Andrew was having dinner at Luigi's Pizzeria, just a few minutes from Mater Dei Stadium, after the victory against Lakewood in the quarterfinals.
It had been another great night: six touchdowns, a packed stadium, and a 68-yard pass, Andrew's personal record at the school, which had already gone viral on social media.
Now, the atmosphere was warm and familiar, a far cry from the adrenaline and noise of the stadium.
He was sharing dinner with his whole family: his parents, little sister, uncles, cousins, grandparents, including Gloria, and his uncle who, strangely enough, was Manny.
The usual group was there too: Leonard, Howard, and Willa.
And tonight, Brian De Palma, Willa's stepfather, had joined them. Andrew had personally invited him and, after a bit of persuasion, convinced Willa to let him come to the game. It hadn't been difficult, she wasn't as reluctant as Andrew and Brian had first thought.
It was already past eleven. The restaurant was nearly empty, with only a couple of tables occupied. But their table was impossible to ignore, laughter, overlapping conversations, and steaming pizzas constantly arriving at the center of the table.
Luigi, the owner, yes, very original name for a pizzeria, was serving them personally. He had given them half off, as always. Over time, it had become a post-game tradition: good food, laughter, half-price meals, and a family-run place that didn't close early.
Luigi gave them the discount partly out of gratitude and partly out of fandom. Since Andrew had become a local media figure, game days had turned into events for his business, he would broadcast the games on the big TV, and dozens of teenagers would come to eat and watch Mater Dei's #19 in action.
That habit filled the restaurant every Friday, bringing in plenty of profit, so offering a half-price discount wasn't a big loss.
As Luigi set down two freshly baked pizzas on the table, he smiled to himself, 'If they knew the star of the game would be dining here later, half of them would've stayed for a picture.'
"Luigi! I need an expert opinion!" exclaimed Howard, banging on the table theatrically.
Several heads turned. Howard looked at Willa with mock outrage, then pointed toward the restaurant owner.
"What's going on, mio amico?" asked Luigi, raising an eyebrow and wiping his hands on his apron.
"What's your opinion on pineapple pizza?" shot Howard, as if accusing someone of a serious crime.
Luigi glanced sideways at Willa, who was happily chewing a slice of Hawaiian pizza. It wasn't the first time he'd heard this debate in his restaurant. To stay neutral, he replied diplomatically, "I have no particular opinion, it's just another kind of pizza."
Howard stared at him, stunned. He had expected a strong condemnation, an Italian alliance against tropical fruit.
"See?" said Willa with a smile. "It's not a big deal. It just has pineapple. Get over it, people like it."
Howard clicked his tongue, unwilling to surrender. He turned back to Luigi with a conspiratorial look. "Come on, Luigi. Between us. Speak freely."
"it's Canadian, right?" added Howard.
Luigi nodded with a grimace.
"That alone clashes with Italian pizza, an astronomical blasphemy," Howard declared, satisfied as Luigi's expression grew less than pleased at the mention of that pizza.
"It's not that bad!" Gloria interjected enthusiastically. "I love it, it's sweet, salty, juicy…"
Willa laughed and nodded, happy to have an ally.
Luigi sighed, resigned. "Exactly, lady… everything a pizza shouldn't be."
Howard threw his arms up like he'd just scored a touchdown. "There you have it! The expert's opinion!" he said triumphantly, looking at Willa.
"Then why do you serve it if you don't like it?" protested Gloria, frowning.
Luigi raised his hands in surrender. "Don't look at me like that, non è colpa mia, people ask for it," he said before returning to the kitchen.
Being a practical businessman living in California, where exotic tastes were common, Luigi kept it on the menu without much fuss, though with some professional disdain.
"Discussion over: pineapple pizza sucks," declared Howard, taking a victorious bite of his pepperoni slice.
"Discussion over? I don't think so, sir," replied Willa, frowning and leaning on the table.
"What's left to discuss? The expert has spoken," said Howard, shrugging, as if he'd just closed a historic debate.
"I don't care what the expert says," Willa insisted. "So far, it's two in favor and two against," she pointed out, glancing at Gloria, who eagerly raised her hand.
Howard smiled calmly, confident. "Alright… this'll be an easy win," he said, turning toward his next target. "Leonard, do you like it or not?"
Leonard looked at both of them with a mix of boredom and resignation. He couldn't believe a pizza was dividing the table more than politics.
'Why can't they just eat in peace without arguing about whether the pizza's good or bad?' he thought.
He sighed, adjusted his glasses, and replied in a flat tone, "No opinion. Don't drag me into your debates."
"Pussy," muttered Howard under his breath, just loud enough for Leonard to hear.
Leonard looked at him for a second, then said, "Pineapple pizza is great. Best thing I've ever tasted. Three to two in favor of pineapple."
Willa grinned widely, raising a slice as if to toast.
Howard stared at him in disbelief. "That son of a…" he mumbled under his breath.
Howard looked around for reinforcements until his eyes landed on Brian, who was quietly eating, wine glass in hand. "Brian!" he exclaimed. "You can restore order! You've got Italian heritage, right?"
Brian slowly lifted his gaze. Willa was already staring at him with a silent, intimidating look.
Brian noticed it but didn't let it affect him. He swirled his wine glass between his fingers and replied calmly, "I don't like pineapple pizza. I prefer the classics."
Howard raised both arms, exclaiming, "Three to three! Who's next?"
Jay, sitting beside Brian, they'd been chatting about other things, finally spoke up, his deep voice cutting through the table noise. "There's no debate. Mixing pineapple with melted cheese is an abomination in itself."
Gloria looked offended, Willa huffed, and Howard leaned forward with a grin, sensing victory in this democracy. "Three to four!"
Willa clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. Of course the older ones would prefer the traditional stuff. Mixing sweet and savory was far outside their comfort zone.
She turned to Andrew, sitting beside her, calmly eating a slice of pepperoni, seemingly uninterested though listening with a faint smile.
"Andrew, you like pineapple pizza, right?" asked Willa with almost defiant confidence. She knew her best friend wouldn't let her lose to Howard.
Andrew looked up and nodded casually. "Yeah, sure."
Willa crossed her arms and smiled, satisfied. "Four to four," she announced, giving Howard a triumphant look.
"That doesn't count!" Howard protested immediately. "He only said yes to please you. You know… he'd rather see you win than me."
Willa scoffed, grabbed her fork, and cut off a piece of her pizza. "Judge for yourself," she said, holding it out to Andrew.
Andrew opened his mouth without hesitation, as if it were something completely normal between them, and began chewing calmly.
Howard watched, dumbfounded by how natural they were about it.
Andrew swallowed and said, "It's good. Plus, pineapple has its benefits, high in vitamin C, boosts the immune system, and bromelain helps digestion and has anti-inflammatory properties. It's also a good source of fiber and manganese, which is important for bone health."
Everyone at the table who had been following the debate stared at him in surprised silence.
"Manganese? What's that?" Phil murmured, confused.
"Food?" said Luke, who had only been half-listening.
"Technically, it's healthier than pepperoni," Andrew concluded.
Howard sighed. "Alright, alright. I'll count it as a valid vote. Four to four."
Haley, who until that moment had been more interested in her phone than in the debate, looked up. "Obviously," she said with a teasing smile. "Andrew eats anything with protein or health benefits. He doesn't care if pineapple pizza is unnatural."
Howard looked at her, suddenly hopeful, another possible ally. "Who are you voting for?" he asked eagerly.
Haley glanced at Willa for a second. "Sorry, not with you on this one. I don't like pineapple pizza, it's too acidic, and it tastes weird with cheese…"
"Four to five!" counted Howard, smelling victory.
Next up was Alex, who had never tried pineapple pizza before.
Everyone watched in silence as she took a slice, sniffed it cautiously, and took a bite.
She chewed slowly, analyzing it like she was reviewing her notes. "Well, it's not bad. I wouldn't order it every time, but it's not an abomination either," Alex finally said.
Haley muttered, crossing her arms, "You've always liked weird food…"
Five to five.
Next came Manny, who, true to his nature, took the matter with solemnity.
"Hmm… the pineapple is exotic and unexpected. A surprise in the middle of the traditional culinary world. Strange, but delightful," said Manny approvingly, with a satisfied smile.
Six to five.
"In Colombia they eat intestines…" muttered Howard, rolling his eyes. "Of course he likes it."
Then came Claire and Mitchell, both carrying the same traditional judgmental air as their father.
"Sorry, but no," said Claire firmly.
"Definitely not," added Mitchell, nodding.
Six to seven.
Cam, however, grabbed a slice and tasted it with theatrical enthusiasm. "Oh, please! It's delicious. Food is meant to be enjoyed, not to divide the world! I vote yes!" he declared dramatically.
Seven to seven.
Then it was Phil's turn.
He picked up a slice with genuine curiosity, tasted it, and raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Wow! It's good. It's like… a tropical party in your mouth. Sweet, salty, and unexpected, just like Manny said," he commented, glancing at Claire, who was already shaking her head.
"Sweetheart, life needs a little surprise sometimes," added Phil, nudging her playfully.
Eight to seven.
Willa smiled broadly, convinced victory was in the bag.
Howard, on the other hand, began to grow nervous. Everyone turned their eyes to the final vote, Luke.
The boy was distracted, eating his regular pizza and licking sauce off his fingers.
"Luke," said Willa, leaning toward him, "we need your vote. Do you like pineapple pizza?"
Luke looked at her, confused. "Never tried it."
Without hesitation, Willa cut off a piece of her slice and handed it to him. "Try it, you'll like it."
Luke took it reluctantly, bit into it, and his face immediately twisted. He made a strange noise, swallowed out of obligation, and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
"Well?" asked Willa, as everyone watched him.
Luke wrinkled his nose. "No… I don't like it. Tastes gross."
"Eight to eight! A tie!" exclaimed Howard in relief, already taking the matter personally. He had been sure Luke, who usually ate anything remotely edible, would tilt the balance toward pineapple. But luckily, that wasn't the case.
Willa looked at him in annoyance, then turned to Luke, indignant. "Seriously!? You eat things off the floor, the car, the grass… and you can't handle a piece of pineapple with cheese?"
Luke shrugged. "Yeah, but those things don't pretend to be pizza."
Leonard sighed and leaned back in his chair. "So all of this… for nothing. A tie."
"No," Andrew cut in, straightening up with a competitive spark. "It can't end in a tie. There has to be a winner."
Claire, just as competitive as him, nodded immediately. "Exactly. Losers settle for ties."
Howard looked around, confused. "So who do we ask, Luigi's mascot?"
Andrew turned his head and smiled.
"No," he said, pointing to the far end of the table. "Lily."
Everyone followed his gesture.
Leonard raised an eyebrow. "You're seriously going to make a three-year-old try pineapple pizza and give her verdict?"
"Of course," Andrew replied, already cutting a small piece with his fork. "It's time she broadens her palate."
Howard nodded, giving the moment a mock sense of solemnity. "Makes sense. Kids are honest. If they don't like something, you'll see it on their face."
"Exactly," said Andrew, smiling as he moved closer to his little sister.
Willa stood up too, joining him. The two of them looked at the little girl with a shared sense of mischief.
"Lily, this is pineapple pizza," Andrew explained. "We love it."
"Yeah," added Willa sweetly, smiling. "It's delicious, you're going to like it."
Lily looked up at them, her big curious eyes filled with blind trust. She adored her big brother, to her, Andrew was a mix of hero and safe haven.
And Willa… was harder to define, a constant, warm presence in recent days.
So if both of them said it was good, it had to be. She opened her mouth and took a small bite.
A brief, absolute silence fell over the table.
Lily chewed slowly, looked at Andrew, then at Willa, and smiled. "Yummy!" Lily said cheerfully.
Howard slumped back in his chair, exasperated. "They manipulated her!" he protested. "That doesn't count, her brain's been washed with sibling love!"
Willa crossed her arms triumphantly. "Did you see any sign of disgust? A grimace, a gag, anything?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Howard had no comeback. He'd lost.
Dinner went on more peacefully after that, free of culinary debates. Once the pizzas were gone, some ordered light desserts before leaving.
Andrew was scrolling through his phone, a faint frown on his face.
Mitch noticed and asked, "Everything okay, son?"
Andrew looked up, hesitated for a moment, then locked the screen and put the phone away.
"Yeah…" he replied. But seeing that his father was still watching him, he added, "It's Steve. Notre Dame lost to Long Beach Poly."
Steve, one of his best childhood friends, a wide receiver Andrew had trained since they were kids, was talented and funny, but fiercely competitive beneath that easygoing surface. He'd managed to become a starter at Notre Dame, a Division I school in the Serra League with one of the best football programs around.
The group chat he shared with Reggie, Archie, and Kevin had been messaging him to cheer him up, but he hadn't replied.
Andrew understood. Even though in this new life he'd never lost, he had in his first one back in Texas. He knew what it felt like to give everything on the field and still come up short.
And the team that had knocked Notre Dame out, Long Beach Poly, wasn't just any school.
It was a historic powerhouse from Southern California, a public school with a legendary football tradition. The Jackrabbits had produced more NFL players than any other high school in the country. Their program was a factory of speed and talent.
Losing to them wasn't shameful, it was almost a rite of passage. From 2000 to 2009, Long Beach Poly had won four section championships (2000, 2001, 2003, and 2007).
They would become the team with the most titles of the decade once the 2010 season came to an end.
Still, Andrew knew Steve wouldn't comfort himself by saying he'd lost to a great team. He wasn't the type to look for excuses, in that, they were very much alike.
'He must be devastated… I'll go visit him tomorrow,' Andrew thought.
As for the others, the news was mixed.
Kevin, playing for Loyola, had made it to the round of 16 before being eliminated, his team was solid defensively but lacked offensive firepower.
Archie had less luck, his league had been a mess, and adapting to it was tough. They hadn't even made the playoffs.
Reggie, on the other hand, was shining at Alemany, a Division II school on the rise.
Many were already talking about their imminent move to the Mission League and into the Pac-5 elite. His team had reached the semifinals, and he was standing out as the primary running back, showing maturity and power that even surprised his own coaches.
Still, of the four, the one who had most surprised, and made Andrew proudest, was Steve.
The least disciplined of the group, the biggest jokester, had ended up earning the starting spot at Notre Dame, beating out a respected senior receiver as reliable as Victor at Mater Dei.
And he hadn't just taken the spot, he led his team in receptions, yards, and touchdowns.
He was without a doubt showing the best version of himself.
And although none of Andrew's friends could yet compare to his own numbers or media impact, all of them were progressing.
As for Mater Dei's next opponent, it would be Mission Viejo, champions of the Serra League (the same league as Notre Dame) and an elite school led by legendary coach Bob Johnson, with several Division I,recruited prospects.
Mission Viejo had won two consecutive sectional championships in 2004 and 2005. They would be the toughest opponent so far, along with Servite, perhaps even tougher, since this was the semifinal. One loss meant elimination.
In the other semifinal bracket: Long Beach Poly vs. Servite. The latter had managed to recover from their loss against Mater Dei and prove why they were still the reigning section champions.
On top of that, what made the upcoming game against Mission Viejo even more difficult was that Mater Dei would have to play on the road.
Andrew knew it would be the hardest challenge yet, but this wasn't the time to think about that.
The group began to get up from the table. Andrew said goodbye to his family; Jay stayed behind talking with Brian for a few more minutes, while the younger ones headed toward the parking lot.
Willa slipped on her jacket and followed them. "So, everyone's going to the party?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, tonight's social duty," said Andrew.
Though in truth, it wasn't just "social duty." He also had plans with Madison, not something he'd mention out loud, though. He wasn't Howard, bragging wasn't his style.
"You're not coming?" asked Leonard. He already knew none of them were really party types, but one once in a while wouldn't kill them, and it could be fun.
Willa shook her head. "No, not my kind of scene. Besides, it'd be weird. I'm two years older than all of you… and honestly, I'd rather sleep."
"You're missing out, it'll be fun," said Howard, joining the conversation.
"Right, because your definition of fun is a house with blasting music, alcohol, strobe lights, and sweaty guys dancing," Willa said sarcastically.
"I hope you and your sarcasm find love someday," Howard shot back with a mocking grin.
Willa smiled at him with dangerous calm. "Thanks, Howard. And by the way… use condoms with your girlfriend, and don't get caught. I don't want to attend your funeral after her Catholic father kills you."
Andrew, Leonard, and Haley burst out laughing, they all knew Alison's parents were very religious, and Howard was playing with fire since his first time had been at Alison's house.
"Alright, let's go before my mom changes her mind!" said Haley, climbing into her car and waving goodbye to Willa.
Andrew said goodbye to Willa too, a little disappointed she wouldn't join them at the party, but he shook his head internally. 'I won't be there long anyway… he thought.'
The engine roared, and the Camaro drove off.
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