Before Sanders could sit down, the other guys rose, clapping for their teammate. They surrounded him, patting him on the back and hugging him around the neck. The message didn’t need any words. Whatever Sanders and his sister were going through, the team was there for him. By the time Sanders sat down, he was no longer among fellow football players.
He was among brothers.
“Terry Allen … come here please.” One at a time Cody brought up the players and allowed them the chance to explain their situations, a chance to thank their teammates for raising money that might mean they would keep their homes or have a warm place to sleep that winter, money that would keep them in school and give them a chance at college.
When he called up DeMetri, the junior was already crying, his voice too choked to talk right away. The others came close, supporting him, surrounding him. As soon as he could speak, he shook his head. “I’ll find a way to see my mom … I’m not worried. I can work.” He looked at Cody and no words were needed. The message in his eyes was unmistakable. He had a place to live, food to eat. He would be fine. DeMetri looked at Sanders. “I’d like my money to go to your sister. So she has plenty to help her … to help her get better.”
With that, Sanders broke down, and again the guys came together in a huddle that left no spaces, no distance. In the midst of the emotion, Cody put his hand high over the huddle. “Whose way?”
“His way!”
“Whose way?” he yelled.
“His way!” The room shook with the love of a group of teenage guys who had never cared more. Guys who understood only God could’ve brought them to this point.
Cody stepped back and stood beside his assistant coaches. All of them had tears in their eyes too. The plan had worked. God had met them here at Butler University, and not only had they raised money for the hurting among them, but He had answered Cody’s prayers that these boys might become a team. They would go home caring deeply for each other, aware of their struggles individually and as a whole, tight enough to take on any opponent. They had come here a group of individuals, each one concerned only for himself. But as they headed home that Saturday morning, the bigger miracle was that Lyle High’s football players had become more than a team.
They had become a family.
Nineteen
THE MEMORIAL FOR CHRISSY STONELAKE WAS HELD THE MORNing of Friday, July fifteenth, a week after her death. For Bailey it was one of the saddest moments in her life. Chrissy’s mom and dad flew in from Montana, collected her ashes, and hurried home without talking to Francesca or the cast, so they weren’t there. From what Bailey had heard, Chrissy’s parents had never wanted her to perform on Broadway. They’d seen her health decline, and they guessed she was taking pills.
But they had been helpless to intervene, counting on the people around her to reach her — something that never happened.
Every member of the cast was in attendance that morning, gathered in the drafty J. Markham Theater to sing a few songs and remember the girl who had danced among them … the girl who had died among them. Bailey sat in the back row, isolating herself from the others. The cast wasn’t to blame this time. Since Chrissy’s death, the dancers she worked with seemed kinder — even toward her. But that didn’t change Bailey’s responsibility in the matter, the way she held herself accountable for her friend’s death.
Bailey had talked to her mom about Chrissy every day since she died. Her mom was adamant — Chrissy’s loss wasn’t Bailey’s fault. Still, Bailey couldn’t get around the obvious truth. She had been in a position to help, but she’d kept to herself. Even when she felt the Lord talking to her, telling her to step in and pray or share a Bible verse, Bailey had done nothing.
Now she held a single folded sheet of paper with Chrissy’s picture and her name. Her first and last name — neither of which Bailey would ever forget. She watched quietly, tears on her cheeks as one cast member after another took the stage and shared about Chrissy. Like before, Bailey could hear the Lord speaking, feel Him prodding her into action: