guide him academically was support he knew he should make the most of if he wanted to maximize his grades.
Andrew quickened his pace a little and, when he caught up to her, lightly tapped her shoulder with a finger.
"Even during breaks?" Andrew said with a half-smile. "You don't stop studying, not even in the hallways."
Nancy looked up. Her expression was still serious, carrying that usual air of focus, but it softened just enough to show a friendly gesture.
"There's always something to review," she replied calmly, closing the book halfway.
Andrew raised a brow, amused. "You never take a break?"
Nancy looked at him steadily. "Do you with football?" she shot back.
"Fair point," Andrew said with a faint smile as he began walking alongside her.
"How was your day today?" Nancy asked.
'So professional,' Andrew thought, amused at how serious she sounded even in casual conversation.
"It didn't start too well. I was late for the first time…" he admitted.
A flicker of alarm appeared in Nancy's eyes, as if he'd just confessed to the worst crime imaginable.
"Hey, hey, it's the first time," Andrew said quickly, raising his hands before she could launch into a lecture.
"When the first one happens, the second follows," Nancy replied in a calm but firm tone. "And since you're the school's star, they probably didn't say anything to you, which makes it easier for you to repeat it."
Andrew let out a short, resigned laugh. "You're right, they didn't scold me. But it was the traffic. I don't live five minutes away."
"Leave five minutes earlier," she countered with implacable logic. "I live more than fifty minutes from school, and in over three years I've never been late."
Andrew knew Nancy was a scholarship student like him, though for academics, not sports. And it was more common for scholarship students to live far away.
His eyes widened in surprise. "That far?"
Nancy nodded.
"Do you have a car?" he asked.
"No. I always take public transportation."
Andrew stayed quiet for a few seconds, processing her answer. He complained sometimes, though not much, about his thirty-minute drive. And that was in his own car, no less.
But not everyone had that privilege at sixteen or seventeen. For Nancy, a scholarship student, the commute must have been long and far less comfortable.
"Well…" Nancy said with a faint smile softening her serious features, "I know you won't be late again. I don't need to give you a lecture that not even your teachers gave you."
She said it with certainty. After more than a month of observing and interacting with Andrew, she knew he wasn't the kind of guy who took advantage of his status. He didn't act like a star, unlike other athletes at Mater Dei she'd met over the years.
"Thanks for the trust," Andrew said with a smile. "I won't repeat such an infraction in the eyes of God."
Nancy let out a breath that sounded a lot like stifled laughter and shook her head slightly.
Andrew was teasing a little about God, since he knew Nancy wasn't Catholic. She had told him religion class had been hard to adjust to at first when she didn't have those customs at home, and she had even given him some tips.
There was a brief silence as they kept walking. Then Nancy asked, "Are you nervous about today's game?"
Andrew glanced at her sideways and smiled. "Do you get nervous before an exam?"
Nancy raised a brow, weighing the analogy. "Good comparison. And no, I'm never nervous for an exam."
"Same here, but with games, for now," Andrew replied.
It was true: before playing, he could feel anticipation, that energy in his stomach like a tingling buzz, even a bit of impatience, wishing the game would just start already.
But it wasn't anxiety, no trembling, no dark thoughts about everything that could go wrong. He didn't burn himself out imagining worst-case scenarios. It was just the natural tension of someone eager to compete.
In the same way, Nancy never felt nerves before exams. She had the confidence of someone who had prepared thoroughly and knew that once she sat down in front of the paper, she would respond with clarity.
Although, in Andrew's case, she wondered if that might change in the future. Maybe in a college stadium with eighty thousand people in the stands, or in the NFL, the nerves would truly arrive. For now, in high school, his confidence was too high: he dominated at this level, trusted his talent, and trusted his team.
Almost at the cafeteria, Andrew cast another glance at Nancy. Now that he knew she lived so far away, the idea formed naturally in his head.
"Hey… if you ever wanted to come see a game," he said calmly, "I could give you a ride home after."
Nancy raised an eyebrow, surprised by the offer.
Andrew lifted his hands right away, clarifying, "You don't have to say yes, it's not an obligation. I'm just saying the offer's there, for this game or any other."
Andrew knew Nancy didn't go to the stadium to watch games. It didn't bother him. In fact, not even one hundred percent of the students went to all of them, though most did.
Everyone had their own interests, and he respected that football didn't matter to her. He had always thought it was just her studious nature, but now he understood there was another factor.
Finishing a game at ten or eleven at night and then having to return alone on public transportation was inconvenient and even risky. Unless she had a very close friend willing to drive fifty minutes just to drop her off, which was unlikely, since her friends probably didn't care about football anyway.
"Thanks for the gesture," Nancy answered calmly, "but this weekend I need to study. I have an exam on Monday."
"That's fine," Andrew said, nodding as if it were nothing.
"But I'll watch on TV," Nancy added.
Andrew smiled. "An honor. Now I will be a little nervous…"
Nancy laughed softly, and they kept walking.
At the cafeteria entrance, Andrew stopped. He saw several of his football teammates already looking his way and waving for him to come over. A couple of cheerleaders, Madison among them, did the same. He knew well that kind of attention wasn't Nancy's favorite environment.
"I'll leave you here, don't want to bother you more," Andrew said with a slight tilt of his head.
Nancy nodded, impassive, as she watched his back moving away toward the group waiting for him with noisy energy.
"It doesn't bother me," Nancy murmured, before turning and heading toward her own table to meet some friends.
Time passed. After lunch, classes went on until around two-thirty, when they finally ended. Fifteen minutes later, Andrew was already gathered with all his teammates and the coaching staff.
The atmosphere carried a different tone. You could sense a nervous tension among some players.
They were elite athletes, used to pressure, but this game would decide whether everything they had done in league play would be remembered as historic, or fade away.
The playoff spot was already secured, yes, but no one wanted to let the title slip away. They had to finish with a flourish, to make sure every one of those victories resonated as part of a memorable campaign.
The staff, with Bruce at the helm and Rick coordinating the offense, kept their usual professional calm. They carried too much experience on their backs to let nerves spread.
For nearly an hour they went over plays, lineups, special teams, and the game plan for that night. Nothing physically demanding, just a light review.
Afterward came the team meal: the same food for everyone, designed to be light but sufficient. Another hour slipped by in that controlled environment.
From four-thirty to five-thirty, they had free time. They couldn't leave campus, but they could relax. Andrew used the time to answer messages from his family, which kept coming in on his phone.
Then he killed a little time on his cell, chatting with Nick, Victor, Thomas, and the others.
A little farther away, at another table, Rick leaned toward Bruce with a serious tone.
"How do you see him?" he asked quietly, referring to Andrew.
Bruce, arms crossed, was watching him from a distance, sitting back comfortably with his colleagues.
"Good. Same as always," he replied without hesitation.
Rick didn't seem quite as calm. "This is the first time I've had a quarterback with this kind of expectation on his shoulders. Not even Barkley carried this much. Now you've got national media, even ESPN, saying he's going to throw four or five touchdowns. With Barkley, in games at this level, projections were two or three at most."
Bruce nodded slowly, acknowledging the point. "I know. I've been coaching here for two decades, and I've never seen anything like it. It's the first time league games are being broadcast nationally, not just regionally. And one of them even broke viewership records."
Not even he, with twenty years of experience leading Mater Dei, had faced a situation like this. He was used to athletic pressure: titles, sectional finals, local expectations. But the media spotlight was something else entirely. Not Leinart, not Barkley, not any of the great quarterbacks who had come through the program had ever drawn this level of attention.
One million three hundred thousand viewers watching a high school game. A historic record, and this game could come close again, or even surpass it.
Rick sighed, tilting his head. What worried him most wasn't the talent, that was beyond doubt, but everything happening around it. The media machine was relentless, constantly inflating expectations. ESPN, national newspapers, blogs, fans online… everyone seemed to expect Andrew to repeat his feats week after week, as if it were routine.
Bruce, however, kept his usual serenity, the calm of someone who had seen generations of star players come and go.
"The important thing," Bruce added at last, "is that we keep our perspective. He doesn't need any more pressure. Out there he already has plenty. Here, we treat him like anyone else: execute the game plan, and the rest will fall into place."
Rick nodded. Both of them kept watching Andrew from afar. He laughed with his friends, playing with his phone between jokes, unaware of the adults' concerns.
The minutes passed slowly, and the short break was coming to an end. Kickoff was drawing closer and closer.
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