parents appeared relaxed, the boys less so. Nolan could see why from the minute they walked in.
Upwards of twenty boys had showed up, and there might be a few more whose parents couldn’t make it tonight, or who would decide later to try out for the team. And these were only the freshmen or sophomores taking a first shot at the team. It didn’t count the returning varsity or junior varsity players.
In other words, likely not every kid here tonight would make the team. Which resulted in the boys all eyeing each other sidelong in silent appraisal. The parents were probably all doing the same, if more subtly. Nobody wanted to think, My boy won’t make the cut.
Nolan was amused to find himself as anxious as any other parent. He didn’t have to worry, he decided; if nothing else, Sean was the tallest boy here. Given another year, he’d pass Nolan in height, and showed promise of indeed being tall enough to lead the West Fork team as forward or even center by the time he was a junior or senior. The other boys here all had that same gawky way of moving, too, so that wasn’t a hindrance.
The coach was encouraging and discouraging by turn. He made clear that he expected complete dedication to the sport once the season opened. No smoking, no drinking, no drugs, no missed practices unless they were mighty sick. No fights, minimum C-average. If a boy violated any of the restrictions, he was off the team, no recourse. He looked from one face to the next to be sure every boy here was taking him seriously. Then he talked to the parents about their share of the commitment, and checked to be sure they were listening, too.
Tryouts were mid-October, practice started late in October, except for the boys who were also playing football and who had to juggle practices.
“I make a practice of urging students not to try to play both sports,” he told them. “You can’t give the same level of commitment or performance if you are. We allow it, though, especially at the JV level. It’s one way to find your sport.”
He was frank that some of the boys wouldn’t make it. “All of you,” he said, “will put on height or muscle or speed or just determination over the next year, so if you don’t make it this year, try again.”
When the meeting broke up, he went around shaking hands and talking to as many boys and their parents as possible.
“Glad to see you’ve decided to try out,” he said, assessing Sean. “I had my eye on you and planned to talk to you these next few weeks if you didn’t show up tonight.”
“Really?” Sean’s voice squeaked, which brought mortified color to his face.
“You look like a basketball player to me.” The coach nodded and moved on.
“Because he thinks I’m going to be tall,” Sean burst out, once he and Nolan were crossing the sodium-lamp-lit parking lot.
“I think it might be more than that. You’re going to be a good athlete.”
Sean didn’t say anything else until they were closed in the pickup. “You really think so?” he asked then.
“I do.” Nolan turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. “Let’s plan to get that hoop up this weekend.”
He’d ordered one online and expected it to arrive before the end of the week. He sometimes had to remind himself to involve Sean in his everyday repairs and projects, but because he persisted he could already see an improvement in his foster son’s competency and confidence.
Too bad he wasn’t as enthusiastic about cooking, despite his vast appetite, Nolan thought drily.
“Are you going out this week?” Sean asked, ultra-casually.
Nolan cast him a glance. “Don’t know.”
They got nearly home before Sean cleared his throat. “I guess Allie is mad at me.”
Nolan tried to read the tone. Shame? Repentance? Secret glee?
“I think she understood,” he said noncommittally.
“Is she mad at you?” the boy asked, in a smaller voice.
Was this one definitely contrite, or hopeful?
Nolan put on the turn signal even though there was no other traffic this time of night on the country road. “I guess she was,” he agreed.
“Oh.”
They pulled up front of the house. Nolan locked the pickup and started for the house, Sean trailing him. Nolan stopped and waited; whenever the boy lagged behind that way, Nolan always pictured him with his last foster dad.
They walked the last few feet side by side, but Sean balked at the foot