He gave me a nod and then headed off down the hallway.
Foster bounded up to my locker after school that afternoon with a huge grin on his face.
“Guess where I’m going!”
He was already wearing his football helmet.
“Hmm. Give me three tries.”
Foster’s eyes were wide. “Varsity practice.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Mr. Sellers told me to at lunch.”
“Wait, like, you’re actually going there to practice?”
“I don’t know what else I’d be doing there,” Foster said. “You’re going to come, right?”
Of course I would, and of course I did, but not before hunting down Cas. I found him by his locker, chatting with a couple of girls we had math class with. I none too ceremoniously interrupted.
“Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Yeah, sure. Hey, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
The girls walked off, and Cas turned back to his locker to pull out his duffel. “Thanks,” he said, giving the strap a pull. It was wedged in there pretty firmly. “It’s like you’ve got this radar or something. You know exactly when I need to be saved. Ashley just kept going on about what nail polish color to wear to Homecoming. I mean, it’s, like, ages away.”
“She was probably working up to asking you.” I joined Cas in pulling on the duffel bag strap. We heaved together and managed to yank it out. “Hey, so why’s Foster practicing with varsity?”
“Reggie mentioned that at lunch. I thought it was just a rumor.”
“Just confirmed. From Foster himself.”
Cas hoisted his bag onto his arm. “Got to be a mistake.”
“Why? I mean, he’s got a good kick. Maybe they want to try him out.”
“No way.”
“Why no way?”
We started down the hallway. “The season’s already started, for one thing, and anyway, nobody bumps up to varsity their freshman year. They probably just want him to get a little coaching from Whittier since he’s inexperienced and stuff.”
Marcus Whittier was the current kicker. Since we were a smaller division, there wasn’t a whole lot in the way of special teams. Marcus performed pretty much any sort of kicking function necessary.
I stationed myself in the bleachers after Cas and I parted ways, and I watched as Foster took the field with the rest of the guys for jumping jacks. I left my book open in my lap so I looked less like one of those creepy football stalker girls and more like the uninterested ride of one of the players. But I kept an eye fixed on the field.
It was just like a normal practice, aside from Foster being plugged into it. He ran sprints. He did drills. He practiced kicking alongside Marcus while the team ran plays. Maybe Cas was right. Maybe they did just want him to get a little extra help.
I waited for Foster outside the locker rooms when practice was over, but it was Jordan Hunter who emerged first.
An easy smile broke his face. “Champ! How’s it going?”
That voice. Jordan Hunter could charm snakes with that voice. I grinned stupidly up into his mirrored shades as he sidled up to me. “Good. Great. You?”
“I’m good. Better now that I’ve got company. Walk me to my car?”
I probably would’ve accepted an invitation to walk Jordan across the Sahara. “Sure.”
We started toward the lot.
“So … that was weird, right? Foster playing with you guys?”
“Nah, kid’s a natural. And I don’t know for certain, but I have it on pretty good authority—” he glanced around and then lowered his voice “—your boy’s going to be asked to join varsity.”
“What?”
“Just what I heard.”
“But he just joined C team!”
“He’s good. Learns fast. Whittier had that sprain last year and hasn’t been the same. Foster’s better.”
“But Foster’s … Foster. And what about Marcus? What’ll happen to him?”
“He’ll still go in for punts and kickoffs. Foster’ll do field goals and extra points.”
“But why Foster? I mean … even if Marcus can’t do it, there must be a great kicker on junior varsity.”