Bagels are Dad’s favorite.
“Can I have one?” I say.
“Can you eat before the big game?”
“Carbs give you energy,” I say.
“I guess it’s okay,” she says.
Mom letting me have food? This is a first.
I put one of the bagels on my finger like a ring, and I chew it off. Half makes it to my mouth, and half falls onto the floor.
I think about Mom and Dad at the game tonight. Will they sit next to each other? Will they even speak?
I look at the broken bagel on the floor. Mom’s distracted, so I pick it up and pop it in my mouth. Then I grab two more handfuls so I can eat them alone in my bedroom.
62. dad and his echo.
Mom drops me off in front of school, then she and Jessica go to park the car. Mom wanted to walk in with me, but I told her no. I’m not walking into the big game with my mommy holding my hand. No way.
I’m heading for the athlete’s entrance when I hear Dad’s voice.
“Hey, boy-o. Wait up a sec.”
I feel this burst of excitement inside. Dad came to the game!
I turn around to say hi, and I stop.
There’s a woman next to Dad. She’s wearing a cute dress with a sweater around her shoulders. For a second I think it might be my sister, but it’s not.
It’s Miriam, Dad’s old paralegal.
“How are you?” Dad says. “Excited, huh?”
I love how Dad asks a question and answers it at the same time. It’s like he’s having a conversation all by himself, and he doesn’t even need you there.
“You remember Miriam,” Dad says.
I grunt. I thought Miriam was long gone by now. Why would Dad bring her to my game?
“Your father is thrilled,” Miriam says. “He’s very proud of you.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“And we really want you to visit us when we’re in New York.”
Dad gives her a look.
“What are you talking about?” I say.
“Miriam is moving to New York with me,” Dad says.
“I didn’t know.”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you on the phone this morning.”
“But you didn’t tell me.”
“I tried to call you back,” Dad says. “You pressed IGNORE.”
“Yeah, I was doing a lot of that today.”
There’s a weird moment while the three of us stand there looking at each other. The Dad Gap again.
“Are you getting married?” I say.
“Whoa, whoa,” Dad says, “let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Miriam looks away uncomfortably.
“I have to get inside,” I say.
“Of course, of course,” Dad says.
There seems to be an echo tonight. Dad’s saying everything twice.
“Good luck,” Miriam says.
Dad reaches over to hug me, but it feels fake, like he’s just putting on a show for Miriam.
“By the way,” Dad says, “is your mom coming?”
“She’s parking the car,” I say. “She and Jessica.”
“Good, good,” Dad says.
63. roar (of the crowd).
“NEWTS, NEWTS, NEWTS!”
I’m in the locker room all the way in the basement of the school, but I can still hear the crowd. The energy vibrates through the whole building. Friday night. Game night.
Outside it’s excitement. Inside it’s all business.
I’m adjusting my pads when O. slides over towards me.
“How you doing?” he says.
“What do you care?”
“You didn’t answer my calls.”
Before I can say anything, Coach walks through the door wearing a suit. The guys wolf whistle.
“You clean up good, Coach,” Cheesy says.
Coach grimaces. “I must have gained a few pounds,” he says. “These slacks are like a bad hotel. No ballroom.”
“Listen,” O. says to me. “We’ll talk about this after the game.”
“That’s convenient,” I say.
Coach says, “Let’s gather round, gentlemen.”
I’m supposed to keep quiet now, join the crowd, be a good player. To hell with that.
“We do this right now,” I say to O.
“No, we don’t,” O. says.
“We do it now, or there won’t be an after.”
“What does that mean?”
“That means I might not be in the mood to play. Maybe I’m sick of taking your hits.”
“What’s up?” Rodriguez says. “Are you guys having a lover’s spat?”
“Shut up,” O. says. He grabs me by the sleeve and pulls me out of the room.
“Where are you guys—?” Coach is saying as we slam through the door into the empty hallway outside the locker room.
“Everyone thinks you’re a hot shot,” I say, “but I know the truth.”
O. pokes his finger into my chest. “What happened today—it’s not what you think. April was giving me a good-luck kiss, and it got a little heated. No big deal.”
“Very big deal,” I say. “You know I like her.”
“You’ve got a crush. What do you want me to do about it?”
“It’s not a crush. I’m in love!”
O. laughs. “Dude, that’s not love. You want to dip your wick.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing? Dipping your wick?”
“I can’t control who likes me and who doesn’t,” O. says.
“That’s the problem,” I say. “Everyone likes you. Everyone wants to be with you. You’ve already got everything in the world. Why do you have to take what’s mine, too?”
“She’s not yours. She’s a girl. She makes her own choices.”
That stops me. I don’t want to hear things like that. I’m afraid they might be true.
“I tried to help you,” O. says. “I gave you advice. I told you what to do.”
“And meanwhile you were moving in on her.”
“It just happened,” he says. “It wasn’t my plan.”
“Just like Everest, right? That just happened, too.”
O. is quiet. He looks at the ground.
“You went Philip Morris on me,” I say.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means you’re a liar.”
“You knew what you were getting into,” O. says.
“I didn’t know.”
“You knew what the job was, what the center does. If you didn’t know at the beginning, you found out fast.”
The door to the locker room opens and Cheesy sticks his head out. O. snaps his fingers, and Cheesy goes back inside quickly.
“You set me up,” I say.
“That’s what you think?”
“That day with Ugo. Why did you help me?”
“I don’t know,” O. says.
“It was just a coincidence? You happened to be on the third-floor hallway near my locker the day of tryouts?”
“Yes,” O. says. He pauses and cracks his knuckles. “No. The truth is Coach asked me to take a look at you.”
“A look?”
“We needed a center, and he saw you knock a bunch of guys down in some soccer game. He said I should check you out.”
“See how big I am.”
“If that’s how you want to think of it, fine. I went to look at you. That part’s not a coincidence. But that stuff with Ugo, that just happened.”
“You decided to save me?”
“You were in trouble. I thought maybe you needed help.”
“I didn’t.”
It’s quiet in the hall now. I stand there with my arms folded, looking at the number on O.’s shirt. Number 1.
“You used me, O. Just like you used April. And my mom. You win everyone over so you can get what you want. That’s all you care about.”
O. takes a long breath and lets it out.
“Maybe you’re right,” he says.
We stand like that, both of us in uniforms and pads, all alone in the middle of the hall. It’s funny how the pads make it so you can’t feel anything on the outside, but you still feel it all inside.