make it something it wasn’t.’”
“That sounds like something she would say.”
Alan smiles. “Yeah. Wise beyond her years, that one.”
• • •
Coach is pissed that I was a half hour late to practice again, so he makes me stay late to lug all the equipment back up to the gym by myself.
“Listen, Brooks,” he says, walking casually alongside me as I sweat my ass off, dragging a mesh bag of balls up the hill. “I know things are tough for you at home right now, and I know you’ve had to make some sacrifices, but I need you to know that I’ve got a lot of interest in you from several D-One schools.”
“Several? UCLA is one of them, right?”
“It is. Their recruiter is coming to see you play our third game. I get the impression that if things go well, he’ll be ready to make you an offer that night.”
“Holy shi—I mean, really?”
“Yes. So if you want a real shot at playing in college and potentially going pro, you need to step it up. That means no more being late, no more dragging your feet during drills, no more spacing out on the field and letting goals go by that you should be stopping no problem. Understood?”
I nod, wiping the sweat from my face as we reach the locker room. “Understood, Coach. One hundred percent.”
“Glad to hear it. Don’t let him down. And don’t let me down either.”
“I won’t, I promise.”
“Hit the showers and go get some rest.”
But rest will have to wait. I race across town to Alan’s, then my house, then Whole Foods. I’m seventeen minutes late punching in.
Joni’s stationed at the register across from me. She shakes her head all mock disappointedly and taps her watch.
“Sorry,” I mouth across the aisle.
She smiles and goes right on scanning and packing.
Two hours and countless times of asking “Did you bring your own bags today?” later, Joni turns off her light and comes over to my station.
“Break time?” she asks.
“Yeah, let me finish up here, and I’ll meet you in the break room.”
She shakes her head. “Meet me out front.”
“Why?”
“Don’t worry about it,” she says, skipping off before I can say anything else. I smile. You can’t say Joni doesn’t keep things interesting.
I find her a few minutes later, sitting on the curb outside the exit. I lower myself down next to her—it feels good to sit down—and hand her an aluminum hot/cold bag.
“What’s this?”
“Pizza.” I open my own bag and pull out a slice.
“You’re feeding me?” she asks.
I take a huge pepperoni-filled bite. “You always feed me.”
Joni looks at the bag. “Is it pepperoni? I actually don’t eat meat…”
“I know.” How did I know that? I don’t think she ever told me. Must have figured it out from being around her, I guess. “Yours has broccoli and shit on it.”
“You know, I don’t usually eat shit,” she says, grinning. “But the broccoli part is good. Thanks, Ryden,” she says through a mouthful of veggies and cheese. “That was very…maternal of you.”
I almost choke on my food.
Joni looks at me. “What?”
“Nothing.” I swallow slowly, making sure it goes down the correct pipe this time. “So why did you want to meet out here?”
She points straight ahead, past the trees, to the horizon. “Sunset. Pretty, no?”
I look down at my sneakers. “Yeah.” Pretty, sure, yeah, whatever. Also, say, the number one most clichéd romantic thing in the world.
Joni nudges me with her shoulder. “Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m not hitting on you. I just didn’t want to stay inside all day. We only have so much summer left. We’ll be back at school next week.”
“Yeah. Senior year.”
“Woooo! Seniors! Kings of the school! Paaaaar-tay!” She waves her hands over her head. I know her well enough to know she’s being sarcastic.
I laugh, and she calms down, giving me an eye-rolling grin.
“I found out the recruiter from UCLA is coming to watch me play in a few weeks, and he’s bringing a contract with him.”
“Really? That’s awesome!”
“Yeah. I’ve been working pretty much my whole life for this.”
Joni starts talking about what she thinks she might want to do after high school. I catch the gist of it—she’s still trying to decide between college, traveling the world, or going to work at her family’s doggie day care business. But what I’m thinking about is everything I’m not telling her. I still like the idea of keeping her separate from all the shit. She’s kind of my salvation that way. But I’m