“Hey, it’s Andy!” Shouts rose from the football players as Cordelia stumbled out of the locker room, decked out in Andy’s football gear, and hobbled onto the field.

“Told you my boy wouldn’t let us down,” Brad said, grabbing the helmet of the guy next to him and yanking his head down. “Maybe now you’ll take back those things you said.”

“Whatever,” the guy muttered, shoving Brad.

“Cool it, Keith,” the bearded coach grunted. “You boys start one more fight and you’ll be on water and towel duty for the rest of the season.” Then he looked over to ‘Andy’, squinting in the distant sun, and waved him over.

“Since when did his chest get so big?” the coach whispered to the team. They all just shrugged and mumbled something.

“My boy’s been working out!” Brad said proudly.

“Cori,” Andy whispered in her ear, “hide your hair!”

“Oops,” she said under her breath, stopping on the field and lowering her head as she tried to push her hair into the helmet. The entire football team, including the coach and the few people watching from the bleaches, just stared at her as she scratched at her helmet and did a little dance in place.

The coach took off his hat, revealing his gray hair. “What the hell? Does he have fleas?”

“I think your boy has some screw loose,” Keith said, elbowing Brad.

Cordelia fell to the ground and began kicking her feet in the mud as she pushed the last strand of strawberry-blonde hair into the helmet. Then she pulled herself up and dusted off her now dirty uniform.

“Real men don’t brush off their uniform when it gets dirty,” Andy said into her ear, brushing the strands of hair from Cordelia that were swathing over him like overgrown weeds now. Her hair had filled all the empty spaces in the helmet and, unfortunately for him, the hair fibers seemed to like sticking to the tape that glued him to the helmet, making him itch in all sorts of unpleasant places.

“Excuse me if I want to be tidy,” she hissed back.

“What the hell is he doing now!?” the coach bellowed.

“I think he got a little dirt on his dress,” Keith joked. “Hey, Andy! Did you remember to wear your panties too?”

Andy smacked his forehead. “My reputation is ruined.”

“Not as much as it’s about to be,” Cordelia grinned, frolicking over to the coach and teammates while tossing imaginary flowers out behind her.

Blood rushing to his already-red face, the coach slapped his hat onto his head and jerked the brim down over the bulging veins in his forehead. “ANDY! This isn’t ballet! Get out of your tutus and get your ass over here before I kick you off this team!”

“Can I be quarterback?” Keith asked.

“If you make him quarterback, I’m leaving the team,” Brad said. Some of the others grumbled an agreement.

“I’m not making him quarterback!” the coach roared.

“Oh, right,” Keith muttered. “We have fairy boy as a quarterback.”

Cordelia had, by this time, pranced her way over to the coach and the rest of the team. They just stared at her and she began to sweat, hoping they wouldn’t recognize her as a girl. Andy got the worst of it, though, as the sweat from Cordelia seemed to stick to the helmet and to him. He gagged.

“I knew you’d make it, man,” Brad grinned at Cordelia, raising his hand.

“What’s he trying to do?” Cordelia whispered to Andy. “Pretending he’s an Indian?” She raised her hand and said, in a deep, guttural voice. “How.”

Brad just stared at her, his arm dangling in the air. He blinked. Somebody on the team coughed.

“He wants a high-five,” Andy whispered.

“Oh.” Cordelia stepped closer to Brad, so their chests were touching, but she still couldn’t reach the top of his hand. She began hopping in place, much to the awkward stares she received from everybody around her.

“You okay, man?” Brad said, raising an eyebrow under his helmet. “And why is your skin so…white and smooth? Did you shave?”

“He asked me to speak,” Cordelia hissed into her helmet.

“Then speak!” Andy yelled back.

Cordelia cleared her throat and glanced nervously around. “Okay, I can do this… Think manly. Think stupid. Think ignorant and rude.” Then she stepped back and pounded her chest, letting out a deep lion roar. “Me no shave! Me a man! We play football now!”

“Oh, that was great,” Andy sighed. “I’m moving to Canada.”

But the rest of the team seemed to like it. They cheered, which got rid of some of the discomfort Cordelia was feeling, but Brad and Keith were still staring at her.

“Your voice is different,” Brad murmured.

“New tradition!” Cordelia howled in another guttural voice. “Talk like apes, fight like apes, smash other team like apes!”

“But we’re the Wolves…” Keith started to say, but Cordelia just snarled at him and snapped her teeth. She never liked Keith anyway. He was the epitome of everything she hated, all rolled into one horrible person. How she wished he was the one shrunk and instead of Andy… She flashed her teeth again, at the idea of that, and Keith backed away.

“He’s crazy,” he said.

“Damn crazy!” Brad laughed, smacking Cordelia on the back. She lurched forward and hit the ground. The team laughed, thinking ‘Andy’ was just joking around, like the jester they knew he was, even if the prancing-through-a-flowery-meadow act was a little much for them.

Keith just glared at the body on the ground and began walking away. “Yes, laugh, you simpleminded fools. In time, you’ll all see. I will be quarterback and you’ll all bow before me, your new king. I will carry this team. And during halftime, it will be my name the cheerleaders are spelling in their ecstatic cries. And Cordelia—sweet, sexy Cordelia—the one I could never get, will be forever mine. I will set my behind upon Andy’s throne yet! By the stars, I swear on it.”

The coach blew his whistle into Keith’s eardrum. “I will not have sinister soliloquies interfering with practice time! Give me six laps!”

The team laughed.

“That goes for all of you!”

They weren’t laughing anymore.

“Did you hear what Keith was saying?” Cordelia whispered to Andy, who she luckily hadn’t crushed when she fell.

“He always talks to himself like that.”

“Some people are so strange.”

“Who are you talking to, man?” Brad asked, reaching out a hand to help ‘Andy’ up.

“One more year,” the coach said under his breath as he cupped his hands over his face. “Just one more year before my pension and I never have to see another stupid teenage kid for the rest of my life.” He slowly brought his hands down, stretching the skin of his face. “I need a drink.”

The waterboy quickly appeared at his side with a tray in his hands. “Fresh, bottled, flavored, or sparkling?”