To Hawaii

#. April 12, 2021

#-1. Athens, Georgia, USA

#-2. University of Georgia

#-3. Butts-Mehre Heritage Hall

Roughly five weeks had passed since the first Mat Drill, and by now we had more or less recovered from the shock of losing our No. 1 receiver, George Pickens, for the season. We were now in the week leading up to the spring game.

Better known as G-Day.

Last year, the COVID outbreak in March had wiped out every college football spring game across the country, but this year the schedules had been announced early and everything was proceeding normally. Stadium capacity had even been bumped up about five percent, meaning twenty thousand fans would fill Sanford Stadium for this G-Day.

It felt like normal life was inching back within reach. And honestly? That was something to be glad about.

"Alright, everyone, eyes up!!"

"···"

"Time to introduce the freshmen!"

Coach Dan Lanning stepped forward and boomed across the room, and those of us already seated made ourselves comfortable, watching the green, fidgeting freshmen with narrowed eyes. If they were the prey, we were the predators.

Under normal circumstances, that would have been my spot last ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠year—but as I said, COVID hit in March and G-Day never happened. Strictly speaking, this was my first G-Day too.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"As you all know, we brought in twenty-four freshmen this year! And three of them are transfers! Now—back of the line! You're up first!"

As for this year's recruiting class? I'd call it decent. The headline name was quarterback Quinn Ewers out of Southlake Carroll, Texas, who—along with the second-biggest fish, J.T. Tuimoloau—ended up at Ohio State. Counting those two, there were thirty-three 5-Star prospects in the country this year, with 214 at the 4-Star level. For reference, last year I was the lone 6-Star, with 32 five-stars and 231 four-stars.

Still, the scouts and coaches actually on the ground would tell you that if last year's class was a 95, this year's was an 89 to 92. In any case, within this recruiting landscape, Georgia came in at No. 3 nationally. Alabama took the top spot with seven 5-Stars and fourteen 4-Stars, and Ohio State was second, as I mentioned. We, for the record, brought in five 5-Stars, twelve 4-Stars, and three 3-Stars.

Once all the introductions were over, we welcomed the freshmen in the locker room.

"How you feeling?"

"Phew—kind of nervous, honestly."

"That's normal."

With Stetson and Carson gone, the team needed a backup quarterback, and Brock Vandergriff was slotted into that spot. Looking at the schedule, he'd get at least four appearances in the second half of games. If he couldn't keep pace at the college level, a walk-on might have to take the field—which would be its own kind of disaster—so all we could do was hope the kid kept up. Coach had asked me to bring him along properly, so I planned to keep him at my side for a year. As for G-Day, Stetson was set to start at quarterback for the Black team and greet the fans after the final whistle.

Day one of practice with the freshmen began with light running. "Light" being the operative word. Running in football is a different animal from any other sport. You start with easy laps up and down the field, but partway through it shifts into circuit-style work. You roll across the turf. You sprint in a dozen different patterns. Before you know it, you're drenched in sweat.

Beep—!

"Good! Five minutes, then break off by position!"

"Hoo—"

"Haha. Tired already?"

The difference from high school was a different universe entirely, and there was only one answer I could give.

"Welcome to college."

After giving Vandergriff's slumped back a light pat, I led the other quarterbacks nearby over to one side. This was where the QB drills would happen.

"If you don't want to embarrass yourself in front of the freshmen, you'd better keep your head in the game! Got it?!"

Fifteen minutes of running, followed by fifteen minutes of quarterback drills. College practices ran fast and tight—one moment of spacing out and you made a mistake.

Just like now.

"God's sake, Brock! What the hell are you doing?!"

The moment Coach Monken shouted the name Brock, the wrong Brock flinched—Bowers the tight end snapped to attention. Amusing. That settled it, though. We needed to sort out the nicknames.

"What was your nickname back ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠home?"

"Levi's."

"What? Why?"

"Because I wore Levi's jeans every single day."

"···You want to keep being called that in college?"

"Not really."

"Then buy some new pants. We'll talk after."

"Okay."

After another lap through the drills, I took my place beside Vandergriff again.

"How about Van? Or Griff?"

"Those are all right?"

"Van makes me think of an SUV. I'd rather tie it to how you deliver the ball safely—and Griff, well, you know, like the griffin. You'll be flying the ball all over the field."

"Hmm—Van's better than Vander, isn't it?"

"Then it's settled."

Nickname decided, I had to let Coach Monken know so nobody got confused.

"Van?"

"Yes, Sir. He's the driver—he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ferries the receivers downfield with his arm. When you yelled 'Brock' earlier, the tight-end Brock jumped, remember?"

"Noted."

"Yes, Sir."

The drills rolled on. A little while later, the freshmen were called off to one side, and Coach Monken shouted over them.

"Wipe the sweat off and hydrate!"

"···"

"···"

"And focus up over there!"

The scrimmage-style event was split into two teams, but you still couldn't phone it in front of the fans. That was exactly why the freshmen were brought in on Monday—so they could train alongside us through Thursday and get ready. And to bring them up to speed as fast as possible, the upperclassmen ran demonstrations like this one. The next segment split us into offense and defense, each side broken into two units rotating rapidly to keep the snaps coming.

I stepped into the shot gun first. No play call needed—this was team practice after all. No tackling beyond light contact.

"Ready—! Hut!"

The instant the ball was snapped, the receivers moved on their own reads, the quarterback confirmed it, and the pass went out. The defensive linemen, linebackers, and safeties didn't tackle—they only attempted blocks or interceptions. My pass arrived precisely along the route Jordan was running.

"See that? That's how it's done!"

"Split into your teams!"

We used the rest between drills to confirm the team assignments, then broke into groups and trained for thirty-five minutes. In that stretch, Van proved he had a genuinely good arm—though his footwork inside the pocket and his reads under pressure left a little to be desired. Still, not bad.

Beep—!

"That's practice, everybody! Bring it in!"

After eighty-five minutes of work, we headed to the dining hall.

"First meal of college life."

"Is the food good?"

"Judge for yourself."

The dining hall the Georgia athletes used went by the nickname Bones. Call it the Dining Hall and you meant the place ordinary students could eat too; the athletes' hall was usually just called Bones. It prepared three meals a day for us, and as long as you showed up within the set windows, you ate well.

"You can make your own food over there, too."

"A lot of guys do that?"

"The picky ones, mostly. You?"

"I just eat whatever they give me."

"I like that about you."

I'd loaded up my plate and sat down at a table when two guys swooped in and claimed the two empty seats beside me.

Brock Bowers. Adonai Mitchell. Both freshmen.

"Damn—! Kissing up already?"

Zamir walked past, shaking his head, and I fell into easy conversation with the newcomers. Truth be told, I'd already met two of them when they signed their letters of intent. Only Adonai Mitchell was new to me today.

"Call me AD."

"Isn't that Anthony Davis's nickname?"

"It is—but I like it anyway."

"You got it. AD. Good nickname."

"And your name is straight-up killer. Moi. That means king, right?"

"Yep. My dad named me."

Honestly, up until today—between George's injury and players transferring out one by one as their destinations got set—I hadn't felt much like this team was truly being built. But now I felt a flicker of anticipation. These were mostly guys who'd excelled in high school. Every one of them had real ability.

When they fully dissolved into this team—what would we become? Sure, some of them might end up disappointing someone. But that's football; it comes with the territory. What mattered, in the end, came down to one thing. Who survived. Only that. Nothing else.

#. May 11, 2021

#-1. Athens, Georgia, USA

#-2. University of Georgia

#-3. Rankin M. Smith Center

"Done!"

"Done?"

"Yes, Sir. All finished."

"Now that's a surprise. Hand it over, would you?"

The spring semester finals that had begun last Wednesday came to an end today. The instructor took the paper I handed in, skimmed it slowly, gave a small nod, and told me I was free to go—so I grabbed my bag and slipped out into the hallway in a hurry. Friends were taking their exams in the rooms lining the corridor on either side; I raised both hands high in a peace sign as I walked past.

And the air I gulped down the moment I stepped outside was, truly—

"I'm dooooone—!!"

Dancing my way down the stairs, I bolted straight for the dorm. I tossed a quick hello at James at the entrance, rode the elevator up, and pressed the button for the sixth floor.

Ding—

The reason I was this wired? I was going home to Hawaii. Exactly one year since I'd come to Athens last May—how could I possibly hide the joy of going back to my hometown? I hadn't set a return date yet, but as long as I could find somewhere to train, I planned to stay in Hawaii all the way through the last week of July. Team summer camp started August 2nd, after all. And the new semester began August 18th.

"I'm going to Hawaii~♪"

The whole time I stuffed the clothes I'd pulled from the closet into my suitcase, I was so giddy I sang nonsense and wiggled my hips without a shred of shame. Mom's restaurant. Surfing at Paia Beach. An outing with Aunt Mel. Spending a few days at Grandma's house, and stopping by Kahuku High to see everyone—I couldn't contain how much I was looking forward to all of it.

"Ha.wa.ii. Here. I. Come! HA!!"

"You're THAT excited?"

"!!"

Startled by the voice behind me, I flinched and whipped around with startling agility. An instinctive defensive stance came free of charge.

"You're adorable, you know that?"

"Hannah? I thought you went back."

"I did. I was going to···"

The girl in front of me was wearing an utterly bewitching expression.

Ah. Right—her. Hannah Palmer. A bikini model and influencer attending the University of Arizona, and the girl I'd been seeing lately. Things with Alexis had ended after that single day. That was the plan for both of us anyway.

Hannah's finals had wrapped up first, so she'd arrived in Georgia last night and come straight to my dorm to spend the night. I figured this time would go the same way—casual, then goodbye. Apparently not.

"It felt like a shame to leave just like that."

"···"

Hannah untied the robe she was wearing, and at the sight of that breathtaking bare figure I was already pulling my shirt over my head, closing the distance, kissing her, lifting her up in my arms, and carrying her into the bedroom.

After a thoroughly satisfying round, we lay side by side, staring at the ceiling.

"Can I come to Hawaii with you?"

"You serious?"

"With my friends. That'd be fine, right?"

"Works for me."

I still didn't know exactly who she was as a person. But so far? I liked her. On the outside, there wasn't a flaw to point at—and she had the brains to match.

"I thought you'd tell me not to come."

"Why?"

"Well—you've got a lot of women, don't you?"

"···I won't deny it. But right now, the only person I'm doing this with is you. You might not believe that. But it's true."

Before long, Hannah was packing to leave. I offered to see her out; she said a taxi would do. Without a word, I picked up her suitcase and headed for the door. She came over and hooked her arm through mine. That was an unmistakable signal—a desire to take things a step further. For now I walked her down to the parking lot, loaded her bag into the trunk, and then opened the passenger door for her.

"Get in."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

Thud.

Offering to drive her to the airport. Opening her door myself. To me, these were gestures of affection—but I knew women always wanted more. So I held out my phone.

"Hm? What's this?"

"Punch in your number."

Hannah stared at me for a long moment, then smiled and typed in her digits. I saved the contact and dialed it right away.

"Did it ring?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Then let's head out. Seatbelt on."

Was this the beginning of a relationship? Hmm. I wouldn't say that far. But it felt like enough feeling had built up that we could meet in Hawaii, spend time together, and figure out who we each were—and whether she fit me.

The whole drive to the airport, our hands stayed tightly clasped.

#. May 12, 2021

#-1. Over the Pacific Ocean

I came this close to missing my flight. I'd been so absorbed in buying gifts. No—wait. The T-shirts really were cute. I bought all of them for Kala. She's shooting up so fast they'd hardly fit her for long anyway. Still, there was no resisting these.

"Sir?"

"?"

"Shall I bring you a blanket?"

"Oh. Yes, thank you."

The flight attendant left with a kind smile, and I turned my head to gaze out the window. I was sitting in first class on an American Airlines flight bound for Hawaii. A gift from my agency.

I couldn't spend my time in Hawaii just resting. There was something I'd promised the folks in Kahuku, and plenty more on my list besides. First, when I went to see my grandmother, I planned to meet the governor in Honolulu and deliver a donation to help with disease control across the state. Beyond that, I intended to hand over roughly five hundred thousand dollars for facility improvements at Kahuku High, and do what I could for the flooding that hit Oahu two months back.

None of this was possible on my own, so the agency had agreed to help. The money would come from what I earned shooting the Head & Shoulders ad, plus my share of uniform sales from January through March that Nike had deposited.

Why go this far? Because it's my hometown, that's why. In Hawaii—reborn and living this second life—I healed every scar from the cold, barren memories of my past one. And above all, it's the land my family loves. The place the Stone family will belong forever. Giving of yourself for the things you love? That's simply what you're supposed to do. So that when the grief of losing them comes, you won't be left with regret—

Huh?

"Hm?"

Nothing sad had happened. And yet, somehow, tears were falling.

Huh? What's wrong with me?

It felt like a chunk had been carved clean out of my chest—hollow and aching—and the area around my heart throbbed, dull and persistent.

"Sir?"

"Yes. Over here, please."

"Let me know if you need anything else."

Afraid the stewardess might see, I bowed my head and reached out a hand for the blanket, then immediately pulled it over my head and leaned back into the seat.

Whirr—

All I could hear was the drone of the engines. For a long while, the tears would not stop. Why?