Mark Lansing never wanted to stand out. He was perfectly happy disappearing into a football huddle with the rest of the team until one play made him the talk of the town. Thrust into a spotlight he never wanted, every choice can reshape his future, and every decision could transform him in ways he never believed possible. Mark’s destiny will be determined on the field … assuming he can figure out how to dress the part.

Chapter 43

It had been a long time since Mark had watched a football game from the stands. He’d forgotten how cold it got sitting on the bleachers.

“Seriously, how do they do it?” Emily asked.

“Do what?” Caitlyn replied.

“Stand there cheering in those little skirts for three hours.”

“It’s not so bad if you keep moving,” Caitlyn explained.

“You’re so right. When I…” Mark stopped.

Three pairs of eyes turned toward him. Two belonged to girls who knew nothing about his past. The third belonged to Emily.

“When I went to a State college game with my dad,” he finished, “it got SOOO cold.”

Emily gave him a look but said nothing.

“That’s not the same thing,” Alice said.

“It’s kind of the same thing,” Mark replied, hoping nobody would ask him to explain.

Caitlyn pointed toward the sideline. “See? They have warm-up jackets for when it gets really cold.”

Mark settled deeper beneath the blanket between Alice and Emily. Around them, the stands were packed. Stanton hadn’t won a league championship in six years, and the crowd seemed convinced this might finally be their year. The band played the school fight song while the cheerleaders worked the sideline.

“Wow!” Caitlyn sprang to her feet.

Emily looked up at her. “What now?”

“They did a basket toss!”

“Are you really watching the cheerleaders?” Emily asked.

“Isn’t everyone?”

Mark was watching one cheerleader in particular.

Tina Miller stood in the front row, her blonde ponytail swinging as she moved with the others. She smiled, waved her pom-poms, and looked perfectly innocent. It was difficult to reconcile the girl on the sideline with the witch who had helped turn Mark’s life upside down. A week ago, he wouldn’t have believed any of it.

Now he couldn’t look at her without wondering what she might do next.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the loudspeakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, before tonight’s kickoff, please direct your attention to the field entrance. Tonight is the last home game for these senior athletes who have dedicated countless hours to their teams and left their mark on our school. Please join me in recognizing them!”
The crowd rose. Coach Denny, Miss Ryan, and Principal Samuel waited at midfield to greet the seniors and their parents.

Mark glanced at Emily. She gave him a small smile and pulled the blanket tighter around them both.

The announcer began calling names.

“Aden Cutler!”

Alice jumped to her feet, clapping enthusiastically as Aden walked onto the field beside his parents, looking uncomfortable with the attention.

“WOOO! GO ADEN!”

Aden glanced toward the stands and seemed to relax.

Mark smiled, too. Aden was a good guy. Alice deserved someone who looked at her that way.

Still, a dull ache settled behind Mark’s ribs. He and Aden spent years together at early-morning lifting sessions, running routes, and catching passes until the movements became second nature. Aden had always been good but Mark had been better and everyone knew when the game was on the line, Jeffrey had always looked for Mark.

Now Aden was the senior receiver being honored, with Mark sitting beneath a blanket in the stands.

“Tina Miller!”

Tina walked onto the field with her parents. They looked like any other family, proud of their daughter and happy to be part of the ceremony.

Mark wondered what they knew. Tina was a witch and Bridget had hinted her parents were witches, too.

He wanted to hate Tina. Some days, that seemed like the easiest thing to do. She’d pressured him into helping her brother, and now she expected him to use magic to put things right.

Everything you borrow is something you owe.

The first time Bridget said it, the phrase sounded like a harmless witch’s maxim, but seeing the trio walk across the field it could also be taken as a threat.

Had Tina and her parents convinced themselves that giving Mark a girl’s body somehow made up for everything else he’d lost?

Tina smiled at the crowd, waving and soaking in the applause like nothing was wrong.

“Jeffrey Simmons!”

The stadium erupted.

Mark stood with everyone else, cheering as Jeffrey charged from the tunnel beside his parents. The quarterback raised a hand toward the crowd, grinning as teammates slapped his shoulders. The student section stomped the bleachers, and somewhere behind Mark, a group of boys began chanting Jeffrey’s name.

Mark cheered, too. He couldn’t help it.

He’d known Janice and Pete Simmons for almost as long as he’d known anyone in town. Pete looked as proud as any father could, walking beside his son beneath the stadium lights. Jeffrey was Stanton’s quarterback, its captain, a hometown hero.
Mark knew the little things the crowd couldn’t see. Jeffrey adjusted his wristband again, the nervous habit he fell back on whenever he needed something to do with his hands.

For a moment, Mark could almost picture himself beside Jeffrey, jogging onto the field together and exchanging a grin before taking their places. He could feel the familiar anticipation, the last moment before the whistle when the whole world seemed simple. It had always been the two of them facing the opponent together.

The crowd roared when Jeffrey reached the end of the line and raised his hands with the other seniors.

Mark sat down and tucked his hands beneath the blanket.

“Gina Young!”

Gina emerged from the tunnel with her parents, a bouquet of roses in her arms. A photographer stepped forward to take their picture.

Mark watched the families gathered on the field and thought about his own parents.

His mother had never missed a game in ten years. She always greeted him afterward with the same smile and the same question: Did you have fun? His dad came to practices whenever work allowed, standing on the sidelines with the other fathers and trading stories about their own playing days. Their memories grew more impressive with every retelling.

They’d been proud of him. Not just because he could catch a football, but because he was their son, their boy, with a place on the team.

Tonight, they were at home, not knowing there was anything to mourn.

Mark pulled the blanket closer around his shoulders. The seniors gathered for photographs, smiling beside their parents while the crowd applauded.

At least they’d get to finish their season on the field.

The first quarter began well enough that Mark almost enjoyed it.

Stanton’s running backs found room behind a line that was opening holes, and Jeffrey moved the offense with easy confidence. The home crowd cheered every first down. Even the two men sitting in front of Mark seemed pleased with the way things were going.

“Keep it on the ground!” the loud man bellowed. “Run it right down their throats!”

His quieter companion nodded. “They’re blocking well. Thomasville is crowding the line, though. They’ll adjust.”

“Let them adjust!”

Mark almost smiled. Some things about football hadn’t changed.

Coach Denny liked to establish the run, draw the safeties toward the line, and then take a shot downfield. Mark knew the rhythm of the offense as well as he knew his own heartbeat.

He watched Jeffrey glance toward the sideline, receive the call, and return to the huddle. Aden lined up wide of the left, Tim Miller on the right.

Alice pointed. “There’s Aden.”

“Think he’ll get a touchdown?” Trisha asked.

Mark said, “I think he’ll have a good game.”

Stanton’s running game was working, and the drive moved quickly. The team crossed midfield, reached the red zone, then punched the ball into the end zone behind its powerful offensive line.

Stanton 7, Thomasville 0.

Alice shouted, “Yay! Stanton!” Yolanda and Trisha clapped too, but their mittens barely made a sound.

“Seven-nothing!” the broad-shouldered man shouted. “That’s how you start a game!”

His companion seemed satisfied. “Good opening drive.”

“Good? That was beautiful!”

Mark applauded with everyone else. Despite the ache, he wanted Stanton to win, he needed Stanton to win. The seniors deserved it and Jeffrey deserved it.

Thomasville’s offense didn't bother with anything fancy. Their fullback drove into the middle, their tailback followed, and Stanton’s defenders struggled to bring them down. Four yards. Five yards. Another first down as Stanton’s defenders fought to catch their breath.

“Wrap him up!” the loud man shouted as a runner broke through a tackle.

“They have to win the line,” his companion said. “Thomasville’s big up front.”

“Then our line needs to get bigger!”

Emily tucked her hands beneath the blanket. “It’s cold enough without that guy yelling.”

“He’s probably yelling to keep warm,” Caitlyn said.

That got a laugh from the girls.

Mark barely heard them. He watched Stanton’s defenders return to their positions, some already looking tired with hands on their hips, but the defense stiffened near the goal line and forced a field goal.

Stanton 7, Thomasville 3.

“We’re still ahead,” Trisha said.

“For now,” Emily replied.

Stanton took over and went back to the ground game. The backs picked up short gains, Jeffrey kept the chains moving, and the clock continued to tick. Thomasville’s defensive line started shooting gaps, though, forcing Jeffrey to hurry whenever he dropped back.

Then Jeffrey found Tim.

It was a quick pass toward the sideline. Tim caught it against his chest, turned, and squeezed out a few extra yards before a defender shoved him out of bounds.

The crowd cheered.

“Good to see Miller make that one,” the loud man said. “Maybe he’s getting last week out of his system.”

His companion shrugged. “One bad game doesn’t make a bad receiver.”

“Didn’t he cost us last week’s game?”

“It was one catch. Let’s see what he does with the next one.”

Mark let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and toward the sideline.

Tina was there in her cheerleader uniform, shaking her pom-poms with the other girls. She wore the same bright smile as everyone else, but Mark watched her eyes follow Tim all the way back to the huddle.

Stanton passed again, this time Jeffrey looked downfield to Aden. The ball traveled over the middle, The pass sailed, and Aden’s fingertips brushed the ball, but he couldn’t bring it in.

“Catch the damned ball!”

“Ahhhh…” Alice murmured. “He tried.”

“That was a tough catch,” Emily said.

Mark nodded. Aden had never been Jeffrey’s primary target, but that person was now sitting in the stands wearing 4-inch heels.
The visitors resumed their pounding attack. Stanton managed a stop, then another, but every tackle seemed to cost the defense more effort than the last. When Thomasville finally broke through for a touchdown, the home crowd’s enthusiastic cheers started to fade.

Stanton 7, Thomasville 10.

The cheerleaders kept moving. The band kept playing. Mark pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

Coach Denny had no intention of letting the game turn into a shootout. Stanton returned to the ground game, using short runs to keep the clock moving and the ball out of Thomasville’s hands.

“Ball control,” the thinner man observed.

“Boring,” his companion grumbled.

“Effective, if they can keep doing it.”

Mark almost smiled again. Coach Denny had never cared much about entertaining the spectators. He cared about winning.

Jeffrey finally dropped back near midfield. Thomasville sent pressure, forcing him to throw off balance. The ball went towards Tim, striking his palms and popping into the air. The defender knocking it away before Tim could recover.

“You’ve got to catch that!” the loud man shouted.

“He was hit as the ball arrived,” his companion said.

“It hit his hands!”

Mark stared at the field.

Tim stood with hands on hips and head bowed. Jeffrey came over to say something like he’d always done with Mark. Tim nodded and hurried back to the huddle.

Mark remembered the feeling.

The ball spinning toward him beneath the lights. The instant he’d realized he wasn’t going to make the catch, and the sickening certainty before the ball hit the ground.

Mark looked at his hands, now looking nothing like they did a week ago. So much had changed since then but the memory wouldn’t go away.

“Marcy?”

Emily’s voice brought him back. “What?”

“You all right?”

All the girls were talking and watching the game, all thinking he was one of them.

“Yeah.”

He knew she didn't believe him. But she was smart enough not to press, either.

Stanton stayed with the running game, grinding out another first down. The crowd cheered, but something had changed.

Jeffrey made another throw, short to Aden over the middle. He caught it cleanly, tucked the ball away, and turned upfield for a modest gain as Alice jumped to her feet.

“Yay, Aden!”

Four girls scrambled to pull the blanket back into place.

“Alice. It’s cold!”

“Sorry,” Alice said, grinning. “Did you see that catch?”

“We saw it,” Emily said, shivering beneath the blanket.

“Good catch,” the thinner man said. “Kept the drive alive.”

“Four yards isn’t going to win this game,” his companion grunted.

Mark watched Aden return to the huddle.

It had been an ordinary catch. Nothing spectacular. A short pass, a few yards gained, the sort of play that rarely made anyone’s highlights.

But Aden had caught it cleanly, without fumbling or fighting the ball. He’d turned upfield almost as soon as it touched his hands. Mark couldn’t remember Aden ever making it look quite so easy

The drive stalled three plays later, and Stanton punted.

Thomasville took over and went back to work. The visitors went back on the attack, pounding the middle then sending the tailback outside when Stanton’s linebackers crowded in. By the time Thomasville reached the red zone, Stanton’s defenders looked exhausted.

The touchdown almost felt inevitable.

Stanton 7, Thomasville 17.

The loud man threw up his hands. “We can’t stop the run, and now we can’t score!”

“They’ll adjust at halftime,” his companion said.

“They’d better.”

Mark watched Coach Denny confer with his assistants. There wasn’t much time left in the half. Stanton couldn’t rely on its running game if it wanted to close the gap before the break.

Jeffrey went back to the air.

He tried Tim on a route toward the sideline. Tim raised his hands late, and the ball struck his forearms before falling to the turf.

For a second, Tim didn’t move.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” the loud man shouted. “What’s wrong with that kid?”

“Looks like he’s got the yips,” the thinner man said.

“Well, he needs to stop thinking and catch it!”

Mark felt the words like someone had landed a blow.

“Poor Tim,” Alice said. “He looks miserable.”

“Tim’s an asshole,” Yolanda said.

“But he’s OUR asshole,” Emily replied.

Across the field, Tina had stopped cheering as pom-poms hung at her sides. Her eyes followed Tim as he walked back to the huddle then she turned towards the stands and looked straight at Mark.

Mark held her gaze for a moment before turning away.

He knew what Tina wanted. Tim was her brother, and everyone believed Tim had been responsible for the dropped pass that cost Stanton the last game. Tina thought because Mark was the one who actually dropped it, that he owed Tim a boon.

She expected Mark to cast Maiden’s Delight to help the team and Mark agreed to do that.

But he’d never promised to cast it on Tim. Tina heard what she wanted to hear.

Jeffrey led the offense back to the line, pressure came from his right, forcing him to scramble away from the pocket. For a moment, he looked toward Tim.

Tim was open, but Jeffrey hesitated as a defender closed in, and he threw across his body toward Aden instead.

The pass arrived slightly behind the receiver, and Aden, reaching back, pulled it in just before the defender could knock it away. He stumbled as he turned, holding onto the ball as he was shoved out of bounds.

The crowd rose in a wave of surprise and applause.

“Yay Aden!” Alice shouted, and this time the other girls joined her.

Mark remained seated.

He'd seen the throw. He'd seen Aden change direction, and secure a ball that would have been difficult even for an experienced receiver. It was like watching himself.

The thinner man nodded appreciatively. “Now that’s a catch.”

The loud man grunted. “At least somebody can hold on to the ball.”

Mark looked to the sidelines, and watched Tina’s gaze move from Aden to Tim, then settle on Mark as the final seconds of the half ticked away.
“Ten points down at home,” the loud man muttered. “Can't stop the run. Can't catch a pass. Wonderful.”

“They’ll make halftime adjustments.” his companion replied.

“They'd better make some good ones.”

Alice kept shouting for Aden, hoping to get his attention before he disappeared into the tunnel. She shook Mark’s arm. “He is playing great … don’t you think?

“Yeah.” Mark nodded. “He’s playing great.”

All Mark wanted was to make his own decisions. All he wanted was to feel in control. Now he sat comfortably beneath a blanket listening to spectators arguing about the game as the band took the field.

Mark looked toward the tunnel where the players had disappeared.

Tina was right about one thing. He’d been the reason Stanton lost last week’s game. He had to do everything he could to make sure Stanton didn’t lose another one.

Chapter 44

A dozen girls stood near the entrance to the football facility, all speaking in worried whispers. Their boyfriends would be miserable companions after a loss, and with Stanton trailing by ten, they prepared for the worst.

At the front stood Betsy Collins. She'd dated Vince for nearly a year, and with Gina busy cheering on the sidelines, apparently the younger girls decided Betsy was in charge.

“Hey, Betsy.”

She turned, her face immediately turning into a frown.

“What are you doing here?”

It sounded less like a question than an accusation.

“I’m here for Jeffrey.”

“Seriously?” Betsy folded her arms. “First you go after Gina in the hallway, then you play mind games with Tim, and now you want Jeffrey. You’re nothing but trouble, Marcy Lansing.”

Some of the girls standing around Betsy nodded in agreement. Others didn’t say a thing.

Mark said, “You don’t understand,” knowing he could never explain.

Betsy stepped closer. “You've got Jeffrey so flustered he can barely complete a pass. And now you want to go in there and distract him some more?”

Mark nodded, “That's exactly why I need to talk to him.”

For a moment, Betsy seemed too astonished to answer. Then she laughed.

“You want to speak to him? In the middle of the game?”

“It's important.”

Betsy put hands on her hips, speaking to Mark as if he were a two-year-old. “Coach Denny would have a fit if he caught another girl sneaking into the locker room. He'd never let us in here ever again.”

Two girls near the back exchanged amused looks. One of them stepped forward.

“We're going in.” She held up a key. “We borrowed this from Doc Glen.” The label stamped into the metal read: WEIGHT ROOM.

“Don't you dare, Felicia.” Betsy warned.

Felicia smiled sweetly. “It's the last game of the season. There aren’t any more home games.”

The other girl beckoned Mark forward with an index finger. “We have room for one more if you want to join us, Marcy. Try not to look suspicious.”

Mark looked down at his dress. As if that were possible in this situation.

The weight room sat empty, its racks casting long shadows beneath unlit fluorescent lights.

“Wait here.” She whispered, then pointed at Mark’s high-heeled boots. “Take those off. We need to be very quiet. I’ll let you know when the coast is clear.”

Mark nodded.

Mark sat on a bench, pulling the leather spikes off his feet. The smell of thousands of hours of sweat filled sessions filled the room as one boot came off and then the other.

Coach Denny shouted obscenities somewhere beyond the wall. His halftime speech had begun.

Felicia peeked around the door, then smiled.

“All clear.”

Mark smiled back. These girls weren’t so dumb. They knew everyone on the team was expected to be in the locker room when Coach Denny started his speech.

Mark had heard stories about girls sneaking into the football facility at halftime, but never imagined he’d be one of them. The air in the hallway was warm and damp, heavy with the smell of sweat and disinfectant. Sounds of angry deep voices echoed down the hall, punctuated every few seconds by Coach Denny's unmistakable bark.

Mark snuck with the others past the trainers room, and into their destination, each shutting their door behind them once they arrived.

His phone was out in seconds - Need to talk. Bathroom. Middle stall. Now. Important.

The room smelled worse than he remembered. It didn’t seem possible he’d sat in this very spot on Monday, before the changes made it impossible for him to stay on the team. He remembered his shock the first time he'd noticed the change. It was here where his journey really started, with a swell on his breast, and two slight bumps appearing where none had been before.

Now he looked down at breasts four times the size which now seemed ordinary.

He blamed the curse. It had made him comfortable with something that should feel foreign.

A soft knock sounded against the stall door. “Marcy?”

Mark tried to look through the crack. “Jeffrey?”

Jeffrey’s voice sounded back. “Is that you in there?”

“No, I just texted you from another bathroom.”

There was a pause before Jeffrey responded. “Very funny.”

Mark opened the stall.

Jeffrey stood outside in his football uniform, his helmet tucked beneath one arm. His hair was damp with sweat, and his expression was caught somewhere between confusion and irritation. His eyes widened as he gave Mark a once over, traveling from Mark's face to his clothes to his bare feet and back again, making Mark suddenly very conscious of every detail of his appearance.

“What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too.” Mark said.

“I’m in the middle of a game, Marcy.” Jeffrey said, annoyed.

“I need to talk to you.” Mark pulled on Jeffrey’s arm. “Come with me.”

Mark grabbed Jeffrey’s wrist and led him toward the showers, where he turned on a tap, hoping the running water would cover the sound of their voices.

They stood face to face, but not the way Mark remembered. The school's football program had listed Mark at 5’10 and Jeffrey at 6’3. But without heels Mark’s eyes were level with Jeffrey’s Adam’s Apple.

Jeffrey pulled his arm free. “You need to stop. You can't just appear out of nowhere, drag me someplace, and expect me to go along.”

“I need a favor.”

“Shouldn’t you call Tim?” Jeffrey asked. “You’re his rally girl.”

“Seriously Jeffrey?” Mark said, “I hope you know me well enough to know I have no interest in Tim. I had a good reason for being there.”

Jeffrey took a slight step back. “But you were with him before the game. I thought maybe…”

Mark shivered at the thought, “I’m only concerned with helping the team win. It’s the only thing that matters.”

Jeffrey shook his head. “You broke into the football facility to tell me that?”

“I broke into the football facility to explain how you can win.”

That got Jeffrey’s attention. “What have you seen?”

Mark smiled. This situation was as ludicrous as anyone could imagine with Mark standing in a dress and Jeffrey in a jersey as two girls did god knows what with their boyfriends in nearby stalls as the showerhead ran and Coach Denny shouted.

People had questioned their friendship for as long as Mark could remember but the thing that fueled it was an unbreakable trust.

Mark picked up a bar of soap and turned toward the tiled wall. With a few quick strokes, he drew a crude formation.

“Thomasville is bringing pressure up the middle. Their linebackers are charging forward, and their corners are getting left alone on the outside. They're betting you won't have time to throw deep.”

Jeffrey glanced at the drawing. “I know. Somebody's in my face every time I drop back.”

“So stop waiting for the deep route to develop. Throw short. Slants, quick outs, stick routes. Get the ball out before the rush gets there.”

“Coach wants us to establish the run.”

“And the run's getting you nowhere. They're stacking the line because they know you're afraid to throw to Tim.”

Jeffrey's expression tightened. “It’s not Tim’s fault.”

“I'm not blaming him.”

“Everybody else is.”

“I know. That's why I'm telling you to stop making the whole game depend on him.”

Jeffrey studied the drawing again. “What’s your plan?”

Mark said, “Throw it to Aden.”

“To Aden?” Jeffrey said, “You’re sure?”

Mark nodded. “Yes. I’m sure.”

For a moment, it was like their old friendship. The same teasing rhythm. The same unspoken understanding.

Jeffrey's smile faded. He was looking at Mark, with the same puzzled intensity as in the past. “What's going on with you, today?”

Mark's heart gave an uncomfortable thump. “I'm trying to help you win.”

“It’s not that. You've been different all week. One minute you're arguing with Gina, the next you're doing things that make no sense.”

Mark swallowed. He remembered sitting beside Jeffrey on the team bus, sharing headphones, arguing about music, and talking about everything except the one thing Mark couldn’t discuss. On the quieter rides home, Mark remembered looking at Jeffrey and wondering if Jeffrey ever looked at him the same way Mark found himself looking at his friend.

Those memories belonged to Mark alone now. To Jeffrey, those memories never happened.

“You're my friend,” Mark said.

Jeffrey's expression softened. “I know.”

“Then trust me.”

“I do trust you.”

“Not enough.”

Jeffrey looked as though he wanted to argue, but he didn't. Instead, he set his helmet on the bench and held out his hands. “What do you want me to do?”

Mark took them. Something moved between them the moment their fingers touched,

It wasn't the familiar sensation Mark had experienced when using magic with the girls. And it wasn't the forceful surge he'd felt when he connected with Tim. This was different. The power flowed in both directions, warm and immediate, as if both sides had been waiting for it.

It stole Mark’s breath.

For an instant, Jeffrey seemed clearer than he'd ever been. Not just his face or the tension in his shoulders, but the uncertainty beneath his confidence, and the fear that the team was counting on him to do something he couldn't manage.

And beneath that, there was something else. A feeling that made Mark's chest tighten.

Jeffrey's fingers closed around his. “Marcy? Are you okay?”

Mark blinked. “Sorry.”

“What was that?”

“I don't know.”

It was the truth, and it frightened him more than a lie would have.

Jeffrey didn't let go.

Mark stood on his tiptoes. “Stop doubting yourself. You're the best quarterback in the state, and you're going to prove it in the second half.”
Jeffrey gave a weak laugh. “You really believe that?”

“I know it.”

“We're down ten points.”

“So score. Then score again.”

“Simple as that?”

“It's football.”

Jeffrey smiled, and this time it was the real one. The same confident grin Mark had known for years.

“That's more like it,” Mark murmured.

Jeffrey's smile faltered as he studied him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Looking at me like there's something you're not telling me.”

Mark's throat tightened. There were so many things he wasn't telling him. Things about the game, about the spell, about who he'd been and what he'd lost. And things about Jeffrey himself.

“You don't need to know everything right now,” Mark said. “Just go out there and play.”

Jeffrey glanced at their joined hands.

“Do you really think Aden can do it?”

“Yes.”

“Even if Coach doesn't want to change the plan?”

“Convince him. And if he won't listen, change the play in the huddle. You've done it before.”

Jeffrey laughed. “This isn’t 4th grade flag football.”

Mark smiled. “You always made the right call.”

Jeffrey shook his head, smiling. “You're impossible.”

“I know but that’s why you love me.”

Mark froze as he said the word. Jeffrey was still holding his hands. Neither of them seemed quite sure how to let go as Mark became acutely aware of how close they were standing. The impulse wouldn’t go away.

He'd spent years telling himself that what he felt for Jeffrey was something he could put aside, something that didn't need to be examined. Now, with Jeffrey looking at him as though he were the only person in the room, that old certainty felt less secure.

Maybe the magic was making everything more intense. Maybe it was simply removing the distance he'd always kept between himself and the thing he wanted.

Mark lifted with his toes and kissed Jeffrey's cheek.

It was a small, impulsive gesture, meant to give him confidence. But the moment his lips touched Jeffrey's skin, the power surged again.
Jeffrey went still.

Mark pulled back, suddenly uncertain whether he'd made a terrible mistake.

“Sorry,” he said. “I don't know why I did that.”

Jeffrey touched the spot on his cheek. His eyes searched Mark's face, and for a moment he seemed just as bewildered as Mark felt.

A slow smile spread across Jeffrey’s face. “Don't apologize.”

Mark's heart beat harder. “Jeffrey…”

“I mean it.”

The sound of Coach Denny's voice carried through the wall. The halftime speech was ending. Soon the players would be back on the field, and if Jeffrey wasn't there, someone would come looking.

Mark forced himself to step away.

“You have a game to win.”

Jeffrey glanced at the door, then back at him. “And afterward?”

Mark hesitated.

He wanted to say something clever. Something that would make the moment easier to manage. Instead, the truth slipped out.

“Afterward, we talk.”

Jeffrey studied him for another second, then nodded.

“Afterward.”

He picked up his helmet. At the door, he stopped and looked back.

“Marcy?”

“Yeah?”

“I'm glad you came.”

Mark managed a smile. “Go win your game.”

Jeffrey grinned and disappeared into the locker room.

Mark remained by the shower wall, listening to the sound of cleats striking tile as the team returned to the field. He waited until the footsteps faded before turning off the tap.

He'd come here to give Jeffrey a few simple instructions. Instead, he'd held his best friend's hands and felt something pass between them that he couldn't explain. Mark pressed his fingers to his lips, then dropped his hand.

The girls were waiting outside. The second half was about to begin. And somewhere beyond the locker room, Jeffrey was preparing to lead Stanton back onto the field.

Mark hoped his advice would be enough.

He wasn't sure what to hope about the rest.

Chapter 45

Mark stared at the field, ignoring everyone else as Jeffrey periodically scanned the stands.

Mark stood.

“Jeffrey Simmons, leads the pack! Bringing Stanton football back!”

He finished with a whoop, one hand on his hip, the other pointed at the sky.

Every head in the vicinity turned. So did the target of his cheer.

“Why didn’t you tell me we were doing cheers?” Caitlyn said, sounding disappointed.

Mark watched Jeffrey’s stare. A look showed half the people in the stadium staring as well. Mark jumped off the bleacher, burying his head under the blanket. Emily put her mouth next to his ear.

“What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know.” Mark said, embarrassed. “I used Maiden’s Delight on Tina, Gina, and Cait today. I think those cheerleaders might have scrambled my brains.”

“No.” Emily shook her head. “You’ve been practically glowing since you got back.” She drew closer and spoke in a whisper. “What did you do?”

He stared at her. “Promise you won’t get mad?”

“I promise.”

“Pinky promise?”

Mark smiled as Emily wrapped her pinky around his. Their last pinky promise happened when they were kids, but that didn’t make the vow any less binding.

“I kissed Jeffrey.”

“You what?” A surge of warmth entered Mark’s body through his pinky. He had no choice but to sever the link.

Mark flexed his fingers. “You said you wouldn’t get mad.”

Emily shook her head. “I’m not mad.”

“Liar.”

Emily put her arm around Mark and whispered in his ear.. “I love you Mark. I know you love me too, in your own way, but that’s my problem, not yours.”

“You sure?”

Emily sighed. “So you kissed him?”

“On the cheek. For luck.”

“Sure.” Emily said, sounding unconvinced.

Stanton's offense broke the huddle.

The louder man spoke, “Same problem as the first half. They keep trying to force things downfield, and Thomasville's got everybody up near the line. Denny needs to quit being stubborn.”

His companion adjusted his glasses. “They've had success running it.”

Mark knew the formation. He knew what Jeffrey should be looking for. They snapped the ball. Thomasville's linebackers surged forward, just as they had all afternoon. One broke free.

Jeffrey planted his foot and fired to the right.

Aden Cutler cut across the field on a slant, caught the ball in stride, and turned upfield. The nearest defender grabbed for him, catching only the back of his jersey before Aden twisted, gaining another five yards before two more defenders brought him down.

“YAY ADEN!” Alice cried.

Mark stared out at the field. Jeffrey stared back. So did Tina.

“Does anyone want something hot and steamy?”

Trisha smiled at the group, and started passing out hot chocolates. Her smile grew largest when she saw Mark, whispering in his ear as she handed him a cup.

“There’s a nasty rumor going around that someone in a red dress snuck into the football locker room at halftime.”

Mark stared at Trisha. He saw no accusation in her look, in fact it almost bordered on respect. No doubt the rumors were spreading like wildfire. It would only be a matter of time before Gina found out. Mark nodded his thanks as he took the hot chocolate and took a sip.

Stanton stopped Thomasville cold on defense. Mark barely watched as the thought kept returning.

After the game.

It was a ridiculous thing to hold on to, especially since he already had plans. Winning was the only thing that mattered, but the memory lingered.

“Are you all right?” Emily asked.

“I’m fine.”

“You keep staring at the field.”

“I'm watching the game.”

“But you aren't following the ball.”

Caitlyn leaned forward from the row behind them. “Can we do another cheer?”

Mark shook his head, hoping to rid his mind of the voices

Down on the field, Stanton's offense broke the huddle. The ball was snapped.

Again, Thomasville's linebackers surged forward, just as they had all afternoon. One of them came free through the middle. Jeffrey planted his foot and fired to the right, right into Aden’s hands, running across the field on a slant

Alice jumped up, just like she’d done all game, “Yay! Aden!”

Aden twisted free gaining another five yards before two defenders brought him down.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Mark said, finding himself jumping up and down with Alice.

On the field, Jeffrey clapped his hands as he called the next play. Stanton moved quickly to the line. Another short pass, this one to the tight end. A run up the middle. A quick out to Aden, who caught the ball near the sideline and stepped out just beyond the first-down marker.

Jeffrey didn’t remember him. Not really. The memory charm stole the world’s memories of him, but some part of his old self remained tonight in Aden.

Aden caught another pass, this one over the middle.

A look to the sideline showed Tina glaring.

Jeffrey looked left, drawing in the safety with his eyes, then fired a bullet to the back corner of the end zone over a defender's outstretched hand and into Aden’s.

Touchdown.

The stadium exploded with an emotion so strong Mark nearly passed out.

“That's what I'm talking about!” the loud man shouted. “Quick passes! Get the ball out!”

The extra point sailed through the uprights.

Thomasville 17, Stanton 14.

Mark sank back into his seat, grinning despite himself.

Emily nudged her shoulder. “You look happy.”

“I am happy.”

“Because Stanton scored?” Emily needled, “Or is there another reason?”

“Will you stop?”

Mark's eyes found Jeffrey. The quarterback was jogging toward the sideline, a helmet tucked beneath his arm as he looked up toward the stands and their eyes met.

Jeffrey raised one hand to point at the bleachers, barely more than a gesture. Mark pointed back.

Tina glared at him. So did Gina.

The game turned into a defensive slugfest. “Throw it to #83, Coach!” The loud man shouted.

Alice grabbed Mark’s arm. “They’re talking about Aden!”

“They are.” Mark responded, blushing at the sudden attention.

Mark reached into his purse, re-reading the note for the thousandth time.

Your shame no longer hides,
it blooms as frost provides.
The curse I wove runs deep,
a vow you're bound to keep.
To wear the long-sought crown,
you must put on the gown.
And pay the price to fire,
the change your heart desires.

He’d embraced the shame he’d held inside for so long. He’d felt the providing frost of Maiden’s Delight more times than he could count. He’d given in to the curse. He’d put on the gown and he’d paid the price, giving his abilities to Aden. And now Mark looked out to the field to his heart’s desire.

He’d done everything the note asked. Now he needed Stanton to win the long-sought crown.

Leaving only a vow.

Five minutes showed on the clock.

The loud man shouted, “You can’t run the ball to win, coach!”

Coach Denny shouted something from the sideline and Jeffrey nodded back.

The line shifted at the line of scrimmage. The back took the handoff, and ran into a wall of Thomasville defenders.

But Jeffrey had kept the ball.

He rolled left, firing a short pass to Aden, who had slipped behind the linebackers and sprinted down the sideline before he was forced out of bounds.

Mark screamed. “He’s doing it!”

Caitlyn asked. “Doing what?”

Mark explained, “Jeffrey called that play.”

The offense hurried to the line. Thomasville's defenders scrambled to reset. Jeffrey signaled Aden to moved across the formation. Tim lined up wide on the opposite side.

Another first down. This time, Tim caught the ball.

Coach Denny signaled a play but Jeffrey was watching, calling his own from the shotgun. Coach Denny yelled. The team got another first down.

The team moved to a hurry-up offense. Quick passes. Five yards. Seven yards. Another first down. The drive crawled forward, it wasn't spectacular, but it was steady. Every completion made Thomasville's defense hesitate, and every hesitation gave Jeffrey a little more space.

Mark had never seen Jeffrey look more calm. Nothing ever stopped his friend when he got in the zone. Aden caught a pass near the ten-yard line and was pushed out at the three. The running back plunged over the line on the next play. Touchdown.

For a heartbeat, Mark couldn't make a sound. The Stanton stands exploded in celebration jumping up and down.

Stanton 21, Thomasville 17.

“Marcy?” Emily said.

Mark looked down and saw he’d been gripping Emily’s hand hard enough to hurt.

“Sorry.”

Tina stood at the edge of the cheerleaders' formation, perfectly still. Her teammates were jumping and shouting around her, but Tina only stared at Mark.

Mark stared back. He wasn’t afraid. He’d done what he’d done.To hell with the consequences.

The clock showed fifty-eight seconds remaining.

Thomasville's offense came out throwing. They had no other choice.

The hometown crowd was on its feet as the seconds ticked down and Thomasville hurried to the line. Their quarterback took the snap and fired toward the sideline. The receiver caught it, stepped out.

Thirty-four seconds.

Stanton's defense looked exhausted. Their linemen were slow getting into position. A linebacker bent over with his hands on his knees, then forced himself upright as the quarterback called the next play.

Mark’s eyes didn’t leave the clock.

Twenty-eight seconds.

Thomasville snapped the ball. Their quarterback dropped back, looked right, and threw left. The receiver caught it in a pocket between two defenders and was tackled at the Stanton twenty-two.

Both teams ran to reset, as the clock continued to move.

“22 … 21 … 20 … 19 …“

Hometown and visitors both screamed as Thomasville rushed to the line for one last play.

Their quarterback stood in the shotgun, scanning the defense. Stanton crowded the line.

Mark watched as the quarterback looked left then threw right, as a receiver broke free behind the Stanton cornerback.

He’d been in a similar position a week ago. The ball arced high into the air as the cornerback raced to recover and jumped. The receiver jumped too, stealing the ball in mid-flight with both feet in the endzone.

The visiting stands erupted.

Mark didn't move. He couldn’t move.

Thomasville's players poured onto the field, shouting and slapping each other’s backs.

The loud man spoke in a soft voice. “Hell of a way to lose it.”

His companion didn’t say a word.

Several Stanton's players lay on the ground. Others doubled over in grief. Jeffrey had taken his helmet off and held it against his side.

Alice's eyes filled with tears as she ran down the stairs to find Aden. Yolanda had her arm around Lainey while Gwen looked furious. Emily sat motionless beside Mark, her hand resting on Mark's clenched fingers.

“You okay?”

Mark didn’t hear her. All he could see was Jeffrey standing near the sideline, his arms tight around Gina’s body.

Mark stood without saying a word.

‘Under the bleachers. After the game. I’ll be waiting.’

“I’ve got to meet someone.”

“You should wait until the crowd clears.” Emily said softly. “It will be easier for Bridget to keep an eye on you.”

Mark looked out on the field. “I need to take a walk. I need to clear my head.”

Emily said. “I'll come with you.”

Mark tried to smile. “I need to be alone.”

Emily didn't say a word.

Mark made his way down the steps of the bleachers, sneaking along the railing until he came to the far end of the football field, on the opposite side of the entrance to a place the stadium lights didn’t reach.

He watched in the darkness as players from Stanton took a knee in front of Coach Denny, all of them surrounded by parents, friends, and girlfriends.

A voice called from the darkness. "You look different."

Mark couldn’t see the person speaking but waved towards the sound of the voice. "Heya, Bella."

Bella waved back. "Heya." She held a small device to her lips before exhaling a large vape cloud and pointing, "People in this town take football too seriously.” She laughed. “Even the guys are crying."

“It’s not funny.” Mark answered, his voice a full octave higher than he’d meant.

“Sorry.” Bella shrugged. “I forgot you’re friends with the quarterback."

Mark asked, "Why come to the game if you don’t like football?"

Bella pointed at the sidelines. "And miss that?"

Mark could see the cheerleaders standing in their own circle. Even from a distance Mark could see their faces wet with tears. Jeffrey stood nearby with Gina still pulling him in a tight hug. Next to him, Aden and Alice were doing the same thing. “We lost the championship."

Bella said, "It’s only a game."

Mark felt his temper go. "It’s not a game. People on the field worked half their lives for this moment, only to fall short."

Bella said, "That makes it even funnier."

“Screw you, Bella.” Mark exclaimed. “You don’t know what it means to be part of something bigger than yourself.” On the field, several parents seemed to be shouting at Coach Denny. Mark stared at Jeffrey whose eyes seemed to be glistening too.

Kaya said, "Those boots kick ass."

Mark looked down, he’d totally forgotten what he had on. "I need to go."

"We could hang out if you want." Kaya called out, sounding disappointed.

"I can't." Mark said, turning around, walking backward as he spoke, "I’m supposed to meet someone under the bleachers.”

The two girls smiled. Everyone at school knew what that meant.

A look to the field showed Jeffrey and Gina had disappeared. No doubt Jeffrey and the rest of the team had joined Coach Denny in the locker room. Mark could use one of the man’s inspiring speeches right now. Mark smiled at the thought:

You’ve lost your manhood, Lansing, and you’ve grown a massive rack. You’ve turned into a girl and you’ll need to muster every ounce of strength to win, but I know you can do it. Now get out there and kick some witch butt.

Mark smiled to himself. Perhaps it was best not to think about what Coach Denny might say.

He looked out to the field. Only a few people stood there now. People like Bella and Kaya could never understand what it meant to be a part of a team.

And now the game was over. Even if he were able to change back, that part of his life was gone forever.

Mark gripped the bleacher’s railing, looking both ways before ducking underneath.

Mark didn’t remember the first time he’d heard someone use the term ‘under the bleachers’. Stories from other students made it sound like a magical land of drugs and sex.

The reality looked a lot more grim.

Bottles and wrappers covered the ground. The smell of old smoke hung in the air. He thought about using his phone’s light, then decided it would only draw attention from the people who still remained. He tightened his grip on his purse and went deeper, past the sounds of couples in the dark and the occasional flick of a lighter, until he reached the halfway point.

Mark felt the presence before he saw it. A cold chill loomed as it grew closer though Mark breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the person’s face and the item they carried in their right hand.

Vice Principal Ryan raised the pink stick high into the air, and its tip flashed white, bathing the entire scene in light, then froze every person in the vicinity.

Miss Ryan smiled. “Expecting someone else, Mark?”

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