Even fresh from its shaded harbor in the garage, the Prius felt like a sauna. Landon’s palms and feet burst into sweat, and a bead of it scampered down his cheek like a roach. He swiped at it with a padded hand and glanced at his father, hunched over the wheel like a big kid on his little brother’s tricycle. As his father pulled into the school parking lot that overlooked the football field, he glanced Landon’s way. “You’ll be okay. Your whole team is nervous, I’m sure.” They pulled up to the end of the lot, and Landon craned his neck to look down on the field. Only a handful of guys were there, including Coach Bell and Brett. Skip was rifling footballs to Xander and Mike. “Skip Dreyfus isn’t nervous,” Landon declared. “Neither is Brett Bell.” “Well, they’re the best two players on the team, and Brett’s uncle plays for the Giants.” His dad stopped the car. “Everyone else is sweating bullets, I bet.” Landon wasn’t so sure, but he opened the door and said good-bye to his father.
