“Hey, Hunter.”
“Hey.”
Hunter looks like he wants to crawl under the seat. The girl is copper-skinned, dark hair teased into a bun atop her head. She leans her arms on the table with a grin that is at-once shy and mischievous. The epitome of youthful beauty, she’s the type of girl who turns heads at the bat of an eyelash. Her blonde friend, heavyset and dressed in sweatpants and a Mickey Mouse t-shirt, shifts around on her feet like a child who needs to go to the bathroom.
“You must be Hunter’s mom.”
Darcy reaches across the table and shakes the girl’s hand as her mortified son squeezes into the corner.
“Yes, I’m Darcy Gellar.”
“Bethany Torres.”
“So you go to high school with Hunter?”
“Eleventh grade. I sit next to this guy in Economics.”
Bethany gives Hunter a playful punch on the shoulder. The boy’s face takes on a strawberry coloration.
Darcy is content to sit back and let Bethany lead the conversation. The girl bubbles over with personality, yet she’s genuine, not putting on a show. Everything about the girl feels natural to Darcy, from the laughter and unreserved smile to the lack of makeup. There’s something between Hunter and Bethany, though Darcy doubts they are a couple. The banter is pure courtship. Remembering when she met Tyler at college twists her heart into knots, and she needs to look away until the painful memory recedes.
The small-talk concludes when Bethany’s friend checks the time on her phone, a cue for Bethany to wrap it up.
“Okay, so I’ll see you on the field tomorrow, yeah?”
Hunter locks eyes with Darcy, then buries his face in the menu.
“Sure thing. I’ll see you there.”
After the girls leave, Darcy bites her fist to keep from laughing. If she’s ever seen Hunter this flummoxed, she can’t recall.
“I like her a lot.”
“Don’t say anything, Mom.”
“Come on. She’s cute, and she sure seems to like you.”
He grabs a bottle of red pepper and rolls it nervously between his hands.
“We’re just friends.”
“So, Bethany said she’d see you on the field tomorrow. How are you going to pull that off if you’re unwilling to talk to Coach Parker?”
“I’ll think of something.”
“Is she a cheerleader?”
“Last I checked,” he says. Darcy leans her head back and laughs. “What’s so funny?”
“The king of death metal has a crush on a cheerleader.”
“I don’t.”
“Uh-huh.”
The waitress slides the pies in front of them. Hunter’s pizza is pepperoni and extra cheese. Darcy’s is a thin crust marinara with basil and a balsamic drizzle. Neither will finish an entire pie, but Jennifer will appreciate the leftovers.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” Darcy says between bites. She bats her hand in front of her lips to cool the fire burning the roof of her mouth. “Tomorrow I’ll stop by school and talk to Coach Parker. I need to speak with guidance and get Jennifer switched into a different math class anyhow.”
“I don’t know if that’s such a great idea.”
“Give me a chance. If he’s a jerk, I’ll let you retire from football sans press conference.”
Hunter smirks and dabs his crust in a cup of extra sauce.
“Okay, so what’s the deal?”
“I’ll tell Coach Parker what a great but misunderstood kid you are and get you back on the field, and you invite Bethany over for dinner next week.”
“Mom—”
“This isn’t a debate. Parents have the final say.”
Darcy finishes the slice and wipes her hands on a napkin.
“Fine.”
She reaches out, and Hunter hands her the red pepper. As she sprinkles heat across the next slice, she continues.
“And I’ll speak to the coach about what those boys called you.”
Hunter shakes his head and sips his Pepsi.
“Let it go. It’s not worth it, and it’ll only make things worse.”
He’s right. Darcy hasn’t forgotten schoolyard rules. A bully never forgets a snitch.
Any goodwill she’s gained vanishes on the ride home. Hunter escapes inside his music again, and he’s out the door the second Darcy pulls into the driveway.
“Don’t forget your books.”
She sighs, knowing he can’t hear her over the grinding guitars. She grabs his bag and lugs it with hers to the front door. At least he remembered the pizza.
Beige and silver with cardinal shutters, the ranch-style house sits two blocks from the beach. The previous owners were desperate to sell after Hurricane Florence damaged the roof and flooded the kitchen. Darcy grabbed the ranch at half of its market value and hired the neighborhood handyman to re-shingle the roof. The man also added a small deck off the back door, and it’s there she likes to sit with a glass of wine while the final hour of sun turns the cove golden.
Jennifer bounces past with the phone glued to her ear as Darcy drags the bags into the foyer. If Hunter is the perpetual dark cloud which promises flooding rains, Jennifer is a tornado that strikes out of a clear blue sky. With her dark, wavy hair yanked back in a ponytail, Jennifer is the spitting image of Darcy at fourteen. Although Darcy doubts there was ever a time she could pull off jean shorts cut in a Daisy Duke-style.
“Why do you even bother to wear pants?” Darcy asks, dropping her keys on the kitchen counter. Jennifer shoots her a withering glare and ends the phone call. “No, seriously. If you’re going to show that much, ditch the shorts and save me a night’s worth of laundry.”
“Stop,” Jennifer says, dragging the word out as though someone is twisting her arm. Just as quickly Jennifer sets the phone on the counter and smiles, hands on hips, feet drawn together and back erect, a pose Darcy recognizes from her daughter’s routine with the junior varsity cheerleaders. “Guess who that was on the phone?”
“Based on your outfit, I’ll say the decency police. Who do I send the bail money to?”
“Can’t you be serious for a second?” The yellow tank sags off Jennifer’s shoulder. “That was Kaitlyn. She throws the most epic parties, and she’s having another next Friday night. She’s got a band and a deejay. Everyone’s invited.”
Darcy’s heart skips. She’s used to sleepovers and birthday parties organized by parents. Logically she realizes teenage parties are an inevitability, but Darcy hasn’t met Kaitlyn or her parents.
“And by everyone you mean kids your age.”
“Not necessarily,” Jennifer says with a wink. “Kaitlyn’s brother goes to community college, and sometimes he’s there with his friends.” Darcy raises an eyebrow, and Kaitlyn waves her hands in placation. “No, it’s not creepy or anything. They have their own girlfriends. Ew, Mom.”
“Will there be drinking?”
“No way.”
Yeah, right.
“I’ll need to speak with Kaitlyn’s parents before I consider this. So you’re telling me the college boys aren’t there to buy you beer. They’re just hanging out to talk about the cool stuff they learned at school.”
“Obviously I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“It’s a good thing you did.”
“This is ridiculous. You let Hunter go to concerts.”
“Leave me out of it,” Hunter says, grabbing an apple as he cuts through the kitchen toward the den. No doubt to blow three hours playing Call of Duty on Xbox.
“Your brother is seventeen,” Darcy says, watching Hunter disappear around the corner.
“Like that will make a difference when I turn seventeen. You only trust him more because he’s a boy.”
Despite Jennifer’s perk, she can snap and turn nasty without warning. Darcy takes a breath.