Alan introduced me to Aimee Nam as his girlfriend, and I was genuinely happy for him.
Ms. Genovese pulled me aside after AP U.S. history to thank me for participating in class more this week and to tell me if I keep up the good work, she doesn’t see any reason why I wouldn’t get a five on the AP exam at the end of the year.
My mom told me it’s great to see me smiling again. And she had the hugest smile on her face when she said it.
I know it sounds crazy, but Hope hasn’t been crying as much. She finally has one full tooth, right in the front, so maybe it’s not hurting so much anymore? Whatever the reason, she’s let me hold her a couple of times without putting up a fuss. And her little chubby fingers have been reaching toward my face more than they used to, like she’s trying to tell me she wants me around.
I’ve been feeling good. Sturdy. Which is saying a lot. So of course I let my guard down.
Seriously, how is it that I’ve waded this far through waist-high shit and still haven’t learned there’s no such thing as a happy ending?
Chapter 27
Friday afternoon, I pick up Hope at day care and go straight home to rest before I have to be back on the field for the biggest game of my life. Coach confirmed the UCLA recruiter is in fact in town to watch me play, so all I have to do is put up a good showing—hopefully as good as last week’s—and I’ll be golden.
I actually manage to get in a half-hour nap, thanks to Hope’s new cooperative attitude. I get up when my alarm goes off at five-fifteen, change Hope’s diaper, and head into the kitchen to make her a bottle. Mom’s there, stirring sauce into a pot of pasta.
“What’s this?” I ask, swapping the baby for a bowl. She slides the baby harness over her chest and lowers Hope into it. “I thought you’d still be working.”
“I cut out early today. Thought you might want to fuel up on carbs before the big game.” She starts mixing some baby formula, and I plop into a kitchen chair.
I take a bite. God, I was really hungry. I take another. “Thanks, Mama,” I say through a mouthful of food. “But I thought you didn’t want me to go to UCLA anymore.”
“It’s not a matter of whether I want you to go or not, bud.” She kisses Hope’s little baby nose, and Hope giggles and squeals and waves her arms and legs around. “It’s more complicated now. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to impress the pants off that recruiter.”
“Mom. Gross.”
She laughs. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah.” I finish off the contents of the bowl and chug a bottle of water. “I gotta go. Have to be at school by six.”
Mom nods. “Hey, I wanted to ask you if it’s okay if I bring Declan tonight.”
“Who the hell is Declan?”
“My boyfriend.” She grabs Hope’s hand and waltzes around the tiny kitchen.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. First of all, since when is he your boyfriend?” Mom getting a boyfriend? Alan getting a girlfriend? The world is a strange and remarkable place. “Second of all, his name is Declan? What the hell kind of a name is that?”
“It’s Irish, you doofus. What the hell kind of a name is Ryden?”
Good point. “A weird-ass name my weird-ass mother made up.”
She sticks her tongue out at me. “And he hasn’t been my boyfriend for very long, but I think he will be. And I want you to meet him.”
I raise an eyebrow. “He knows about me?”
Mom rolls her eyes. “Obviously he knows about you if he’s coming to your game tonight.”
“And he knows about Hope?”
“He knows about Hope.”
“And he’s okay with it?”
Mom looks me dead in the eye. “I wouldn’t be with someone who wasn’t.”
“All right, then I guess it’s okay if he comes. Game starts at seven. You should get there early to get good seats.”
“Thanks, bud. Is your, um, friend coming tonight too?”
“My, um, friend?”
Mom’s suddenly super occupied with smoothing Hope’s hair. Which is ridiculous, because her hair sticks up every which way no matter what. “The girl from work you’ve been spending time with.”
I clear my throat. “Her name is Joni.”
“Joni,” Mom repeats, nodding.
“She has to work tonight, so no, she’s not coming.” That’s true, though Joni wanted to switch her schedule so she could make the game. I told her not to, that I’d be too nervous with her there, that I’d call her after to let her know how it went. Which was code for, “No, don’t come, ’cause if you do, you’ll talk to my friends and find out everything I’ve been hiding from you, and that would be very, very bad.”
“Bummer,” Mom says.
“Yeah.” It is a bummer. I would have liked Joni to be there. I always played better when I knew Meg was in the stands, watching. Oh well.
“Has she met Hope yet?”
“No.”
“You going to bring her around here? She’s welcome anytime, you know.”
“I know.” I nod. “Well, see you at the game. Love you.”
“Love you too. Have fun.”