Date: September 22, 1989.
Location: The Cooper Living Room / The Practice Field.
Event: Highland Park Week Begins.
In Texas high school football, there are rivalries based on geography (who lives closer), and there are rivalries based on hate.
Medford vs. Highland Park was based on something simpler: Money.
Highland Park wasn't just a school. It was a kingdom. They had a paved parking lot for the students. Their band had matching uniforms that didn't smell like mothballs. Their booster club didn't sell cookies; they sold mutual funds.
And this year, they were coming to our house.
"I hate them," Meemaw announced, slamming a deck of cards onto the coffee table. "I hate their hair. I hate their cars. And I especially hate their defensive coordinator, that smug bastard Clint."
"Language, Mom," Mary sighed from the kitchen.
"I'm speaking the truth, Mary," Meemaw said, lighting a cigarette. "Highland Park thinks they can buy a district title. They just recruited a linebacker from Houston. Moved his whole family into a condo. It's disgusting."
I was sitting on the floor, stretching my hamstrings. Missy was lying on her stomach next to me, aggressively circling items in the JCPenney Christmas catalogue with a red marker.
"I heard the new girl at Highland Park has a butler," Missy said, not looking up.
I paused my stretch. "A butler?"
"Yeah," Missy said, circling a Barbie Dream House. "Heather B. said her cousin goes there. Said a limo dropped this girl off. A limo! Can you imagine? I'd make him carry my backpack."
"It's probably just a rumor, Missy," Mary called out. "Nobody takes a limousine to school."
"She does," Missy insisted. "They say she's from New York. And that she's really mean. Like, 'Dynasty' mean."
Sheldon walked in, holding a calculator.
"Statistically, the accumulation of wealth correlates with a decrease in empathy," Sheldon noted. "It is the 'Affluenza' effect. The new student is likely sociopathic."
"See?" Missy pointed her marker at me. "Sheldon agrees. She's a villain."
I didn't say anything. I just stared at the TV.
New York.
My 40-year-old brain rattled through the possibilities. I knew the Young Sheldon timeline like the back of my hand. There was no "New York Heiress" in the original show.
This was something new. A ripple effect? Or something else entirely?
"Georgie," Meemaw snapped, kicking my foot. "Focus. I'm putting fifty bucks on us to cover the spread. Don't let me down."
"What's the spread?" I asked.
"Highland Park by 14," Meemaw growled. "Disrespectful."
***
The Practice Field
The tension at practice was different this week. Usually, George Sr. was loud. This week, he was quiet.
Quiet George was scary.
"Listen up!" George yelled, his voice echoing off the metal bleachers. "Highland Park is coming here on Friday. They are undefeated. They have a weight room that costs more than my house. They have scouts from Texas A&M coming to watch them."
He walked down the line of players.
"They think you are trash," George said. "They think you are slow, small-town hicks who are going to roll over so they can get back to their country club."
He stopped in front of me.
"Are we trash, Cooper?"
"No, Coach."
"Then show me!" George roared. "First team offense! Let's go! I want tempo! I want violence!"
We ran the offense. I was sharper than usual. The "No Pass No Play" scare had woke me up. I felt focused.
My arm felt electric. Throw Power 70 was no joke. I was zipping slants into tight windows that Kyle Stevens couldn't even dream of hitting.
But my mind was distracted.
I kept looking at the visitor stands. They were empty now, but on Friday, they would be filled with fur coats and designer suits.
"Hut!"
I snapped the ball. Bullard (The Bully TE) ran a seam route. He was covered, but I saw the safety cheat over.
Mahomes Vision.
I looked left, freezing the safety, then whipped the ball back to the right. No-look pass.
Thwack.
The ball hit Bullard right in the numbers. He stumbled into the endzone.
The whistle blew.
"Show off," Kyle Stevens muttered from the sideline, but he was grinning.
George Sr. looked at me. He tried to hide it, but I saw the pride.
"Again!" George yelled. "Don't get cocky! Highland Park hits harder than air!"
***
The Rumor Mill
That night, I was in my room, looking at the ceiling.
The door creaked open.
Missy slipped in. She was clutching her Cabbage Patch Kid.
"You wanna know a secret?" she whispered.
"Not really."
"Heather B. called me back," Missy whispered, eyes wide. "She said the New York girl isn't just rich. She said she got kicked out of her last school."
I sat up. "For what?"
Missy shrugged. "Nobody knows. But they say she arrived in town a week ago, and she's already been seen arguing with the Principal."
She climbed onto the end of my bed.
"Do you think she's a criminal?" Missy asked, sounding delighted. "Like... a bank robber?"
"I think she's just a girl, Missy," I said. "Go to sleep."
Missy hopped off the bed. "Boring. I hope she's a bank robber. That would be cool."
She left.
I walked to the window. I looked out toward the highway that connected Medford to the richer suburbs.
A mystery girl from New York. Rich. Kicked out of school. Rebellious.
It didn't fit the script. I was supposed to know everything that happened in this world. I knew when Dad would have his heart attack. I knew when Sheldon would go to college.
But I didn't know this.
A storm was coming from the East. And it was driving a Porsche.
[New Quest: Defend the Home Turf]
* Objective: Defeat Highland Park.
* Bonus Objective: Cover the Spread (Make Meemaw Rich).
* The Mystery: Identify the New York Transfer.