Quarterback - by Robbi Holman

Tommy kneeled at his bed, eyes clenched shut, hands folded in front of him.

Our Father, Who art in heaven,
Hallowed be Thy Name.
Thy Kingdom come.
Thy Will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil. Amen. 

P.S.  Please let Kevin get hurt so I can play quarterback this season instead of linebacker.  I hate playing linebacker!

“TOMMY!”

He looked up in horror at his mother, who stared at him in equal horror at his terrible prayer.

“You’re not supposed to listen in on my prayers! It’s private!”

“Wishing ill upon a friend, Tommy! Coveting his position! You’ll confess this to Father Paul on Saturday. And no cartoons for you for the next month!”

Tommy ducked his head in apparent shame. 

“Yes, mother. I’m sorry.”

She walked over to the bed as he climbed in and kissed him on the head while tucking him in.

“No more talk like that, Tommy. Prayers are for thanking Almighty God for the bounty He has given us. Not for asking Him for selfish favors that harm other people.”

“Yes, mother.”

He waited until his bedroom door had closed and he was sure she was gone.

I really hate playing linebacker, he muttered to himself.

“Do you?”

The voice was a gravelly whisper that gave him the chills. Still, though, he was intrigued.

“Yes,” he whispered back.

“Do you want to be a great quarterback?”

“Yes,” he whispered again.

“Do you want to be the greatest quarterback of all time?”

Tommy hesitated now.

“Who… who are you?”

“I am a friend who heard your prayer. Call me Sebastian. Do you want to be the greatest quarterback of all time?”

“What would I have to give you in return?”

“Nothing much. A trinket of sorts. Just write your name on a small scrap of paper.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

Tommy wrote his name down on a scrap of paper. He held it out; the voice was coming from a dark shadow that, try as he might, he couldn’t quite make out. He expected a hand to reach out and take the paper. Instead, it sparked and caught fire, disintegrating into thin air.

“What do I have to do?”

“Look on your bedside table.”

Tommy looked. There was a small, generic cloth doll on the table, and next to it was a needle.

“Concentrate on the doll and imagine the doll is Kevin. If you want Kevin to be injured, just use the needle on the doll to indicate where you want him to hurt.”

“I don’t want him to hurt, I just want him to not be able to play quarterback.”

Even through the shadows he could see Sebastian shrug.

“Whatever you say, kid.” 

“Thank—”

Sebastian was gone.

**************************************

“Tommy. Jimmy broke his toe. I want you to start practicing your throwing and I’ll talk to your dad about sending you to quarterback camp at the college.”

Tommy froze. He’d touched the doll’s foot with the needle the night before.

“Tommy? You in there? Did you hear what I said about quarterback camp?”

“Oh. Yes. That sounds great, coach. I’ll start working on my throwing with my dad tonight.”

**************************************

“Tommy! You left your gym bag behind.” Jeff trotted over to Tommy and handed him the bag as they walked out of the locker room.

“Oh, thanks.”

“You think you made varsity?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Guess we’ll find out tomorrow. Is that a doll in your bag?”

Tommy glanced down at his bag to see the cloth doll’s leg sticking out.

“Oh. Yeah. It’s a lucky charm I’ve had since I was a kid.”

**************************************

“Back up quarterback. Junior Varsity. Tough luck, Tommy. Guess your good luck charm didn’t work out,” Jeff said, patting Tommy on the shoulder.

Tommy faked a laugh and said, “Yeah  I should probably get rid of it.”

Two years later he stared at the doll.

Every week it’s the same thing.  Standing on the sidelines.

He imagined the doll was Jonathan. 

And poked it with the needle.

**************************************

“Tommy. Jonathan just tore his knee up. You’re in.”

**************************************

“Tom! Drew can’t breathe, he’s going in the ambulance. You’re in.”

Tom smirked and sprinted into the huddle. 

**************************************

Tom kneeled at his bed, eyes clenched shut, hands folded in front of him.

Our Father, Who art in heaven,
Hallowed be Thy Name.
Thy Kingdom come.
Thy Will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil. Amen.

P.S.  One more super bowl. One more super bowl. One more super bowl. To show them all. Linebacker. Back up junior varsity. Seventh in line at university. Back up to Drew. I will have my revenge on all of them.

No one knew that he still prayed. Not even his wife. She thought he was in their bedroom meditating.

“You’ve done well, Tom.”         

The gravelly voice still gave him chills, even after all these years.

“Thank you for all that you’ve helped me achieve.”

“But now you ask for more.”

“Just one more ring.”

“One more ring. One more ring. I think that requires a higher payment. Perhaps the names of your children, written on a piece of paper?”

Tom shuddered. And wrote their names down on slips of paper.