“And Jake will be there.” There’s a smile in her delivery. She’s totally thinking of the revenge possibilities. “But you’re on the team no matter what, right?”
“As far as I know. The quarterbacks coach already signed off on it.”
“That’s insane.”
“Possibly. But I really think it’ll work. Coach Kitt wants to see teamwork. What better way to show that than by being the only girl on a boys’ team that includes her ex?”
“I can’t think of one,” Addie admits.
“Right? I’ve still got to get Dad to sign a waiver, but I can do a pretty mean Eddy Rodinsky John Hancock.”
She snorts. “You said ‘cock.’”
I roll my eyes. “Public school is already ruining me. I’m a social misfit.”
“Admit it, you miss me.”
“I do.” I sigh. I really, really do. I wish Addie were going to be with me at practice tomorrow. “You sure you can’t just show up to Northland to jog laps tomorrow at precisely seven to see this all go down? I need a wingwoman, even if you’re a hundred yards away.”
“I’ll have to clear my schedule, but maybe.”
“I’d love you forever.”
“You already do.”
“True.”
I can hear her car dinging and know she’s about to drive away. I know we need to hang up.
“Okay, lady,” I say. “Drive home. Eat dinner. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
I’m about to hang up when she catches me. “Hey, Rodinsky?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful. Please. With Jake. With getting hit. With all of it. You know what I mean.”
“Don’t worry, McAndry. You know I can take care of myself.”
“I know. That’s what I’m afraid of. I don’t need to bail you out for assault.”
I smile back. “Don’t worry, Cop Dad will do the deed if necessary.”
“Or leave you in there to rot.”
“Or that. Love you.” I hang up the phone, more optimistic than I’ve been since May.
7
“WAIT. YOU WANT ME TO LIE FOR YOU?”
I scrunch my nose as Ryan belts himself into the back seat of my ancient Honda, Helena, like I’m his freaking chauffeur. Which I am, taking the young mister to morning practice. I’m going to pick up Jesse from down the street, too, and it’ll just be ten straight minutes of them giggle-snorting freshman boy secrets like I can’t hear them. “I don’t want you to lie,” I tell him. “I just don’t want you to rat me out.”
“Until when? Until Dad finds your helmet and decapitates you?”
My hands tighten on the steering wheel—all I want to do is survive practice before telling Dad and Mom what I’ve done. “I’m going to tell him. Just not now.”
In the rearview mirror, Ry smirks over the bottle of blue Gatorade he’s got balanced precariously on his knee. “Uh-huh.”
I really will tell Dad and Mom about football. Danielle and Heather, too—I don’t keep stuff from my family. But there’s no point in telling any of them if I can’t hang past the first day.
“Just let me deal with it, please?” I say, frustration creeping into my tone.
I watch his eyes narrow in the rearview mirror. “Fine. But you owe me.”
“I’m already carting your butt around like Jeeves. I think that’s enough.”
Drunk on power and Blue No. 1, my little brother coughs out a laugh. “You were doing that anyway, sis.”
“Don’t push it.”
“You don’t push it,” he shoots back. “You’re the one wanting me to lie for you.”
Ughhhh. “Just don’t say anything, okay?”
He goes quiet. Which is annoying, because I didn’t mean to not say anything now, I just mean to Mom and Dad in general. And he knows that.
“Okay? Ryan, okay?”
“Fine.” He takes another swig of Gatorade so loud I can hear it as I back out of the driveway. I know he’s not done. “I still don’t see how Dad would let you play. He won’t even let me play.”
I do a double take. “Wait, you totally sucked at field goals—but you asked him anyway?”
“I did.” I coast to a stop in front of Jesse’s house. “When you were in the shower last night. It—it did not go well. Even Mom freaked out. So now there’s no backup plan for me once Coach posts the roster Monday.”
Great. If Ellen and Eddy Rodinsky won’t even let their son play the safest position, they most certainly won’t be thrilled about their daughter playing quarterback, even third-string. Softball and soccer aren’t without their chances at a horrific injury, but football is another beast altogether. Anyone who has spent a minute watching a game knows that. Dudes knocked unconscious, spinal cord injuries, knees bent the wrong way—all life-changing injuries. And given the fact that both Ryan and I need to keep our bodies healthy to play other sports well enough to go to college, my parents’ reservations aren’t a surprise.
My eyes go straight to the parental consent form that’s still sticking out, unsigned, in my bag. I’d been half joking when I’d boasted about my signature reproduction skills to Addie, but now I’m not so sure I won’t have to use them.
Jesse gets in the back, bringing with him the smell of dryer sheets and, oddly, strawberry shampoo. “Duuuude, what’s up?”
Ry raises a brow and I catch a wolf’s smile in the rearview mirror. “Liv says she’ll take us to Burger Fu after practice. On her.”
“I would kill for a burger, man.” Jesse’s eyes light up as I pull away from the curb, my brother’s silence apparently purchased with Kobe beef and waffle fries.
“What’s the deal with the red jerseys?” It’s the first thing out of my mouth as Grey comes out of the boys’ locker room and zeros in on where I’m standing off to the side, helmet in hand. I figured I’d pounce on either him or Coach Shanks, whoever I saw first. Coach left my uniform in the girls’ locker room with a note. Ryan’s two fields over, warming up. A quick glance at the track tells me Addie isn’t here yet—all I see are some power-walkers and a mommy boot camp group. No six-foot-two black girls with legs for days.
“Good morning to you, too,” Grey says. It’s 6:59 AM on a nonschool Thursday and yet Grey is still all half smiles, gooey and infectious.
We fall in step and head toward the practice field, just on the outside of a huge throng of giant bodies. One of which probably belongs to Jake, though I haven’t seen him yet. Heck, other than glimpses through the fence, I haven’t seen him since he was in the stands at state, cheering me on. Haven’t talked to him either—the guy broke up with me over text like a real man.
I’ve taken only about five steps, but I can feel dozens of eyes on me with each one. And not in the way I like, when I’m the star on the field and people can’t look away. Nope. This is the kind of attention an outsider gets.
I turn back to Grey. “No, seriously. Is red code for quarterback?”