I’ve been banned from being on the field at practice, too, and despite Bob’s best attempt to lie that I was his assistant and he needed me on the field to help with training, the wall put up between me and the coaching staff stayed strong. They know who I am, and as far as Jimmy’s concerned, I’m the enemy.
I haven’t talked to Nico, other than a few short conversations on the phone. I dropped off a stack of homework assignments by his front door yesterday. I set them amidst the flowers, notes, and pans of food that had been left for Nico, his mom, and Alyssa. I recognized the roses from Mrs. Mendoza’s yard, and when I went home, I pulled several of the dying ones from my vase, drying them and sliding them into the pages of a dictionary to press them flat. They will forever be one of the most precious things I’ve ever been given.
I’m unfolding the blanket on the front row of the bleachers to save room for my family when a pair of hands slips into view, grabbing one end and helping me.
“I thought you could use company, since nobody wants to sit by us,” my brother says, helping me shake the blanket out before laying it along the front row.
“Hey, no crutches!” I say, noticing he’s in a modified type of cast cut below his knee.
My brother hops on his good leg a few times.
“I went today. Doc says it’s healing incredibly fast. I still can’t put pressure on it, though,” he says.
“So you…hopped up here?” I scold him a little, knowing how my brother hates obeying any orders, even the ones from his doctor.
“Scooter,” he says, turning to look over his shoulder. I look to the corner, by the bleacher ramp at the end, and I see it.
“Cute…why pink?” I ask, looking him in the eyes again.
“Mom’s choice. She said she’s still punishing me in little ways. I have a feeling that’s going to last for years,” he says.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I say.
We both sit on either end of the blanket, and my brother holds my various pieces of equipment as I set up my tripod, wanting to keep it in front of me to film tonight. I’m not taking any chances of it mysteriously getting turned off.
“Dad says USC is coming,” my brother says, handing me my equipment bag when we’re done so I can zip it closed.
“They are,” I say, inhaling and holding it for a few seconds before blowing it out hard enough to move the few fine hairs around my face. “I hope they let Nico play.”
“Oh…they will,” Noah says, his eyes out on the field where the team of referees are arriving and inspecting the sidelines. I stare at him for several seconds until he turns to look at me. “What?”
“Why are you so confident, Noah Prescott?” I ask, my lip ticked up in suspicion.
“Let’s just say Travis and Colton have a plan,” my brother says, pulling his seed bag from his back pocket and tearing it open with his teeth.
I watch him and his smile slides up on one side, too, to match mine, and he winks.
“I hope they know what they’re doing,” I say.
“I think they’ve got it handled,” he says, looking on again, pouring in a handful of seeds and relaxing back, his arms on the bleacher seat behind us.
My parents arrive a few minutes later, whispering about something that gets both Noah and me curious. I stare at them, leaning forward and showing my obvious interest until my mom finally acknowledges me with the tilt of her head.
“You two are whispering like teenagers and speaking in code. How would you like it if Noah and I did that,” I tease, but I genuinely want them to stop.
My mom pulls her lips in tight and smiles with a nod.
“You’re right. Chad? We should tell them,” my mom says, turning to my father.
“Holy shit, you are not pregnant!” my brother says.
“Uh…” my mom laughs out once, hard and guttural. “No. That…that is definitely not what we are talking about. Good lord, we finally almost have you two out of the house.”
“Gee, thanks,” I say.
“Well, that one’s kind of a handful,” my mom says, pointing her thumb to my brother on the other side.
I laugh and he flips me off. My mom smacks his arm with the back of her hand.
“It’s news about me, actually,” my dad says, running his hand over his chin, his gaze swinging from my brother to me and then back to my mom. “I…got a job offer today.”
“Oh my God, seriously? That’s…that’s amazing! What? Where?”
“Well, I’ve always thought your mother looked good in Crimson…” my dad begins, and my brother spits his seeds from his mouth in all directions, pushing up to look my dad in the eyes.
“No fucking way!” Noah shouts.
“Noah James, you watch your mouth!” my mom scolds.
“Sorry, but…Mom…is he serious? Are you…Dad, are you serious?” Noah asks, and I lean forward to watch my dad’s face, too.
The smile is the proudest I’ve seen him wear in years.