"I know we're outside, but it's so loud!" Mom cupped her palms around her ears and grinned at the craziness that surrounded us. "Crazy!"

My parents only visited me twice a year at UW, when I moved in each fall and a spring quarter trip, so I'd never brought them to a football game. Once we sat in my usual mid-field, first-row seats, I texted Charlie we were here. She greeted them quickly with hugs from the other side of the railing then scooted back to where one of the very large defensive linemen rode out a tight hamstring on a sideline bike.

Under a dark, gray, early evening sky, Husky Stadium was beyond electric tonight. Like the ESPN College Day video crew, Husky Nation showed up early, loud, and proud this morning. Tailgaters started their breakfasts in the parking lot and Lake Washington boats, nearly every seat was full but everyone stood up before the teams came out for warmups, and I practically tasted the anticipated excitement on the tip of my tongue.

The Husky Band played the national anthem and their rendition of USC's school song. Normally I just cheered for UW during the team's field entrance, but tonight I cringed from the boos and personal insults flung out at my brother.

For a distraction, my eyes drifted around the shoulder-to-shoulder filled stadium and caught an abnormally large number of fan signs in the stadium. I vaguely remembered during dinner last night that Logan had mentioned the topic of game signs was brought up during his weekly Monday call-in interview at Seattle Sports Radio 950 KJR. The sports announcer challenged Husky fans to bring their best insults on signs for ESPN's national coverage of the game and by the increased number of them, plenty had gotten the message.

Apparently the game's film crew panned through a few options and lit up the pregame video screen with them. My lips twitched at the first few signs, which were generic enough USC insults.

"My IUD is more effective than any Trojan," Mom read off and giggled at one that sounded like Harper had written it.

"If only people put in that brain power for studying," Dad gruffed quietly on the other side of me. When he caught my side-eyed glance, he nodded up at the screen. "They'll be personal against Jake next."

Dad was exactly right and 'Jake Harrison pays for Tinder' and 'Jake Harrison wears Mom jeans' graced our eyes next. A snort slipped out of my mouth at those two signs since they paled in comparison to any insult Harper had thrown at him.

A blonde-haired girl in a cropped Husky jersey, her bare stomach and ribs exposed as her arms lifted a sign overhead showed on the screen next. Once I read her 'Jake you can score between my uprights' sign, my smile faded and eyes slid closed for a moment.

Lovely. And I'm sitting here with our parents.

"Oh gawd." One of my hands slapped onto my forehead once the signs shifted to some that included, of all people, me.

"When your own sister picks against your team... Even Ellie Harrison likes LT more... " My hands clamped over my eyes as Mom murmured out a few more embarrassing taunts. The associated cutouts of my face next to the words looked anything but flattering.

"Tell me when those are over," I moaned quietly and squeezed my arms tight.

After a few more crowd laughs, a warm hand patted my right thigh gently. Mom's comforting words hit my right ear, "You're in the clear, Ellie."

After USC won the coin toss, my heart thumped loudly at the quick bro-embrace between Jake and Logan before they trotted back to their respective sidelines. UW's kicker sent the opening kickoff far past the endzone and Jake led his offensive team onto the field under a rainfall of boos.

"Here we go," Dad muttered, leaned forwards, and clasped his hands in prayer. "Silence 'em, Jake."

"Dad." I frowned at him since, their USC jerseys in the very first row at the center of the field already drew enough attention to us.

With the efficiency of a regular, well-timed machine, Jake marched the Trojans down the field, yardage chunk by chunk. They chipped away at the turf and stadium's patience, where each down seemed like a hard fought victory from how much they shoved their way forwards.

USC pushed forward in a slow, methodical pace under groans and gritted teeth from the Husky fans with each new set of downs USC earned. Mom's face paled one shade lighter with each ten yards they gained but she fixated a tight smile on her lips and her eyes never left Jake's frame on the field.

Three minutes into the game, the Huskies finally got a big defensive stop against USC's runningback, where they grabbed him at the line of scrimmage, pushed him back three steps, and tackled him to the ground to thunderous roars from the crowd. After a frustrated rip off of his chin strap, Jake trotted off with the rest of the offense while USC's special team players came out for a forty-two yard field goal attempt.

USC's kicker raised one arm, took a lined up approach, and punted the ball with a thwacked contact. The stadium fell silent and everyone tracked the ball's high, fast, and arched trajectory straight towards the goal post. My breath stalled in my lungs as we all stood frozen and watched.

In most likely a stroke of good luck, the ball's path angled enough that it bounced against the left goal post, then fell straight to the ground. After a split second reality absorption, the entire stadium exploded into jubilation at the missed field goal attempt.

Well, almost the entire stadium.

"Damn Drake," Dad muttered under his breath. "Couldn't hit the broad side of a barn."

"Unlucky bounce, Dale." Mom reached behind my shoulders and patted Dad's back lightly.

"He hadn't missed any kicks all year," was all he grumbled.

Enthusiastic applause greeted Logan's first offensive attempt from the Huskies' twenty yard line. He lined up the offensive team in two straight lines like a T and stood right behind Zander the center where the two lines met in what looked like a running play.

"Cover six, the hell are they doing," Dad muttered with a slight head shake when USC's defense shifted a few players. Although I had no idea what he meant, by the frown that creased his forehead, Dad hadn't liked how USC was set up.

After a quick snap, Logan dropped back a few steps, then pitched the ball on a far enough pass to Wes for the ten-yard first down, but Wes took the catch much, much further. Once he dodged around his initial defender, his legs pumped into overdrive across a very open area of the field in front of him.

Wes took that field and he ran ten, twenty, thirty, fifty... eight yards and scored.

"Well shit..." Dad cursed and leaned slightly back in his seat. With a slight head shake as the Husky fans burst into pure, energized jubilation, he glanced sideways at me because I'd also jumped up and screamed like an idiot.

With a slight twist of his mouth sideways, he admitted, "Logan's gotten better, Ellie but that was a cocky-ass first statement right there."

"He's amazing." I beamed down at the field and watched as number ten was mauled by his teammates as they celebrated the Huskies' opening scoring drive. "Jake looks good too though, here's another chance."

After Wes started off the scoring 6-0 Huskies, after their extra point and subsequent kickoff were kicked, USC marched right back. Jake opened up his passing game with crisp, clean spirals on point and spread throughout the field. In a faster, more urgent pace, they tied up the score 7-7 on a rushed in touchdown from Jake himself with half of the first quarter left on the game clock.

With an equally cool, calm demeanor, Logan took over on offense and did what he did best. Play after play, they picked up short yard passes at a comfortable, almost relaxed pace. He made his adjustments, set his team up, and delivered over and over. The fans, hungry for more points, grew their cheers louder as momentum carried UW down the field until they scored again.

Back and forth both teams went, like a football version of a tennis match, until UW was up 21-14 by the end of the first half. My heart thumped wildly in my chest, the nerve endings in my brain felt frayed, the entire first half and I took what felt like my first relaxed breath when the teams retreated to their respective locker rooms.

"Halftime," I groaned, stood up, and stretched my arms overhead. "Want to go for a walk?"

"Bathrooms first, please. And walking around only if you think we won't get harassed." Mom stood up next to me and sent me an uneasy smile. "We were less than welcome at the UCLA game last weekend."

"That's UCLA." My lips flinched as I remembered how those two schools hated each other with the same level of animosity between Jake and Harper. "Husky fans are a lot more hospitable... well, unless it's Washington State."

"Fine. Bathroom break, then walk and talk," her voice carried up behind me while we stepped up the concrete stairs to the first concourse level.

An obscenely long line for the women's room left Dad with more free time than us girls and diminished the idea that we walked around much during halftime. So while Mom and I held our bladders and chatted about our first-half recap, Dad visited the Husky Team Store. I assumed he'd gotten a few dirty looks while his USC jersey weaved around the racks and shelves of Husky merchandise, but he actually came out with a long, white rolled up cylinder that poked out of a bag like he'd purchased something.

"You bought a poster?" My eyebrows lifted as a smile actually crossed over his face and he nodded.

While Mom and I inched slightly closer to bladder relief, he unrolled the poster and showed it to us. My lips parted at the photographed faceoff pictures of Logan against Jake, with their teams' respective 4-0 starts listed with the opponents, game scores, and the year.

"Think they'll sign it and let me put it on eBay?" he joked and rolled it back up.

"Sign yes, sell no." Mom's dark-haired head shook a few times. "We should frame it and put it in the den."

"Like there's any wall space left," I joked about the insane amount of Santa-Cruz and now USC paraphernalia they'd collected from Jake's games.

In their basement, Mom and Dad had enough football stuff displayed for their own sports bar - pictures, glassware, game balls, jerseys, Mom even framed all their tickets from every game. Despite how Dad had obviously bought the poster for Jake, my heart warmed at the idea Logan joined the Jake Harrison shrine.

Unless Dad folds it in half and only shows Jake. He wouldn't do that though... Would he?

"I'll make room. Meet you back at the seats." With that, Dad turned and walked back in the direction we'd come from.

Once I assumed Dad was out of earshot, I turned and directly faced Mom. My chest lifted once and I puffed out my cheeks on the exhale. "I really need to talk to you guys while you're here."

"We have talked, right?" Confusion dotted Mom's dark brown eyes as they studied mine. "If this is about your living situation -"

"Not just that, it's... you know," I replied in a low enough tone only she'd heard me but a hardened stare that hopefully conveyed what we needed discussed was more important than the unreasonable stick up Dad's butt over my roommate.

After a few questionable eyebrow-raised, forehead-leaned forward facial contortions that conveyed 'Ryder Stevens,' her lips rounded and she silently mouthed, 'Oh.' One of Mom's hands swept a few pieces of my long, straight hair over my shoulder. "Dad and I can't believe you did that interview, exposed yourself, Ellie -"

"Oh fuck me, are you Ellie Harrison!?" The blonde head in front of us whirled around. I attempted my best statue impersonation when I realized that, of all seventy-eight thousand people here, Jake's sign solicitor from the pregame video stood in front of us for the bathroom line.

And I still see her stomach. How is she not cold?

Her slightly glassy eyes, flushed cheeks, and slight scent of beer on her breath answered my own question.

"I... am," I gritted out to my entire being's dismay as her blue eyes lit up. Before any further words left her mouth, I titled my head at Mom. "And this our Mom, so..."

My voice trailed off and I left the 'so don't say anything gross about Jake' unsaid but thankfully she just squealed, snapped a quick selfie of all of us where Mom and I probably had our eyes half-closed, then flashed a pouty lower lip at Mom while she typed at her phone.

What is that photo caption, Jake Harrison's family pees too?

I nearly got a cavity from the amount of sweetness she pumped into her voice and choked back a gage when she introduced herself with, "I'm Teagan. Mrs. Harrison, your son is gorgeous. Could I meet -"

"Next!" An irritated and much-welcomed voice chirped out from behind us. I glanced behind and threw a smile over my shoulder at the older woman who shifted her weight from one foot to the other and frowned at Teagan. "Before I piss myself!"

Thankfully, Teagan got the message and rushed into the available stall. Even more thankfully, three more opened up. Mom must've had the same idea as me because she stayed in hers while I took my dear, sweetass time, hovered over the toilet, foot-flushed, then pretended the bathroom graffiti was the most interesting work of literature I'd ever read. After a few minutes and visual inspection through the door crack at the hinges that Teagan had departed, I left the stall and met Mom at the sink.

"Always one at every game," she muttered with a slight head shake. We washed and dried our hands, but before I assured Mom I couldn't have cared less, she added, "Sometimes I wish he'd just settle with one girl..."

I met her wistful gaze reflected in the wall-length sink mirror. "Who's going to put up with his ego?"

"I'm sure the right strong-willed, independent, quick-witted girl is out there somewhere." A soft sigh left her lips while we exited the bathroom and walked back to our seats. "A mother can dream at least."

The memory of Jake and Harper's brief... whatever exchange they'd shared last week resurfaced in my mind.

I know of one candidate fit for the position but her head's stuck up too far lost in her own state of denial.

"Back to you though, Sweetie." Mom's voice shifted with her collapsed smile. An unreadable emotion filled her eyes while she side-glanced down at me from the corner of her eye. "We'll talk tonight but somewhere more private, like during dinner. All this unsettled stress isn't good for any of us, especially your father."

My lips rolled inward and I bit down hard on the lower one. I was fully aware that relationships took effort from both sides and accepted the disconnect on my part but her words sparked an ember of anger in me. Tension knotted across my shoulders and I balled my hands into fists at my sides.

Not good for him? Him!? He's ninety-five percent of the problem!

Mom can pack up that guilt trip and return home with it if that's what she has to say.

Five minutes of tense, awkwardly silent steps later, Mom placed one hand on my shoulder. "We do really want what's best for you Ellie, what makes you happy."

"Good." My head bobbed a few times but a dry taste coated my tongue and I swallowed hard. "What's best for me is Logan and I want is all this shit aired out between us."

It's for the best Ellie. Get everything cleared in the air because I'll need Mom and Dad if I have to go to court.

"Language Ellie." Mom spoke so quietly, I barely heard when she added, "I... know Ellie."

A quickly snuck look at Mom showed her smile had returned, which relaxed the nerves that fluttered in my stomach. Without another word, my shoulders relaxed slightly since Mom was on my side. Jake's presence at last week's interview and whatever kindness or alien mind probes had possessed him before the game demonstrated that, in his own weird brotherly way, I also had his support.

But, the million-dollar question is... What about Dad?