Lauren doesn’t have to go, and yet she is, because she thinks that’s what she’s supposed to do.

I’m so angry, I can hardly see straight as I drive.

I can’t make Lauren do the right thing. I can’t make her stay. But I can do the right thing for myself. It’s so obvious now, what I’m supposed to believe in when this game tonight is over.

I’m supposed to believe in myself.

That’s why Coach put that ahead of the team and the season. When everything else is over and done with, I still have myself. I still have to believe in me. And believe that what I want for my life matters.

I call my dad and put it on speaker.

“Colby! Good, I’m so glad you called before you left. I know you must be nervous, but it’s going to be —”

“Dad,” I interrupt him. “Listen. I’m calling to tell you something. I know you’re not going to like it, but I need to get this off my chest. This will be my last game. After tonight, it’s over. I’m done.”

“What do you mean you’re done?”

“I mean, I’m done with football. I don’t want to play next year. I want to go to Whitman College in Washington, and I want to study civil engineering. I’ve read up on Whitman, Dad, and it’s a good school. Not too far from home, either.”

“Son, look, let’s not talk about this now. Your emotions are running high because of this game, and that’s understandable. It’s okay. Relax. Don’t worry about college right now. We have a lot of time to decide.”

“No, Dad. I’ve decided. Me. Because it’s my decision. Please, you have to understand, I don’t want to play anymore. I love my team, and yeah, I love what I’ve learned being a part of that team. But I’m ready to move on. And I need you to be okay with that. Please? Please, tell me you’re okay with that. Because I can’t stand the thought of disappointing you.” Tears stream down my face. “Please, Dad.”

“How are you going to pay for it if you don’t have a football scholarship?”

“I don’t know right this minute, but I know people do it all the time. I’ll figure it out.”

“You make it sound so easy, Colby. Private colleges are expensive. And besides all of that, you have talent, son. Real talent. Do you know how many kids would kill to have what you have? I’m just not sure you’re thinking clearly on this.”

I pull into the school parking lot and park my truck. Players are streaming out of the school, ready to go have the time of their lives. And then there’s the line of cheerleaders, Meghan and all the rest, standing by the bus. I’m sure they’ve planned some kind of send-off that we’ll never forget. We’re stars after all.

But I’m so tired of being a star in a jersey.

I just want to be me.

“Colby? You still there? Look, let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay? You have a game to play. Concentrate on that.”

I’ve probably done all I can do for now. I realize this isn’t a fight that I can win with just one phone call.

“Yeah. You’re right. We’ll talk tomorrow. But I need you to know, I’ve thought about it a long time. I just . . . I didn’t want to disappoint you, that’s why it’s been so hard for me to tell you until now.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. I’m about to say good-bye, when he says, “So what’s the deal with the civil engineering? You hoping to design bridges or something?”

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I want to do.”

“You know, your gram loves bridges.”

“I know she does.”

“She’s so proud of you,” he says. “She told me just last night how proud she is of the man you’ve become.”

“I’m glad you guys will all be there tonight.”

He pauses again, like he’s trying to find the right words. “And look, I want you to know, I’m proud of you too. Whatever happens, that will never change.”

I exhale as I lean down and rest my forehead on the steering wheel.

“Thanks,” I tell him.

“Have fun tonight,” he says. “Take it all in. It’s a night you’ll never forget.”

I think of what’s just happened with Lauren. I think about seeing Benny. And most of all, about being on that field one last time with my friends, my teammates.

And I know, for once, my dad is exactly right.

Before the game, Coach gathers us in the locker room. If he’s nervous, he doesn’t show it. His voice is calm. Reassuring. I suddenly realize how much I’m going to miss that voice. His talks. The incredible leadership he’s provided.

I sure am going to miss him.

“Tonight is your night, gentlemen,” Coach says.

“You have worked hard to be here.

“You have endured physical and emotional pain, beyond any you could have imagined, and proved you are the best of the best.

“You’ve made it. You’re here. And I know you’re going to go out there and play harder than you’ve ever played before. So all I want to say right now, to each and every one of you, is enjoy it. Look up at those people, cheering for you, and take it in. Feel their love for you and this team and our small town, and play with full, proud, happy hearts.

“I believe in you.

“They believe in you.

“But what got you here is the belief in yourself. You never gave up. And that right there is the true sign of a winner, regardless of what happens out there tonight.”

He smiles and turns around. Waves at someone. And from the door that leads outside to the field, in walks Benny.

As soon as we see him, we yell like the place is on fire. He’s got a helmet on his head. Not a football helmet, but a special protective helmet. He comes in slowly, all by himself, a grin as wide as the Willamette River on his face.

Soon, we’re yelling his name. “Benny, Benny, Benny.”

Coach lets it go on for a minute, then motions with his hands for us to quiet down, so we do. And then he turns to Benny and says, “You have something to say to us, don’t you, Lewis?”

He looks at us, holds his fists up in the air, and yells, “I believe!”

It is loud and strong and true.

“I believe!” we yell back.

And in that moment, through all the mixed emotions I have about everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours, I do believe.