“Yeah, he’s at Indiana this year. Full ride,” Josh said. He took another huge bite of his Dungeness crab cakes. “Anyway, so the clock is ticking, and this guy is huge and fast and heading straight for the goal. No one else is even close to him.” He paused dramatically. “I’m the only one who’s got a chance to stop him.”
Across the table from Caitlin, Josh’s dad, Ted, sipped a glass of red wine, his face flushed and pleasant. Next to him, Josh’s mom, Michelle, watched her son with a rapt expression. Caitlin’s moms were on her side of the table—Sibyl next to her, and Mary Ann on the other side of Sibyl. They were gathered at the Martell-Lewises’ house for their weekly Wednesday dinner. Jeremy wasn’t there, and Caitlin couldn’t help but wonder where he was.
Just two days ago they’d almost kissed. Or . . . had they? Maybe she’d misinterpreted. Maybe he was going to lean forward just to give her a friendly, platonic hug. That had to be it.
“What happened then?” breathed Michelle, looking at Josh.
Caitlin fought the urge to roll her eyes. She was proud of Josh, too, but that game had been almost a year ago, and they’d all been there. They’d all seen what happened next.
Josh put down his fork and leaned in to the table. “There was no way I could overtake him—I could see that. He was too fast, and I was, like, thirty yards away. But suddenly, out of nowhere, it just hit me like a bolt from the blue. I could see the path stretched out at my feet, like someone had laid it out just for me. It was almost glowing, it was so vivid. And I knew—if I could just follow the path, I would head him off, just in time.”
Caitlin tried to hang on to Josh’s words, but she found her mind drifting. She thought instead about what Ava had told her when she called her an hour ago. All those things Ava had said about getting called into the police station. About people seeing Ava go upstairs with Nolan. And if the police were onto Ava, how long before she mentioned who she was with and what they’d done? Then what would her parents do? Caitlin was all they had left now. This would destroy them.
Suddenly she heard Josh clearing his throat. She gave a little start as she realized that everyone at the table had gone still. Looking up, she saw that Josh had pulled a small black velvet box from his pocket. Smiling confidently, he slid it across the table toward her.
Caitlin’s mouth went dry. Her eyes darted around the table. Ted had a knowing smile beneath his full salt-and-pepper beard, but next to him, Michelle’s hands had flown to her lips. Mary Ann grabbed Sibyl’s hand as they both watched, wide-eyed. Across from her, Josh gave her a come-on-open-it-already nod.
Only, Caitlin didn’t want to open it. She was afraid to see what it was. Everyone was looking at her, though, and every second that ticked by made the moment seem even weirder. She took a deep breath and flipped the lid.
Inside was a pendant, hanging on a slender golden chain. It was in the shape of a small glass ball—inside was a small chunk of something green. The air flooded back into her lungs, and the tension at the table was broken.
“It’s a chunk of turf,” Josh said, giving her his lopsided grin. “From Husky Stadium.”
“That’s lovely,” Mary Ann exclaimed, leaning across Sibyl to peer down into the box. Caitlin thought she sounded a tiny bit disappointed. Did her moms actually want her to get engaged . . . when she was still in high school? Then again, that way, she and Josh would be the perfect soccer-playing couple . . . forever.
Caitlin didn’t even want to think about it, though. And it freaked her out, a little, when she realized how much she didn’t want to think about it. Should she be thinking about it?
“Thanks,” she said, finally finding her voice. She shut the box. “That’s really . . . cool.”
Josh grinned. “You’re going to dominate at semifinals,” he said. “I can’t wait.”
Caitlin stared down at her plate, a blur of green and red. She knew this was a nice gesture. She knew it was supposed to make her happy. But for some reason, it just made her feel . . . trapped. Something about the way her moms were staring at her—like she was their last hope, like they needed her to be happy—and the way Josh was looking at her, so sweet but so unaware of anything she was going through, prickled at her in ways she couldn’t even explain. She needed out of here before she started crying at the table.
“Um, can you excuse me for a minute?” she mumbled, jumping up. “I’m not feeling well.”