She told me she worked in the morning and started to laugh.

New story. This one's sports-based too but with a bit of a sci-fi bent. If you'd be so kind to read it over and give me your thoughts, I'd really appreciate it.


“All right, fellas. This is it.” The quarterback announced as his teammates gathered together. His eyes scanned the huddle, remaining calm and clear even in this most dire of situations. “We’ve been working all of our lives for this moment. And now it’s ours for the taking. Let’s go win this game.”

“Yes sir.”

“Here we go!”

“No fear! NO FEAR!”

Very few of the words spoken reached the ears of the lanky wide receiver standing opposite the quarterback. His mind was filled with urgent, panicked thoughts, each doing their part to block out any outside stimulation as they vied for his attention. Even without the constant buzzing inside his head it would have been difficult to hear what was being said, what with the merciless screaming of the tens of thousands of fans that surrounded him.

“Maynard.”

He snapped to attention as though broken from a trance and looked up to see the quarterback staring at him with a deathly serious expression on his face.

“Ball’s going to you. Just get to the corner of the end zone – I’ll do the rest.”

Maynard stared at him for a moment, trying to speak but unable to find the words. The quarterback leaned forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Relax, Stretch. You’ve got this.”

The receiver finally nodded and gave him a tentative smile. The quarterback grinned.

“Trips Left 846 R-Swing on three. Ready?”

The offense clapped their hands at once.

“BREAK!”

The huddle dissipated as each man moved to his assigned position. Their anticipation now at its peak, the capacity crowd roared and rose to their feet as one, their thundering shaking the stadium to its foundations. Maynard’s senses were overwhelmed as he trotted to the far left side of the field and lined up with two other receivers. To his right, he saw several members of the defense throwing their hands above their head, spurring the audience to bring on as much noise as they could. In front stood the cornerback that had been assigned to cover him, his body stiffened in its stance and his stare burning holes into Maynard’s soul. And it was only a few feet to his left to the defense’s sideline, where it seemed that every opposing player not on the field had gathered for the express purpose of letting him know that he was, among other things, a no-talent hack.

Maynard glanced up at the scoreboard. Three seconds left. Ball on the five-yard line. His team down five points in the most hotly contested championship game in years. And he had just been told that the responsibility for winning said game was resting squarely on his shoulders. Somehow, in his childhood dreams about this moment, he had forgotten to take into account the crippling anxiety that came along with it. Up until this point, football had just been a game, something he played on weekends to blow off steam. Competing in college had been a cakewalk. No team had an answer to the 6’8” wide receiver with the speed of a runningback. Before the end of his sophomore year he had earned the nickname “Stretch” and heard everyone from analysts to opposing fans call him by that name – some with admiration, some derisively. God, he had thought, if they only knew.

Even when he was drafted in the first round and signed to a professional team, the pressure he was supposed to feel never came. Football had become his job and basically his entire life, but somehow, it never stopped being fun. Games had come down to the wire before and when his team couldn’t get it done, Maynard simply shrugged it off, even as the rest of his teammates mourned and raged against their fates. But as the team marched their way through the playoffs he felt for the first time the knot of tension developing in his gut, growing and tightening the further the squad advanced. Now, with the championship on the line, he felt as though it were ready to snap and tear his stomach apart from within.

Just hike the ball, he silently commanded as he stole a glance at the quarterback. As much as he dreaded the result of the play, the wait to even attempt it had become excruciating. For God’s sake would you just –

“Hut, hut…HIKE!”

GO!

In an instant the anxiety and tension were gone, replaced by an almost mechanical impulse that sent Maynard barreling down the field and directly at the player set to cover him. The cornerback’s eyes widened at the explosive speed of his assignment as he furiously backpedaled to keep pace. Despite his best efforts Maynard blew past him, forcing the defensive player to spin around and run normally to try and catch up. But as he spun he tripped over his own feet and tumbled to the ground, leaving Maynard wide open as he crossed into the end zone.

Okay, hard part’s done, Maynard thought. Now all you have to do is not drop the ball.

He reached his designated position, twirled towards the quarterback, and waved his hand wildly above his head to signal that he was open. Most times the passer would have immediately zipped the ball into Maynard’s chest, but in this case he was oblivious to the three hundred pound lineman bearing down on him from behind. As he let go of the ball the lineman slammed into his back, sending the pigskin flying into the air, still headed in Maynard’s direction but soaring much higher than intended.

Oh Christ, he thought, his teeth clenched. That’s going to sail right over my head. The receiver backed up as far as he could while still being in bounds, his eyes glued on the ball as it approached his position. Even if I jump there’s no way I’m getting that. Yet he still found himself crouching down, preparing to leap for a ball that he had no chance of catching. With precision timing he propelled himself into the air, his arms high above his head and his fingers stretched to the point of pain in his joints. His reach extended a dozen feet from the ground and still the ball looked as though it would fly just over his hands.

Just a little more…please, just a little more!

A sea of flashbulbs exploded all around him, bathing Maynard in light at the apex of his jump. Thousands within the stadium and millions around the world felt the breath catch in their chests as the ball floated above the receiver’s hands. With a final prayer, he closed his eyes and reached out higher than he ever had before…

*

“…ladies and gentlemen, we have just witnessed something very strange.” The flustered commentator declared. “As we can see from the replay, Dustin Maynard leapt for the game-winning ball and it looked as though it would be out of his grasp. But then…”

From a dozen angles the broadcast showed Maynard’s arms extended beyond their natural length, the limbs and the hands attached to them suddenly stretching like taffy to snag the ball out of the air just before it could escape his grasp. And just as quickly, the parts snapped back to normal, the receiver pulling the ball into his body as he landed on his feet and then fell to the ground.

“I…have no words.” The commentator stammered. “As you can see from what happened afterwards, Maynard seemed more startled than any of us.”

The broadcast played the video in real time, showing the catch once more and then allowing the viewer to see the aftermath. Immediately after hitting the turf Maynard popped back to his feet, his eyes bulging as they darted back and forth in their sockets. Every player on the field stopped dead in their tracks and stared in his direction with blank expressions and dropped jaws. The crowd had quieted to an awed murmur. Many had their eyes still fixed on the Jumbotron, which was showing a replay of the catch on a loop. Even the referee couldn’t muster up a reaction, his whistle dangling on the corner of his lip while his arms tentatively extended into the air to signal a touchdown.

The receiver scanned his surroundings for a long second before dropping the ball and taking off in the direction of the exit tunnel, bursting through a stunned contingent of photographers and cheerleaders on his way out. Before leaving the field he ripped off his helmet and threw it to the grass, the plastic helm skidding across the turf as he disappeared into the darkness.

“I’m not sure how to explain what we’ve just seen.” The commentator continued, his bearings gathered but his voice still shaky. “But, for the moment, the touchdown stands, and the Knights are the 2008-2009 champions of football. We’ll bring you more information as we get it…”

*

Maynard bolted down the tunnel as fast as he could, his cleats clicking relentlessly beneath him as he ran. He would have run quicker and quieter in the sneakers stashed in his locker but there was no going back to get them. No going back to get anything there. Countless people lined the open hall of concrete but he ignored their stares, focused on nothing but getting away from that stadium as fast as he could. He shed the jersey and body armor as he ran, the cumbersome clattering heavily as it crashed into the ground behind him. The tunnel spit Maynard out into the stadium’s parking lot, which he cut into without breaking his stride. His legs grew heavy and sweat soaked his undershirt as he bolted through the parking lot, not daring to slow down even as though his body threatened to give up on him. Stupid, he chided himself. The one time you lose control and it’s in front of a massive worldwide audience.

Maynard had convinced himself that this day would never come, that he had gained sufficient rein over his abilities to lead a normal life. He had even managed to keep his parents in the dark. Nobody knew except for the friends he had been playing with the day his talent surfaced, when he had tried to retrieve a ball that had been stranded in the branches of an oak tree. As he reached with all his might his arm seemed to snap free of some unseen confine, stretching as far as necessary to reach the desired object.

He remembered turning back towards the other kids with the ball in his hands, his mouth agape, his eyes just as wide as theirs. Before he could say a word they backed away and sprinted towards their homes to tell their parents about the freak that lived next door. None of the adults believed them, but it didn’t matter. The kids never spoke to him again and it wasn’t until his family moved some time later that Maynard could make new friends.

It was on that day that he resolved to never let his abilities see the light of day again, and until just a few minutes ago, he had succeeded in that task. But all it took was one second, an instant of lost control to erase years of meticulous secrecy. Maynard felt the hot sting of tears in the corners of his eyes and wiped them away as they blurred his vision.

After crossing the boundless stretch of concrete Maynard ducked through a gate and found himself on the side of the state route that serviced the stadium. Taxis lined up in the right lane for a solid mile, waiting for the opportunity to take the more inebriated members of the crowd home. Maynard strode down the queue, scanning the drivers to try and find the one who had least likely been listening to the game. He settled on the cab driven by the first turbaned man he saw, ducking into the backseat and slamming the door behind him.

“Where to, sir?” the cabbie inquired, paying no mind to his client’s odd choice of attire.

“Courtyard Hotel.” Maynard snapped, nervously eying the stadium as though the building itself might come after him.

“Okay, Courtyard Hotel sir.” The driver flicked on his meter and spoke into his CB radio to let the dispatcher know his passenger’s destination. The radio spat back a garbled string of words as Maynard sat back in his seat and let out a long sigh, allowing himself to relax for a moment. He had no idea what he was going to do. What could he do? Even if he could get back to his room and gather his possessions without being noticed, then what? Try and book a flight? Rent a car? No method of escape would allow him to move undetected.

The possibilities swirled within his mind as he rubbed his temple with his fingers, trying to concentrate his thoughts. Out of the corner of his eye Maynard saw a flash of light and turned to see fireworks flaring in the air above the stadium. The display took the stars from the sky as it illuminated the night in a thousand different fiery shades. Those must be part of the closing ceremonies, Maynard guessed. Apparently the witnessing of his abilities hadn’t been such a scarring experience. Suddenly the thought occurred to him that maybe his spontaneous display wasn’t the catastrophic event he was making it out to be. Maybe what he believed to be the fear and ignorance of the general populace was nothing more than the base cruelty of children.

“Oh dear, what a sight.” The cabbie declared in a thick accent. “I wonder what happened to make such a commotion.”

“Yeah.” Maynard mumbled, his lips curling into a slight smile. “So do I.”