Chronicle 3
“The Big Man On Campus: We're Talking About Practice”
Late August 1980
Crestview High School
Provo, Utah Province, Republic of Cascadia
Paul Ritter had three quarterbacks.
This was unfortunate because he needed one.
“Again!” he shouted.
The Crestview Crows hurried back towards the line of
scrimmage.
Ritter stood several yards behind the offence with his arms
folded, staring at a group of teenagers who were supposedly going to play an
actual football game in less than a week.
He wasn't convinced.
Crestview opened the season against Christ The Savior.
This should have reassured him.
Christ The Savior had won one game the previous season.
That game had been against a school which subsequently
discovered it had accidentally used an ineligible player and forfeited.
There was an old joke around Provo that Christ The Savior actually
needed Christ the Savior to save its football team.
Some of their own fans had started telling it. No one knew
when it started but, by now, the joke- and the reputation- just stuck.
Ritter didn't care.
Bad teams beat worse teams all the time.
…and right now, Crestview looked entirely capable of being
the worse team.
“Munson!”
Bobby Munson stepped beneath centre.
“Blue thirty-two!” he shouted. “Blue thirty-two! Set!”
The ball was snapped.
Bobby dropped back.
Ritter watched the play develop.
Receiver on the left was covered.
Slot receiver was covered.
Running back came open underneath.
Bobby saw him.
Good.
Bobby ignored him.
Bad.
Instead, he planted his feet and launched the ball towards
the right sideline.
Ritter closed his eyes.
He didn't need to watch.
He already knew.
The ball sailed beautifully through the air.
For approximately twenty-five yards.
Unfortunately, the receiver was forty yards away.
A defensive back casually intercepted it.
Ritter opened his eyes.
“Munson!”
Bobby turned towards him.
“What?”
“What did you see?”
“Peterson had him beat.”
“He did.”
“I figured I could get it over the top.”
“You couldn't.”
“I almost did.”
Ritter stared at him.
The defensive back was currently returning the interception
in the opposite direction.
“No, Bobby. You didn't.”
“I just needed a little more on it.”
“You don't have a little more.”
Bobby frowned.
“I do.”
Ritter sighed.
That was Bobby Munson.
Probably the smartest quarterback on the roster.
Bobby understood coverages. He recognized blitzes. He knew
where everybody was supposed to be. Ritter could draw something on a chalkboard
once and Bobby would remember it three weeks later.
There was just one minor problem.
Bobby Munson had the throwing arm of somebody's grandmother.
…and apparently nobody had informed Bobby Munson of this.
“Next!”
Bobby jogged away.
Jensen Munnerlyn came in.
Ritter liked Jensen.
He especially liked Jensen when other coaches stopped
telling him what Jensen was.
“He's quick,” assistant coach Wayne Calder had said
approximately seventeen times during training camp.
Ritter knew Jensen was quick.
Jensen was Black.
Apparently this meant half the coaching staff had
collectively decided he was supposed to run around.
Ritter had watched them install option plays for him.
Rollouts.
Designed quarterback runs.
Anything which allowed Jensen Munnerlyn to demonstrate his
supposedly natural athleticism.
Jensen hated almost all of them.
He wanted to stand in the pocket.
Ritter had finally let him.
Turned out he was pretty good at it.
“Red eighteen!” Jensen shouted. “Red eighteen!”
He took the snap.
Three-step drop.
Looked left.
Nothing.
Looked middle.
Nothing.
Pressure came from the right.
Jensen stepped forward instead of running.
Good.
Very good.
The pocket tightened around him.
Jensen remained there.
Then he found the tight end crossing underneath and fired
the ball directly into his hands.
Ritter blew his whistle.
“Good!”
Jensen looked over.
“That's it?”
“What do you want?”
“I don't know. Praise?”
“That was praise.”
“You said one word.”
“You want a parade?”
Jensen smiled.
“I'd take one.”
“Get out.”
Jensen jogged away.
Ritter watched him go.
He could start Jensen.
There were worse ideas.
There were considerably worse ideas.
Jensen was steady. He listened. He didn't panic. He rarely
made the same mistake twice.
He also didn't have it.
Ritter hated it.
Coaches talked about it when they couldn't explain
what they actually meant.
Arm talent.
Instinct.
Presence.
Whatever magical combination turned somebody who could throw
a football into a quarterback everybody remembered.
Jensen might develop it.
Bobby definitely believed he had it.
Then there was Thomas Rydell.
“Rydell!”
Thomas came running onto the field.
He was fourteen years old.
That alone annoyed Ritter.
Freshmen weren't supposed to make varsity coaches think
complicated thoughts.
They were supposed to be small.
They were supposed to be terrified.
They were supposed to spend a year getting knocked around by
older boys until they learned how high school football worked.
Thomas Rydell apparently hadn't received that information.
He stepped beneath centre.
Ritter watched his feet.
Perfect.
That was the irritating part.
Thomas' feet were always perfect.
His stance was perfect.
His grip was perfect.
His throwing motion was so clean Ritter had once spent ten
minutes looking for something wrong with it simply because he didn't believe a
fourteen-year-old should throw like that.
He hadn't found anything.
“Green twenty-four!”
The defence shifted.
Thomas saw it.
Ritter saw Thomas see it.
“Green twenty-four! Set!”
Snap.
Thomas dropped back.
One.
Two.
Three.
The pocket formed.
His first receiver was covered.
Second receiver came open underneath.
Thomas looked at him.
Throw it.
Thomas didn't.
Ritter's jaw tightened.
Throw the damn ball.
Instead, Thomas looked deep.
“Rydell-”
Thomas stepped forward and launched.
The football left his hand.
Ritter hated how beautiful it looked.
The ball travelled forty yards through the air in a tight
spiral and dropped almost perfectly towards the receiver.
Almost.
The safety arrived at exactly the same time.
The ball bounced off the receiver's hands.
Incomplete.
Thomas immediately threw his arms into the air.
“Come on, Danny!”
Ritter's whistle nearly broke.
“RYDELL!”
Thomas turned.
“What?”
“What the heck was that?”
Thomas pointed downfield.
“He dropped it!”
“He shouldn't have had to catch it!”
Thomas looked confused.
“He was open.”
“No, he wasn't!”
“He had it!”
“He had a safety coming across!”
“He still should've caught it.”
Ritter walked onto the field.
Thomas looked towards the receiver.
“You gotta hold onto that!”
Danny Peterson stared at him.
“I got hit!”
“You still got your hands on it!”
Ritter stepped between them.
“Thomas.”
“What?”
“Who was underneath?”
Thomas stopped.
“What?”
“Who was underneath?”
Thomas looked back towards the formation.
“Eric.”
“Was Eric open?”
Thomas hesitated.
“Kind of.”
“He was standing by himself.”
“The linebacker was coming over.”
“The linebacker was six yards away.”
“He could've closed.”
“He could've grown wings too. Throw Eric the ball.”
Thomas shook his head.
“That would've gotten us like five yards.”
“Yes.”
“I could've gotten forty.”
“You got zero.”
Thomas looked back towards Danny.
“Because he dropped it.”
Danny threw his arms into the air.
“Oh, screw you!”
“Enough!” shouted Ritter.
Everyone went quiet.
Ritter stared at Thomas.
Thomas stared back.
This was the problem.
Not the arm.
By Jove, definitely not the arm.
Ritter had coached high school football for eighteen years.
He had seen strong arms.
He had seen accurate arms.
He had seen quarterbacks who could throw fifty yards and
quarterbacks who claimed they could throw sixty until someone actually measured
it.
Thomas Rydell might have had the best arm he'd ever seen on
a freshman.
Possibly the best he'd ever seen on anybody his age.
Unfortunately, attached to that arm was Thomas Rydell.
“Again,” said Ritter.
Thomas returned to the huddle.
The offence reset.
Ritter stepped backwards.
“Watch the underneath route!” he shouted.
“I know!” Thomas called back.
Ritter closed his eyes.
He counted to three.
Then opened them.
“Run the play.”
Thomas crouched beneath centre.
“Blue nineteen!”
The defence shifted.
Thomas changed something.
“Blue nineteen! Blue nineteen!”
Ritter frowned.
That wasn't the play.
“Thomas!”
Thomas ignored him.
“Set!”
Snap.
Thomas rolled right.
Immediately there was pressure.
The right tackle had been expecting a dropback.
Thomas had changed the protection.
Apparently he had neglected to tell the right tackle.
A defensive lineman came free.
Thomas scrambled backwards.
“Throw it away!” yelled Ritter.
Thomas kept running.
“THROW IT AWAY!”
Thomas reversed direction.
The defensive lineman chased him.
Another defender broke free.
Thomas somehow escaped both.
For one ridiculous moment, Ritter thought the boy might
actually turn the disaster into something useful.
Then Thomas threw across his body.
The ball sailed directly into the hands of a linebacker.
Whistle.
Ritter stared.
Thomas stared.
The linebacker stared at the football as though surprised to
have received it.
Then Thomas pointed towards his offensive line.
“What was that?”
Ritter slowly walked onto the field.
The right tackle looked offended.
“What was what?”
“You let him right through!”
“You changed the play!”
“I called the protection!”
“No, you didn't!”
“Yes, I did!”
“When?”
Thomas looked around.
“I called it!”
“You yelled blue nineteen!”
“That's the protection!”
“Since when?”
Thomas stopped.
Ritter arrived.
“Since never.”
Thomas looked at him.
“I thought we changed it.”
“We didn't.”
“Oh.”
Ritter waited.
Thomas said nothing.
The right tackle waited.
Still nothing.
Ritter finally asked, “Anything you'd like to say?”
Thomas looked at him.
“What?”
Ritter stared.
Thomas stared back.
“No?”
The right tackle walked away muttering something Ritter
chose not to hear.
Thomas looked after him.
“He still could've blocked the guy.”
Ritter closed his eyes again.
A second head.
That was what the boy needed.
Ritter had occasionally wished he could make a player
taller.
Sometimes faster.
Sometimes stronger.
With Thomas Rydell, he wanted to unscrew the boy's head,
place it carefully on a shelf and install another one.
Keep everything below the neck.
The arm especially.
Definitely keep the arm.
Just attach a brain which understood that every bad play
wasn't somebody else's fault.
The line didn't protect.
The receiver ran the wrong route.
The centre snapped it badly.
The running back couldn't hold onto the ball.
The coach called a stupid play.
The sun was in his eyes.
The field was slippery.
The defence cheated.
Ritter was beginning to suspect that if Thomas ever threw a
football through somebody's kitchen window, he'd blame the kitchen.
He blew his whistle.
“Water!”
The players started towards the sideline.
Thomas removed his helmet.
His hair was soaked with sweat.
He was smiling.
Actually smiling.
Ritter stared at him.
Thomas noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Thomas shrugged and headed towards the water.
Calder walked up beside Ritter.
“So?”
“So what?”
“Quarterback.”
Ritter watched Bobby Munson arguing with someone about
whether he could throw fifty yards.
He watched Jensen Munnerlyn quietly drinking water.
Then he watched Thomas Rydell reenacting his interception
for another freshman, apparently demonstrating how the right tackle had ruined
everything.
Ritter sighed.
“In three weeks we play Deer Lake.”
Calder nodded.
Everybody knew what that meant.
The Dragons.
Homecoming.
Crestview's oldest rival.
Ritter didn't particularly care what the standings said
before Deer Lake. He didn't care what local sportswriters said. He didn't care
how many points Crestview put up against schools like Christ The Savior.
Deer Lake told him what kind of football team he had.
Right now, Ritter wasn't sure he wanted to know.
“You worried about Christ?” asked Calder.
Ritter looked at him.
“I'm worried about us.”
Calder nodded towards Thomas.
“Kid's got an arm.”
“Kid's got the arm.”
“Then start him.”
Ritter laughed.
“What?”
“You watched the last ten minutes?”
“He's fourteen.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
Ritter looked across the field again.
Thomas had found a football.
Of course he had.
He stood near the sideline tossing it back and forth with
Danny Peterson.
Apparently their argument had already been forgotten.
Thomas stepped backwards.
Then farther.
Danny did the same.
Thomas threw.
Perfect spiral.
Danny caught it.
They backed up again.
Another throw.
Another perfect spiral.
Farther.
Thomas threw again.
The football sailed through the air and landed directly in
Danny's hands.
Calder whistled.
“By Jove.”
Thomas grinned.
Ritter didn't.
That was what made the whole thing so infuriating.
The boy could do things Ritter couldn't teach.
He just couldn't seem to learn the things Ritter could.
“If I could screw a second head onto his shoulders,” Ritter
said, “I'd have my quarterback.”
Calder watched Thomas throw another ball.
“What do you have now?”
Ritter sighed.
“A freshman.”
Across the field, Thomas threw again.
Danny caught it.
Thomas raised both arms triumphantly.
Ritter shook his head.
A very talented freshman.
Which might have been worse.
The stands at Crestview were never completely empty during
football practice.
People came and went.
Students stopped by after whatever had brought them to the
school. Parents watched their sons practice. Teachers sometimes sat in the
stands for a while before heading home.
The school didn't allow just anyone to wander in, but
students, staff and parents still made for a decent crowd.
Besides, it was something to watch.
It was outside.
…and it was warm.
In another couple of months, sitting outside on metal
bleachers for two hours would become considerably less appealing.
Chloe Summers hadn't actually come to watch football.
At least, that was the official story.
She had come to pick up her school uniform.
The Deseret Council had required uniforms in Utah schools
since the nineteenth century.
The Council no longer controlled everything it once had, but
it retained authority over certain matters involving schools, families and the
Church of Latter Day Saints.
School uniforms happened to be one of those matters.
Crestview Principal John Davis hated the regulation.
He couldn't get rid of it.
So he'd done the next best thing.
He made it almost meaningless.
Students had to wear the uniform.
Nobody said they couldn't change it.
Skirts were shortened.
Shirts were cropped.
Sleeves disappeared.
Shorts got shorter.
Jackets were altered.
Some students made tiny changes which would have gone
unnoticed by anyone who wasn't looking for them.
Others seemed determined to discover exactly how little
fabric could remain before their clothing ceased to qualify as a uniform.
The Deseret Council had eventually sued Crestview.
The case made it all the way to the Cascadian Supreme Court,
which ruled in 1976 that the Council could require uniforms but couldn't
prevent students from altering them, citing free expression and the right to
scholarly autonomy.
Davis had been delighted.
The Deseret Council considerably less so.
Chloe didn't intend to do anything particularly dramatic
with hers.
She did, however, intend to have it tailored.
Which meant she had to pick it up.
Which meant she had to leave the house.
Which meant she wasn't violating her grounding.
Which meant that if football practice happened to be taking
place while she was there...
Well.
That wasn't Chloe's fault.
She carried the bag containing her new uniform up the
bleachers and looked for somewhere to sit.
There weren't many people Chloe knew.
She spotted an empty space beside a redheaded girl and sat
down.
The girl didn't acknowledge her.
Chloe didn't acknowledge the girl.
For approximately twenty seconds, they sat together in
complete silence.
Chloe glanced sideways.
The girl was applying pale makeup to her face using a tiny
mirror.
She had bright red hair, knee-length stockings and a cropped
Crestview shirt. She had apparently decided the uniform shorts contained an
unnecessary amount of shorts and cut them until they resembled briefs.
A tiny ring decorated her navel.
Chloe looked away.
Then she looked back.
There was something familiar about her.
Not actually familiar.
Something about the hair.
The makeup.
The attitude.
Chloe tried to place it.
Then she realized.
“You look like Pat Benatar.”
The girl stopped applying her makeup.
She slowly lowered the mirror.
“What?”
Chloe immediately regretted speaking.
“Sorry.”
“No. What did you say?”
“I said you look like Pat Benatar.”
The girl stared at her.
Chloe suddenly wondered whether she'd insulted her.
“I like Pat Benatar,” Chloe added quickly.
That changed something.
“You know Pat Benatar?”
“Yeah.”
The girl looked Chloe over.
“Really?”
Chloe frowned.
“Why is that surprising?”
“I don't know.”
“You said it like it's surprising.”
The girl smiled.
“Okay. Maybe a little.”
“Why?”
The girl looked Chloe over again.
Chloe looked down at herself.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Looking at me.”
“I'm trying to figure you out.”
“You've known me for thirty seconds.”
“Exactly.”
Chloe stared at her.
The girl smiled.
“I'm Joey.”
“Chloe.”
“Nice to meet you, Chloe.”
“You too.”
Joey returned her mirror to her bag.
“So you like Benatar?”
“Yeah.”
“She's all right.”
Chloe looked offended.
“All right?”
Joey laughed.
“She's important. I'll give her that.”
“That's better.”
“I'm more into Siouxsie and the Banshees.”
Chloe blinked.
“Who?”
“Siouxsie and the Banshees.”
“I've never heard of them.”
Joey stared at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're doing the looking thing again.”
“You might actually like them.”
“Are they like Pat Benatar?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
Joey thought about it.
“You might like Joan Jett.”
“Who's Joan Jett?”
Joey's eyes widened.
Chloe became defensive.
“What?”
“You've never heard of Joan Jett?”
“No.”
“The Runaways?”
Chloe shook her head.
Joey stared at her for another moment.
“We have work to do.”
Chloe laughed.
Down on the field, a whistle blew.
Chloe immediately looked towards it.
Thomas stood with the other quarterbacks.
Joey noticed.
“You have a boyfriend down there?”
Chloe turned back towards her.
“Do you?”
“No.”
“Then why are you here?”
Joey held up a bag.
Her Crestview uniform was inside.
“Same reason you are, probably. Had to pick this up.”
She looked towards the field.
“…and watching the football team is something to do.”
Chloe nodded.
“Yeah.”
Joey looked at her.
“You didn't answer.”
“What?”
“Boyfriend.”
Chloe smiled.
“Oh.”
She pointed.
“Number eight.”
Joey followed her finger.
Thomas had his helmet on, listening to Ritter explain
something.
“The quarterback?”
“One of them.”
“He's cute.”
Chloe's smile disappeared for approximately half a second.
Joey noticed.
Then Chloe smiled again.
“That's Tommy.”
“Tommy?”
“Thomas Rydell.”
“How long have you been together?”
Chloe hesitated.
“Not very long.”
“How long?”
Chloe counted mentally.
“A few days.”
Joey laughed.
“What?”
“Nothing. You just sounded very proud of that.”
“I am.”
Chloe looked back towards Thomas.
Then she grinned.
“I'm going to embarrass him.”
Joey immediately became interested.
“How?”
Chloe cupped her hands around her mouth.
Joey's eyes widened.
“Oh, yes.”
“GO TOMMY!”
Several players looked towards the stands.
Thomas didn't.
Chloe frowned.
Joey leaned towards her.
“Louder.”
“GO TOMMY!”
Thomas stopped.
He looked towards the stands.
Chloe waved both arms enthusiastically.
“HI, TOMMY!”
Thomas stared.
Even from the bleachers, Chloe could tell he'd recognized
her.
She waved harder.
Thomas slowly raised one hand.
That was enough.
One of the players beside him followed his gaze.
Then another.
Someone shoved Thomas lightly in the shoulder.
Another player said something Chloe couldn't hear.
Thomas pushed him away.
Joey laughed.
“Again.”
Chloe didn't need encouragement.
“YOU'RE DOING GREAT!”
Thomas put his hands on his hips.
One of his teammates slapped him on the back.
Another waved at Chloe.
Chloe waved back.
“Not you!”
Joey burst out laughing.
Thomas' teammates did too.
Thomas pulled off his helmet.
“CHLOE!”
She couldn't hear anything after that.
Coach Ritter could.
“RYDELL!”
Thomas immediately turned around.
“PRACTICE!”
Thomas put his helmet back on.
One of the other players said something to him.
Thomas shoved him.
Ritter blew his whistle.
“Unless Miss Summers plans on playing quarterback, I suggest
everybody stop looking at her!”
Chloe froze.
Joey stared at her.
“You're famous.”
Chloe covered her face.
“Oh gosh.”
Joey laughed.
“I thought you wanted to embarrass him.”
“I wanted to embarrass him!”
“You did.”
“He embarrassed me back!”
“He didn't do anything.”
“His coach did!”
Down on the field, Thomas looked towards the stands one more
time.
Chloe waved.
Thomas shook his head.
…but he was smiling.
Chloe smiled too.
For the next several minutes they watched practice.
Joey occasionally commented on things despite apparently
knowing very little about football.
Chloe knew somewhat more, mostly because Thomas wouldn't
stop talking about it.
Eventually Chloe looked over.
“Do you have a phone?”
Joey looked at her.
“I'll give you my number.”
Joey paused.
“Oh.”
Chloe opened her bag.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I just wasn't expecting you to give me your phone number.”
“Why?”
Joey shrugged.
“We just met.”
“Yeah.”
Chloe found a piece of paper and wrote down her number.
Then she handed it to Joey.
Joey looked at it.
For a moment she didn't say anything.
Then she took out a pen.
She wrote something underneath Chloe's number, tore that
part away and handed it back.
Chloe looked at it.
Joey's phone number.
“You didn't have to give me yours.”
“I know.”
Chloe smiled.
Joey smiled back.
Chloe carefully put the paper into her bag.
“You should show me your music sometime.”
“Siouxsie?”
“…and Joan Jett.”
“The Runaways too.”
“Sure.”
Joey considered her for a moment.
“Yeah,” she said. “I'd like that.”
Another whistle sounded below.
Chloe looked towards the field.
Thomas had the football again.
He took the snap.
Dropped back.
Then threw.
The ball sailed downfield in a perfect spiral.
Chloe watched it.
Joey watched it.
The receiver caught it.
Joey raised an eyebrow.
“Okay.”
Chloe grinned.
“I know.”
Down on the field, Thomas glanced towards the stands.
Chloe immediately stood.
“GO TOMMY!”
Thomas' shoulders dropped.
Joey started laughing again.
On the field, Thomas Rydell had changed.
Paul Ritter noticed almost immediately.
At first, he thought he'd witnessed a miracle.
“Rydell!”
Thomas turned.
“You had Eric underneath!”
Thomas nodded.
“My fault, Coach.”
Ritter stopped.
He wasn't entirely certain he'd heard correctly.
“What?”
“I should've thrown underneath. I was looking for Danny
downfield and waited too long.”
Ritter stared at him.
Thomas stared back.
“…yes.”
“I'll get it next time.”
Thomas jogged back towards the huddle.
Ritter slowly looked at Calder.
Calder looked at Ritter.
“What?” asked Calder.
“Did you hear that?”
“Yeah.”
“He said it was his fault.”
“Maybe he's sick.”
Ritter looked back towards Thomas.
Perhaps he'd finally gotten through to him.
Perhaps somewhere between being screamed at repeatedly and
throwing an interception because he'd invented a protection that didn't exist,
Thomas Rydell had experienced personal growth.
Ritter smiled.
Then Thomas took the next snap.
He dropped back.
The pocket held.
His receiver came open underneath.
Thomas ignored him.
Again.
Instead, he fired the ball forty yards downfield between two
defenders.
Danny Peterson somehow caught it.
Thomas immediately pointed towards himself.
“My fault!”
Ritter frowned.
“What?”
“I shouldn't have forced that.”
“No, you shouldn't have.”
Thomas nodded solemnly.
“Sorry, Coach.”
Ritter stared.
Thomas jogged back towards the huddle.
Something wasn't right.
The next play confirmed it.
Thomas took the snap.
Nobody was open.
He scrambled.
There was nothing unusual about that.
Then Thomas saw a defender approaching him.
He could have stepped out of bounds.
He didn't.
He ran directly towards him.
“Rydell!”
Thomas planted one foot.
Jumped.
…and attempted to hurdle the defender.
The defender stood up.
Thomas immediately discovered that human beings were
considerably taller when they did that.
He flipped over the boy's shoulder and crashed onto the
grass.
Ritter's whistle shrieked.
“RYDELL!”
Thomas rolled over.
He jumped back to his feet.
“I'm good!”
“I DON'T CARE!”
Thomas looked confused.
Ritter stormed towards him.
“What the hell was that?”
“I almost had him!”
“You almost broke your neck!”
“I was trying to make a play.”
“You were trying to jump over a person!”
“I can do it.”
“You very clearly can't!”
Thomas looked towards the defender.
The defender shrugged.
“My fault,” said Thomas.
Ritter narrowed his eyes.
Thomas smiled.
“Won't happen again.”
He ran back towards the huddle.
Ritter looked at Calder.
Calder was smiling.
“What?”
Calder nodded towards the stands.
Ritter followed his gaze.
Chloe Summers sat several rows up beside a redheaded girl.
Chloe waved.
Thomas waved back.
Ritter looked at Thomas.
Then Chloe.
Then Thomas.
“Oh, by Jove.”
Calder laughed.
Ritter blew his whistle.
“Again!”
Thomas took the next snap.
This time he rolled left.
The defence collapsed around him.
Thomas spun away from one defender.
Then another.
He reversed direction.
He could have thrown the ball away.
He didn't.
He juked a linebacker.
He ran backwards.
Then sideways.
Then forwards.
For several seconds, Thomas Rydell appeared determined to
personally defeat all eleven members of Crestview's defence.
He nearly succeeded.
Then somebody tackled him.
Thomas hit the ground.
He immediately jumped back up.
“My fault!”
Ritter blew his whistle.
“RYDELL! HERE!”
Thomas jogged over.
“What?”
“Sit.”
Thomas stopped.
“What?”
“Sit down.”
“Why?”
“Because I told you to.”
Thomas removed his helmet.
“What did I do?”
Ritter stared at him.
“What did you do?”
“Yeah.”
“You're playing like an idiot.”
Thomas looked genuinely offended.
“I took responsibility!”
“For playing like an idiot!”
“You told me to stop blaming everybody!”
“I did.”
“I stopped!”
“Yes!”
Thomas threw his hands out.
“So what's the problem?”
“The problem is that you're still playing like an idiot!”
Thomas stared at him.
Ritter pointed towards the field.
“I told you to make better decisions. I didn't tell you to
turn every play into the Thomas Rydell Show.”
“I was trying to make something happen.”
“You were trying to jump over a linebacker.”
“I almost did.”
“You landed on your head!”
“I landed on my shoulder.”
“That isn't better!”
Thomas frowned.
Ritter stepped closer.
“You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think Miss Summers showed up.”
Thomas' expression changed.
“What does Chloe have to do with anything?”
“Everything.”
“Nothing!”
“You didn't start doing this until you saw her.”
“I always play like this.”
“No, you don't.”
Thomas hesitated.
That wasn't the answer he'd expected.
“You usually play badly in completely different ways.”
Calder turned away to hide a laugh.
Thomas looked insulted.
Ritter continued.
“You want her watching you throw bombs. You want her
watching you run around defenders. You want her watching you leap over people.”
“No, I don't.”
“You want to look like Superman.”
“I do not!”
Ritter pointed towards the stands.
“Then stop checking whether she's watching every time you do
something!”
Thomas looked towards the stands.
Chloe waved.
Thomas immediately looked back.
Ritter folded his arms.
Thomas' face reddened.
“I wasn't.”
“You just did.”
“Because you pointed at her!”
“Sit down.”
Thomas shook his head.
“Coach-”
“Sit.”
“I can play.”
“I know you can play.”
“Then let me play!”
“I can't play a quarterback who isn't focused.”
“I am focused!”
“On Chloe.”
Thomas' jaw tightened.
“I'm focused on football.”
“Then sit down and start thinking about football.”
Ritter walked away.
Thomas remained where he was.
“Coach!”
Ritter didn't turn around.
“Munson!”
Bobby Munson grabbed his helmet.
Thomas stared.
“You're putting Bobby in?”
Bobby stopped.
“Hey!”
Ritter turned.
“Thomas.”
Thomas went quiet.
“Bench.”
Thomas angrily walked towards the sideline.
He dropped onto the bench and threw his helmet beside him.
For the first time since Chloe had arrived, he didn't look
towards the stands.
Practice ended twenty minutes later.
Thomas hated every one of them.
Bobby threw another interception.
Thomas knew exactly what he'd done wrong.
Jensen completed four passes in a row.
Thomas knew exactly what he'd done right.
Thomas could have done both better.
He knew that too.
Instead, he sat.
When Ritter finally blew the whistle to end practice, Thomas
grabbed his helmet and headed towards the locker room.
“Tommy!”
He kept walking.
“Tommy!”
Thomas stopped.
Chloe hurried down from the stands.
She was smiling.
“There you are.”
Thomas turned away.
Chloe caught up with him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Chloe grinned.
“Superman?”
Thomas stopped.
Chloe laughed.
“I saw that jump.”
Thomas didn't laugh.
“You shouldn't have come.”
Chloe's smile disappeared.
“What?”
“You shouldn't have come.”
“I was already here.”
“You got me benched.”
Chloe stared at him.
“I what?”
“Coach said I wasn't focused because you were here.”
Chloe's expression changed.
“I didn't do anything.”
“You were yelling at me!”
“I was cheering for you!”
“Well, don't.”
Chloe stared.
Thomas knew he'd hurt her.
For a moment, something inside him told him to stop.
He didn't.
“I might lose quarterback because of this.”
“Because of me?”
“Yes!”
Chloe's eyes widened.
“You were the one playing!”
“I was fine until you started yelling!”
“I thought you liked it!”
“I didn't!”
That wasn't true.
Thomas had loved it.
That somehow made him angrier.
Chloe looked down.
“Oh.”
Thomas immediately wanted to take it back.
Instead, he picked up his helmet.
“I have to go.”
“Tommy-”
“Just leave me alone.”
Thomas walked away.
Chloe remained where she was.
He didn't look back.
Chloe made it out of the stadium before she cried.
She didn't want Thomas to see.
She didn't want anybody to see.
She hurried around the side of the school and found a quiet
corner between two sections of the building.
Then she sat on the ground.
She wiped her eyes.
It didn't help.
She wiped them again.
That didn't help either.
She felt stupid.
She had only wanted to see him.
She had only wanted to cheer for him.
Thomas liked football.
Thomas wanted to be quarterback.
She wanted Thomas to know she cared about something that
mattered to him.
Apparently she'd ruined it.
Chloe pulled her knees against her chest.
Footsteps approached.
She quickly wiped her face.
“Chloe?”
She recognized the voice.
Joey appeared around the corner.
Chloe looked away.
“Hi.”
Joey stopped.
“Oh.”
Chloe wiped her eyes again.
“I'm fine.”
Joey looked at her.
Chloe started crying harder.
“Okay,” said Joey. “You're obviously not.”
Joey sat beside her.
For several seconds, she didn't say anything.
Neither did Chloe.
Joey looked uncomfortable.
Chloe almost laughed at that.
Almost.
Finally Joey asked, “Was it Tommy?”
Chloe nodded.
“What happened?”
“He got benched.”
“Oh.”
“He said it was my fault.”
Joey frowned.
“How?”
“Because I was distracting him.”
“You were sitting in the stands.”
“I cheered.”
“I noticed.”
Chloe wiped her nose.
“His coach said he wasn't focused because I was there.”
Joey thought about that.
“Did his coach say it was your fault?”
Chloe stopped.
“No.”
“Did Tommy?”
Chloe nodded.
Joey leaned back against the wall.
“That's different.”
Chloe didn't answer.
“He was playing differently after he saw me,” she admitted.
“So?”
“So maybe I was distracting him.”
“Maybe.”
Chloe looked at Joey.
She hadn't expected that answer.
Joey shrugged.
“You probably were.”
Chloe looked miserable.
“That doesn't mean you did anything wrong.”
Chloe stared at her.
“He saw his girlfriend and started showing off. That's his
problem.”
“I didn't want him to.”
“I know.”
“I just wanted to watch him.”
“I know.”
“I thought he'd be happy.”
Joey didn't know what to say to that.
So she didn't say anything.
She simply sat there.
After a moment, Chloe leaned slightly against her.
Joey stiffened.
Then relaxed.
“He's never talked to me like that before,” Chloe whispered.
Joey looked at her.
“How long did you say you've been dating?”
“A few days.”
Joey nodded.
“That going well, then.”
Chloe laughed.
It escaped accidentally through her tears.
Joey smiled.
Chloe wiped her eyes.
“We've known each other since we were six.”
“Oh.”
“He's my best friend.”
Joey's smile faded.
“Oh.”
Chloe looked down.
“He's always been my best friend.”
Joey nodded.
That explained considerably more.
“I don't know what I'm supposed to do now.”
Joey thought about it.
“I don't know either.”
Chloe looked at her.
“Helpful.”
“Sorry.”
Chloe smiled weakly.
Joey nudged her shoulder.
“You don't have to figure it out right now.”
Chloe rested her head against the wall.
They sat there for another minute.
Eventually Joey stood.
“Come on.”
Chloe looked up.
“Where?”
“I'll walk you home.”
“You don't have to.”
“I know.”
Chloe looked at the hand Joey offered her.
She took it.
Joey pulled her up.
“Thanks.”
“Sure.”
Chloe suddenly hugged her.
Joey froze.
Her arms remained awkwardly at her sides.
Chloe immediately realized what she'd done.
“Sorry.”
Then Joey hugged her back.
Chloe closed her eyes.
It wasn't Thomas.
That still hurt.
A lot.
…but as Chloe Summers stood outside Crestview High School
with a girl she'd known for less than an hour, something occurred to her.
She had come to school that afternoon hoping to exploit a
loophole in her grounding so she could see her boyfriend.
That hadn't gone particularly well.
…but she'd made a friend.
For today, that was enough.
Thomas Rydell arrived home angry.
He had been angry when Ritter benched him.
He had been angry when Chloe confronted him.
He had been angry walking home.
By the time he reached the kitchen, he wasn't entirely sure
who he was angry at anymore.
Kathy stood at the sink washing a glass.
There weren't enough dishes to justify using the dishwasher.
There rarely were when Kathy did this.
Kathy Rydell hated dirty dishes.
She especially hated dirty glasses and utensils sitting
around waiting for enough other dirty glasses and utensils to justify washing
them.
Thomas dropped his football bag onto the floor.
Kathy glanced over.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“How was practice?”
“Fine.”
Kathy turned back towards the sink.
Thomas opened the refrigerator.
“Chloe called.”
Thomas stopped.
He slowly closed the refrigerator.
“What?”
“Chloe called.”
“When?”
“About twenty minutes ago.”
Thomas looked towards the telephone.
“What did she say?”
“She apologized.”
Thomas looked down.
“A lot.”
Thomas said nothing.
Kathy placed the glass in the drying rack.
“She kept saying she was sorry she made you angry.”
Thomas leaned against the counter.
“I asked her what happened.”
“What did she say?”
“She didn't want to talk about it.”
Kathy picked up another glass.
“She sounded very upset.”
Thomas stared at the floor.
Kathy began washing the glass.
She waited.
Thomas didn't say anything.
Kathy waited a little longer.
Still nothing.
“What happened?”
Thomas shrugged.
“Nothing.”
“Thomas.”
“Coach benched me.”
Kathy turned around.
“Why?”
“Because Chloe came.”
Kathy stared at him.
Thomas stared back.
“…and?”
“…and she started cheering.”
Kathy waited.
“…and?”
“…and I played badly.”
Kathy slowly put the glass down.
“So Coach Ritter benched you because your girlfriend came to
football practice and cheered for you?”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
Thomas frowned.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“He did.”
“Then there's something missing.”
“There isn't.”
“If Paul Ritter removes players from his football team
because their girlfriends support them, I'm going to question whether Paul
Ritter should be coaching football.”
Thomas rolled his eyes.
“Mom.”
“What happened?”
“I told you.”
“You told me Chloe came. Chloe cheered. You played badly.
Coach Ritter benched you.”
“Yeah.”
Kathy dried her hands.
“What happened between Chloe cheering and you playing
badly?”
Thomas didn't answer.
Kathy leaned against the counter.
“Tommy.”
He hated when his mother did this.
She didn't yell.
She didn't threaten him.
She just waited until he ran out of places to hide.
Thomas sighed.
“I was happy.”
Kathy's expression softened.
“When she came?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Thomas shrugged.
“I don't know.”
“Yes, you do.”
Thomas looked towards the window.
“I just was.”
Kathy waited.
Thomas sighed again.
“It felt good.”
“What did?”
“Seeing her.”
Kathy smiled slightly.
Thomas continued.
“She didn't have to come.”
“No.”
“She was there for her uniform, but she didn't have to
stay.”
“No.”
“She stayed because I was playing.”
Kathy nodded.
Thomas looked down.
“I liked that.”
There was something uncomfortable about saying it aloud.
“I like showing her football.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“You've been doing it for years.”
Thomas smiled.
“When we're watching games, I tell her what's happening.”
“I know.”
“Sometimes she gets it.”
“Sometimes?”
“Okay. Not always.”
Kathy laughed.
“She tries.”
“Yeah.”
Thomas smiled again.
“Sometimes I'll explain something and then five minutes
later she asks me what a first down is again.”
“Maybe you're not a very good teacher.”
“I am!”
Kathy smiled.
Thomas shook his head.
“She just doesn't really understand football.”
“…but she watches it with you.”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Thomas thought about it.
“Because I like it.”
There it was.
Thomas hadn't really thought about that before.
Chloe didn't love football.
Thomas did.
So Chloe watched football.
She listened when he explained why the linebacker had moved.
She listened when he complained about a terrible play call.
She sat beside him while he and Jason watched the Raiders
and asked questions that occasionally made absolutely no sense.
…and she never made him feel stupid for caring about it.
“I like that about her,” Thomas said quietly.
Kathy nodded.
“I imagine you do.”
Thomas looked towards the telephone.
“…and today she was watching me.”
Kathy smiled.
“Ah.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Mom.”
“Keep going.”
Thomas hesitated.
“I wanted her to see how good I was.”
Kathy nodded.
“I wanted to throw really far.”
“Okay.”
“…and make big plays.”
“Okay.”
“…and there was this guy coming at me and I thought I could
hurdle him.”
Kathy blinked.
“You tried to hurdle someone?”
“I almost made it.”
Kathy stared at him.
“I did!”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“I landed on my shoulder.”
Kathy closed her eyes.
“I'm fine.”
“That's not the point.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Thomas sighed.
“Yeah.”
Kathy folded her arms.
“So Chloe arrived.”
“Yeah.”
“You became excited because the girl you love was watching
you.”
Thomas nodded.
“You wanted her to think you were an amazing football
player.”
“Yeah.”
“So you stopped playing football properly and started trying
to impress Chloe.”
Thomas opened his mouth.
Then stopped.
Kathy watched him.
Thomas frowned.
“I guess.”
“…and Coach Ritter benched you.”
“Yeah.”
“Because Chloe was there?”
Thomas thought about it.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I was playing stupid.”
Kathy nodded.
Thomas looked down.
“He told me that.”
“I imagine he did.”
“I didn't understand.”
“Do you now?”
Thomas nodded.
“Yeah.”
For a few moments neither of them spoke.
Then Thomas frowned.
“…but I don't get something.”
“What?”
“I never did that before.”
“Did what?”
“Tried to impress Chloe.”
Kathy smiled.
“I mean, obviously I wanted her to like me.”
“Obviously.”
“…but I never thought I had to prove anything to her.”
Kathy picked up the dish towel again.
“Well, that's one of the things love does.”
Thomas looked at her.
“What?”
“You and Chloe were friends before.”
“We're still friends.”
“I know…but now you're something else too.”
Thomas listened.
“You've decided you want each other in a different way. That
means you're going to start worrying about keeping each other in a way you
didn't before.”
Thomas frowned.
“That sounds bad.”
“It can be.”
Kathy smiled.
“It can also make people do wonderful things.”
“Like what?”
“Things they might otherwise be afraid to do. Work harder.
Take chances. Think about somebody besides themselves.”
Thomas nodded.
Kathy picked up the glass again.
“…and sometimes it makes you try to jump over another human
being because a pretty girl is watching.”
Thomas groaned.
“Mom.”
Kathy laughed.
“I was stupid.”
“Yes.”
Thomas looked at her.
“You're supposed to say I wasn't.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“You tried to hurdle someone.”
Thomas sighed.
“I was very stupid.”
“Yes.”
He looked towards the telephone again.
His anger had disappeared.
Something worse had replaced it.
“I yelled at her.”
“I gathered that.”
“I told her it was her fault.”
Kathy didn't respond.
“I told her she shouldn't have come.”
Kathy's expression changed.
“…and I told her to leave me alone.”
“Oh, Tommy.”
“I know.”
Thomas swallowed.
“She was just trying to cheer for me.”
“Yes.”
“…and now she's upset.”
“Yes.”
Thomas looked increasingly miserable.
“What if she doesn't love me anymore?”
Kathy smiled.
“She does.”
“How do you know?”
“She called this house and apologized repeatedly for making you
angry.”
Thomas looked at her.
“She's angry too,” Kathy continued. “Or hurt. Probably
both.”
Thomas looked down.
“…but if you apologize to her, she'll love you again.”
Thomas looked towards the telephone.
“Okay.”
He immediately crossed the kitchen and picked up the
receiver.
Kathy reached over and pushed it back onto the cradle.
Thomas stared at her.
“What?”
“Not on the phone.”
“Why?”
“Go tell her.”
Thomas frowned.
“I'm grounded.”
“I know.”
“You grounded me.”
“I remember.”
“So how am I supposed to go to Chloe's house?”
Kathy thought for a moment.
“We'll call an audible.”
Thomas stared at her.
Kathy smiled.
“What?”
“You know what an audible is?”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“Your father has been making me watch the Oakland Raiders
for years.”
“He doesn't make you.”
“Not anymore.”
Thomas grinned.
“You like football.”
“Some football.”
“You like the Raiders.”
“I tolerate the Raiders.”
“You like them.”
“Get your shoes.”
Thomas laughed.
Kathy hung the dish towel over the edge of the sink.
“I'll drive you.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Thomas picked up his bag.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Tommy.”
He stopped.
Kathy looked at him.
“This won't be the last time.”
“What won't?”
“You'll hurt Chloe again.”
Thomas' smile disappeared.
“Mom.”
“…and Chloe will hurt you.”
“I don't want that.”
“Of course you don't.”
“How do I stop it?”
“You don't.”
Thomas stared at her.
Kathy walked over.
“You try not to hurt each other. You try to think before you
speak. You try not to do stupid things.”
She smiled.
“You'll still do them.”
“That doesn't sound very encouraging.”
“It's true.”
Thomas looked down.
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“When you screw up, own it.”
Thomas looked back at her.
“No excuses. Don't tell Chloe what she did that made you do
it. Don't tell her what Coach Ritter did. Don't explain why it wasn't really
your fault.”
Thomas nodded slowly.
“You tell her you were wrong.”
“Okay.”
“You tell her you're sorry.”
“Okay.”
“…and then you do what you can to make it better.”
Thomas thought about that.
It sounded suspiciously familiar.
“My fault,” he said.
Kathy smiled.
“Yes.”
Thomas picked up his football bag.
Then stopped.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“I probably shouldn't bring this.”
Kathy looked at the bag.
“No.”
Thomas dropped it back onto the floor.
He headed towards the door.
Kathy followed him.
Thomas reached for the handle.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think she'll forgive me?”
Kathy opened the door.
“I think you should go find out.”
Thomas nodded.
This time, he didn't have anyone else to blame.
Chloe sat cross-legged on her bed.
Joey sat against the wall beside her, flipping through one
of Chloe's magazines.
“I just wanted to be supportive.”
Joey looked up.
“I know.”
“I didn't mean to get him benched.”
“I know.”
“I just wanted to be a good girlfriend.”
“I know.”
“I wanted him to know I cared.”
“I know.”
Chloe frowned.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you keep saying the same thing.”
Chloe dropped backwards onto the bed.
Joey returned to the magazine.
For approximately four seconds.
“Maybe I should be mad at his coach.”
Joey slowly lowered the magazine.
“What?”
“Coach Ritter.”
“Why?”
“He benched Tommy.”
“Yes.”
“So maybe this is his fault.”
Joey stared at her.
“He was obviously very stupid.”
“Chloe.”
“What?”
“You weren't even mad at him five minutes ago.”
“I am now.”
“No, you're not.”
“I could be.”
Joey put the magazine down.
Chloe stared at the ceiling.
“What if Tommy never plays football again?”
Joey blinked.
“What?”
“What if Coach Ritter never lets him play again?”
“He benched him at practice.”
“What if he never puts him back?”
“Why wouldn't he?”
“Because he played badly.”
“Then he'll play better.”
“What if he doesn't?”
Joey opened her mouth.
“What if Tommy never plays football ever again?”
“Chloe-”
“He loves football.”
“I know.”
“What if he takes it out on me?”
Joey stared at her.
Chloe sat up.
“What if he breaks up with me?”
“Okay.”
“What if he decides I'm ruining football for him and he
doesn't want me around anymore?”
“Chloe.”
“I don't know if I can deal with that.”
“Chloe.”
“I've known him since I was six!”
“Chloe!”
Chloe stopped.
Joey pointed at her.
“You didn't do anything wrong.”
Chloe looked down.
“I distracted him.”
“No.”
“He said-”
“I don't care what he said.”
Chloe looked back at her.
“Thomas screwed up.”
Joey started counting on her fingers.
“Not you. Not his coach. Not whoever else was playing with
him.”
“His teammates.”
“Whatever. Not them either.”
Joey lowered her hand.
“Thomas.”
Chloe frowned.
“He's the one who started showing off. He's the one who
played badly. He's the one who got himself benched.”
“…but he's mad at me.”
“I know.”
“That doesn't make me feel better.”
“I didn't say it would.”
Chloe pulled one of her pillows against her chest.
“I called him.”
“You called his house.”
“His mom answered.”
“…and?”
“I apologized.”
Joey stared at her.
“A lot.”
“You apologized?”
“I made him mad.”
Joey closed her eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You think I shouldn't have.”
“I think you've done enough.”
Chloe hugged the pillow.
“What am I supposed to do now?”
“Nothing.”
“I hate that.”
“I know.”
“I hate waiting.”
“I know.”
“What if he doesn't call?”
Joey shrugged.
“Then he doesn't call.”
Chloe's face fell.
“What if he doesn't come over?”
“Then he doesn't come over.”
“What if he never talks to me again?”
Joey hesitated.
“That'll hurt.”
Chloe stared at her.
“You're terrible at making people feel better.”
“I'm not going to lie to you.”
Chloe looked away.
Joey shifted closer.
“You don't have to like waiting.”
“I don't.”
“You don't have to like wondering what Tommy's going to do.”
“I don't.”
“…and if he doesn't come around, you definitely don't have
to like that.”
Chloe's eyes began watering again.
“…but liking something and being able to do something about
it aren't the same thing.”
Chloe looked at her.
“You called him. You apologized even though I don't think
you had anything to apologize for.”
Joey shrugged.
“Now it's his turn.”
“…but I want to do something.”
“I know.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Chloe groaned and fell backwards again.
“I hate that answer.”
“You can hate it.”
“That doesn't help.”
“No.”
Chloe looked at the ceiling.
“…but it doesn't change the answer.”
That was annoying.
It was also true.
Chloe hugged the pillow against herself.
After a while, she felt a little better.
Not good.
Better.
She turned her head towards Joey.
“How did you get so smart?”
Joey laughed.
“What?”
“You're smart.”
“No, I'm not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I'm really not.”
“You sound like my mom.”
Joey made a face.
“I don't know whether I should be offended.”
Chloe smiled.
Joey picked at one of her stockings.
“I just had to grow up fast.”
Chloe waited.
Joey didn't continue immediately.
“My dad's in San Quentin.”
Chloe's smile disappeared.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“What did he do?”
Joey shrugged.
“I don't really want to talk about him.”
“Okay.”
“My mom's around.”
Joey paused.
“Sometimes.”
Chloe frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“It means sometimes she finds some new cokehead to party
with and disappears for a couple days.”
Chloe stared at her.
Joey shrugged again.
“I'm used to it.”
“You're by yourself?”
“Yeah.”
“For days?”
“Sometimes.”
“Joey.”
“What?”
“That's horrible.”
“It's not great.”
Chloe sat upright.
“Does anybody know?”
“Probably.”
“What about-”
“Chloe.”
Chloe stopped.
Joey smiled faintly.
“You don't have to fix me either.”
“I wasn't trying to fix you.”
“You were about to.”
Chloe thought about it.
“I might've been.”
“I know.”
Joey leaned back against the wall.
“We weren't even supposed to come here.”
“To Provo?”
“Yeah. We were in San Diego.”
“Why'd you leave?”
“Money.”
Joey shrugged.
“We couldn't afford it anymore. Mom heard the Council had
good assistance here.”
“The Deseret Council?”
“No, the other Council.”
Chloe rolled her eyes.
Joey smiled.
“They're pretty generous if you've got kids. Housing. Food.
School stuff. Whatever.”
“So you moved here.”
“So we moved here.”
“Do you like it?”
“No.”
Chloe laughed.
Joey did too.
“Maybe I will. I don't know. I just got here.”
“You met me.”
Joey looked at her.
“I did.”
“So that's one good thing.”
Joey smiled.
“Yeah.”
Chloe hugged the pillow again.
“Do you have brothers or sisters?”
“No.”
“None?”
“Nope.”
Joey looked towards the ceiling.
“I think I was an accident.”
Chloe's eyes widened.
“You think?”
“I never asked.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don't particularly want the answer.”
Chloe considered that.
“Fair.”
Joey laughed.
“So it's mostly just me.”
“That sounds lonely.”
“It is.”
Joey said it so simply that Chloe didn't know how to answer.
“I used to get really jealous.”
“Of what?”
“People like you.”
Chloe blinked.
“Me?”
“Perfect little families.”
“My family isn't perfect.”
“I know.”
Joey looked around Chloe's room.
“…but your mom's downstairs.”
Chloe went quiet.
“Your dad comes home. They know where you are. They care who
you're with.”
Joey shrugged.
“Looks pretty good from where I'm sitting.”
Chloe didn't argue.
Joey picked at her stocking again.
“I think that's why I started liking rock.”
“Because of your mom?”
“Because I was angry.”
Joey smiled.
“Rock's good when you're angry.”
Chloe nodded.
“…and then I found women doing it.”
“Pat Benatar.”
“Yeah.”
Joey made a face.
“…and Siouxsie.”
“There it is.”
“…and Joan Jett.”
“Whoever she is.”
Joey pointed at her.
“You're going to learn.”
Chloe smiled.
“I liked that they could do it too. They could be angry and
loud and weird and nobody got to tell them they couldn't.”
Joey looked down at herself.
“So I started thinking maybe I could do it.”
Chloe's eyes widened.
“You want to be a singer?”
“Maybe.”
“A rock star?”
Joey laughed.
“That sounds stupid when you say it.”
“No, it doesn't!”
“It kind of does.”
“It doesn't.”
Chloe moved closer.
“You should do it.”
“Okay.”
“I'm serious.”
“I know.”
“I'll help you.”
Joey looked amused.
“How?”
Chloe opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Joey waited.
“I don't know.”
Joey laughed.
“…but I'll figure something out.”
“You don't have to.”
“I want to.”
Joey looked at her for a moment.
“You know what you could do?”
“What?”
“Exactly what you tried to do for Tommy.”
Chloe's smile faded slightly.
Joey continued.
“Just care.”
Chloe looked at her.
“That's enough.”
A voice came from downstairs.
“Chloe!”
Chloe looked towards the door.
“What?”
“Come downstairs, please!”
Chloe frowned.
She looked at Joey.
Joey shrugged.
“What did I do now?”
“You're asking me?”
Chloe climbed off the bed.
“Maybe she changed her mind about you staying.”
Joey stood.
“You had to beg them pretty hard.”
“I did not beg.”
Joey stared at her.
Chloe opened the bedroom door.
“I negotiated emotionally.”
“You begged.”
“Chloe!” Lily called again.
“Coming!”
Chloe looked back at Joey.
“Come on.”
“Why me?”
“If I'm in trouble, I want a witness.”
Joey laughed.
They headed downstairs together.
Chloe followed Joey into the hallway.
Joey stopped.
There were more doors than she'd expected.
One stood open. Inside was a sewing machine, several boxes
and what looked like an ironing board.
Another room had shelves covering most of one wall.
Another appeared to contain exercise equipment.
Joey frowned.
“How many rooms do you have?”
Chloe continued towards the stairs.
“They used to belong to my brothers and sisters.”
Joey looked at her.
“Brothers and sisters?”
“Seven.”
Joey stopped again.
Chloe was already halfway down the stairs.
Joey stared after her.
Seven?
There were several questions that demanded immediate
answers.
Unfortunately, Chloe's boyfriend was apparently downstairs.
The seven siblings would have to wait.
Joey followed her.
Lily stood near the bottom of the stairs.
Chloe looked at her.
“What?”
Lily stepped aside.
Chloe stopped.
Thomas Rydell stood in the hallway.
Kathy stood beside him.
Thomas was still wearing his Crestview athletic shirt and
shorts. His pads were gone. His hair was a mess. His clothes were still damp
with sweat.
He looked miserable.
Chloe stared at him.
Thomas stared at Chloe.
Joey looked between them.
Kathy looked between them.
Lily did the same.
Nobody spoke.
Thomas had spent the entire drive preparing what he wanted
to say.
He had forgotten all of it.
“Hi,” he finally said.
Chloe swallowed.
“Hi.”
Thomas looked at Kathy.
Kathy said nothing.
He looked at Lily.
Lily said nothing.
He looked at Joey.
Joey folded her arms.
That wasn't particularly helpful.
Thomas looked back at Chloe.
“I…”
Chloe waited.
Thomas rubbed his hands against his shorts.
“I wanted…”
He stopped.
Chloe waited.
Thomas tried again.
“About before…”
Nothing.
He could throw a football forty yards between two defenders.
Apparently speaking three consecutive words was considerably
harder.
Thomas took a breath.
“I'm sorry.”
Chloe immediately ran towards him.
Thomas barely had time to react before Chloe wrapped both
arms around him.
He stumbled backwards.
Then hugged her.
For several seconds neither said anything.
Thomas closed his eyes.
Chloe held him tighter.
Then she noticed something.
“You stink.”
Thomas opened his eyes.
“I just had football practice.”
“I know.”
Chloe didn't let go.
Thomas smiled slightly.
“I thought you wanted an explanation.”
“All I wanted was ‘I'm sorry.’”
“Oh.”
Thomas held her for another moment.
“I still have an explanation.”
Chloe pulled back enough to look at him.
“Okay.”
Thomas swallowed.
“You didn't get me benched.”
Chloe waited.
“I did.”
Thomas looked towards Kathy.
She gave him a small nod.
Thomas looked back at Chloe.
“Coach kept telling me I needed to stop blaming everybody
else and start taking responsibility.”
Chloe nodded.
“So when you showed up, I thought I was doing that.”
“By trying to jump over somebody?”
Thomas frowned.
“You saw that?”
“Everybody saw that.”
Joey nodded.
“Definitely.”
Thomas sighed.
“I wanted to impress you.”
Chloe's expression softened.
“I saw you watching me and I wanted to show you how good I
was. So I started throwing deep and running around and trying to make every
play.”
Thomas looked down.
“I stopped playing smart.”
Chloe listened.
“Coach didn't bench me because you were there. He benched me
because I was more interested in impressing you than playing football.”
Thomas paused.
“…and then I blamed you for it.”
“Yes,” said Joey.
Thomas looked at her.
Joey shrugged.
“He did.”
Chloe almost smiled.
Thomas turned back to her.
“You were trying to support me. I knew that. I was just
angry.”
“Tommy…”
“I shouldn't have said any of that.”
Chloe took his hand.
“You don't have to impress me.”
Thomas looked at her.
“You already impress me.”
“How?”
“You play football.”
Thomas frowned.
“I know.”
“You go out there and do something you love.”
“Yeah.”
“You work really hard at it.”
“Yeah.”
“…and you're good at it.”
Thomas smiled.
“Usually.”
Chloe squeezed his hand.
“That's enough.”
Thomas looked at her.
“You don't have to throw the longest pass or run around
everybody or…”
Chloe paused.
“…jump over people.”
“I almost made it.”
“You landed on your shoulder.”
“How do you know that?”
“I was watching!”
“Oh.”
Chloe smiled.
“No matter how you play, I'm still going to love you.”
Thomas considered this.
“What if I throw ten interceptions?”
Chloe stared at him.
“Ten?”
“Yeah.”
“In one game?”
“Yeah.”
“That would be really bad.”
“I know.”
“How do you even throw ten interceptions?”
“I don't know. I'm asking.”
Chloe thought about it.
“I'd still love you.”
Thomas smiled.
“What if we lost seventy-five to three?”
“I'd still love you.”
“One hundred to three?”
Chloe nodded.
“I'd still love you.”
Thomas grinned.
“See?”
“…but I'd make fun of you.”
Thomas' grin disappeared.
“What?”
“If you lost a hundred to three and threw ten interceptions,
I would make fun of you.”
“That's mean.”
“You'd deserve it.”
Thomas considered this.
“…yeah.”
Chloe smiled.
“I'd still love you.”
“While making fun of me.”
“A lot.”
Thomas laughed.
Chloe hugged him again.
Thomas hugged her back.
They kissed.
Joey watched them.
Then she looked at Kathy.
Kathy smiled.
Joey looked away.
“Okay,” said Lily. “Now that nobody is crying anymore, I'm
going to make dinner.”
Chloe released Thomas.
Thomas looked at Lily.
“Dinner?”
“Yes.”
Thomas looked at Kathy.
“Aren't we grounded?”
“Yes.”
Chloe looked at her mother.
“So we can't have dinner together.”
Lily looked at Kathy.
Kathy looked at Lily.
The two mothers appeared to have an entire conversation
without speaking.
Finally Kathy shrugged.
“I think you've suffered enough.”
Thomas blinked.
“Really?”
“School starts in a few days anyway.”
Chloe's eyes widened.
“Does that mean we're not grounded anymore?”
Lily sighed.
“Yes.”
Chloe grinned.
Thomas grinned.
“Don't make us regret it,” said Kathy.
“We won't,” said Thomas.
“We definitely won't,” said Chloe.
Both mothers stared at them.
Thomas looked at Chloe.
Chloe looked at Thomas.
“We'll try,” said Thomas.
“Better,” said Lily.
Lily looked Thomas over.
Then she smelled him.
Her expression changed.
“You're not sitting at my dinner table like that.”
Thomas looked down at himself.
“Like what?”
“You smell like a football team.”
Chloe nodded.
“He does.”
“You hugged me anyway.”
“I missed you.”
Lily pointed upstairs.
“Shower.”
Thomas stared at her.
“I don't have clothes.”
“Scott probably has something that'll fit you.”
Thomas looked doubtful.
“He's bigger than me.”
“Then you'll have lots of room.”
Joey laughed.
“I need time to make dinner anyway,” Lily continued. “Go.”
Thomas looked towards Chloe.
“Can I-”
“No,” said Lily.
“I didn't even ask anything.”
“I know.”
Thomas sighed.
“Shower.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
He headed upstairs.
Chloe watched him go.
“Don't follow him,” said Lily.
Chloe turned.
“I wasn't!”
Lily smiled.
“I know.”
Chloe looked offended.
Joey laughed again.
Lily headed towards the kitchen.
Kathy followed.
“What are you making?”
“I haven't decided.”
“I'll help.”
“You don't have to.”
“I know.”
Joey followed them.
“I can help too.”
Lily turned.
“No.”
Joey stopped.
“I don't mind.”
“I know.”
“I can chop something.”
“You don't have to.”
“I really don't mind.”
Lily smiled.
“Joey.”
Joey went quiet.
“You're a guest.”
“Oh.”
“Go upstairs with Chloe.”
Joey hesitated.
“I've already been here all afternoon.”
“Yes.”
“…and now you're making dinner.”
“Yes.”
“…and I'm eating it.”
“I hope so.”
Joey shifted awkwardly.
“I don't want to take advantage.”
Lily's expression softened.
“You aren't.”
“I can help.”
“I know you can.”
Lily stepped closer.
“…but you don't have to earn dinner.”
Joey looked at her.
Kathy leaned against the counter.
“She's right.”
Joey didn't know what to say.
Lily smiled.
“Parents do things for their kids.”
Joey looked down.
“…and their kids' friends,” Lily added. “No questions
asked.”
Something about that made Joey uncomfortable.
Not bad.
Just unfamiliar.
She looked towards Chloe.
Chloe was waiting near the stairs.
Joey swallowed.
“Okay.”
“Go,” said Lily.
Joey took a few steps.
Then stopped.
She turned around.
“Thank you.”
Lily blinked.
“For what?”
“Dinner.”
Joey shrugged.
“…and letting me stay.”
Lily smiled.
“You're welcome.”
Joey headed upstairs with Chloe.
Lily watched her disappear.
Then she looked at Kathy.
Kathy looked at Lily.
“Well,” said Kathy.
“What?”
“She thanked you.”
“I noticed.”
Kathy picked up a knife.
“Do yours do that?”
“Sometimes.”
“Mine doesn't.”
From upstairs came Thomas' voice.
“Mom!”
Kathy looked towards the ceiling.
“What?”
“WHERE'D YOU PUT MY BAG?”
Kathy closed her eyes.
Lily laughed.
“I take it back.”
Kathy shook her head.
“Maybe we should keep Joey.”
Lily smiled.
“I have seven who've already left. I'm not starting again.”
They both laughed and returned to dinner.
Upstairs, Chloe led Joey past the repurposed bedrooms again.
Joey looked into one.
Then another.
Seven siblings.
A mother downstairs making dinner.
A father whose clothes were apparently available for his
daughter's boyfriend.
Another mother helping in the kitchen.
Joey had known Chloe for only a few hours.
She already knew one thing.
Chloe Summers had absolutely no idea how lucky she was.
Dinner was normal.
That was the problem.
Thomas sat beside Chloe and argued with her about whether
he'd actually come close to hurdling the defender.
“You weren't even close.”
“I was almost over him.”
“You hit him.”
“He stood up.”
“Yes, Tommy. People do that.”
“He cheated.”
Chloe stared at him.
“How do you cheat at being tackled?”
“I don't know.”
“You're blaming him again.”
Thomas stopped.
Kathy looked over.
Lily looked over.
Thomas sighed.
“My fault.”
Chloe grinned.
“Very good.”
Joey smiled quietly and took another bite.
The conversation moved on without her.
Not deliberately.
That almost made it worse.
Lily asked Thomas something about school. Kathy mentioned
that Jason would probably be annoyed he'd missed dinner. Chloe complained about
having to get up early again once school started. Thomas informed her that
getting up before nine in the morning was not a human-rights violation.
Chloe disagreed.
Nobody had to think about what to say.
Nobody seemed worried about saying the wrong thing.
They talked over each other occasionally.
Lily told Chloe not to talk with food in her mouth.
Kathy asked Thomas to pass something.
Thomas did.
Chloe stole something from Thomas' plate.
Thomas stole it back.
Joey ate quietly.
She finished everything on her plate.
Then she sat there.
Lily noticed.
“Joey?”
Joey looked up.
“Would you like some more?”
“Oh.”
Joey looked towards the food.
“No, I'm okay.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
Her stomach disagreed.
Loudly.
Thomas looked at her.
Chloe looked at her.
Joey looked down.
Lily smiled.
“There's plenty.”
“I'm fine.”
“Joey.”
Joey looked at her.
“You can have more.”
“I don't want to take anybody else's.”
Lily frowned.
“You aren't.”
“We have lots,” said Chloe.
Joey hesitated.
“Really?”
“Yes,” said Lily.
Joey looked around the table.
Nobody seemed bothered.
Nobody was silently calculating whether she'd taken too
much.
“Okay.”
She reached for another helping.
“Thanks.”
Lily smiled.
“You don't have to thank me every time you eat something.”
Joey looked down.
“I know.”
She didn't.
Not really.
After dinner, Joey went outside.
She told Chloe she wanted some air.
That was true.
She sat on the front steps and looked down the street.
The sun was lower now.
Everything was quiet.
Joey rubbed beneath one eye.
Her finger came away dark.
“Great.”
She tried the other eye.
That made it worse.
“Great.”
Her eyes filled again.
Joey squeezed them shut.
She wasn't jealous.
That was what confused her.
She didn't want Chloe's mother.
She didn't want Thomas' mother.
She didn't want Chloe's house.
She wasn't angry that Thomas and Chloe had something she
didn't.
She was happy for them.
That somehow hurt more.
Because eventually dinner ended.
Thomas would go home with Kathy.
Chloe would stay here with Lily.
…and Joey would go home too.
Except home was different for Joey.
The front door opened behind her.
Joey quickly wiped her face.
“Hey.”
Chloe.
Of course.
“Hey.”
Thomas came out behind her.
Chloe sat beside Joey.
Thomas sat on Joey's other side.
Joey looked at both of them.
“What?”
“Are you okay?” Chloe asked.
“Yeah.”
Thomas looked at her.
“You've been crying.”
“My makeup ran.”
“Because you were crying.”
Joey sighed.
“You two are annoying.”
“We know,” said Chloe.
Joey looked down.
“You were really quiet at dinner,” Thomas said.
“I'm quiet.”
Chloe stared at her.
“You are not.”
“I can be.”
“You spent half an hour telling me about music I'd never
heard of.”
“That was important.”
Thomas smiled.
Chloe didn't.
“You wouldn't even ask for more food.”
Joey looked away.
“I didn't know if there was enough.”
“There was tons.”
“I know that now.”
Chloe waited.
Joey hated that.
Apparently Chloe had inherited the same technique Thomas'
mother used on him.
Joey sighed.
“I told Chloe some of this already.”
Thomas looked at her.
“My dad's in San Quentin.”
Thomas' smile disappeared.
“He's on Death Row.”
Thomas stared at her.
“He shot a cop.”
Chloe looked down.
Thomas didn't know what to say.
Joey continued before he could try.
“He got pulled over. They got into it. Dad had a gun.”
She shrugged.
“He shot him.”
Thomas swallowed.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“I'm sorry.”
“You didn't do it.”
“I know.”
Joey rubbed her face.
“My mom's not much better.”
Chloe moved slightly closer.
“She parties. A lot. Sometimes she meets somebody and she's
gone for a couple days.”
Thomas frowned.
“She leaves you alone?”
“I'm fourteen.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Joey looked at him.
“Yes.”
Thomas' expression hardened.
Joey noticed.
“Don't.”
“What?”
“Don't start trying to save me.”
“I wasn't.”
“You were thinking about it.”
Thomas looked away.
Joey smiled faintly.
“Chloe did the same thing.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
Chloe folded her arms.
Joey continued.
“I'm an only child. I think I was an accident.”
Thomas looked back at her.
“I never asked Mom.”
“Why?”
“Because what if she says yes?”
Thomas didn't have an answer.
“So I learned how to do stuff myself.”
Joey looked towards the house.
“I make food. I clean. I get myself places. If Mom's gone,
Mom's gone.”
Her voice became quieter.
“That's why dinner was weird.”
Chloe frowned.
“Because we made you food?”
“Because everybody kept doing things.”
Joey laughed slightly.
“…and nobody wanted anything.”
Thomas looked confused.
“Why would they?”
“Exactly.”
Joey wiped her eye again.
“That's weird to me.”
Neither Thomas nor Chloe spoke.
“I don't like relying on people.”
“Why?” Thomas asked.
Joey looked at him.
“Because what happens when they're not there?”
Thomas went quiet.
“If you rely on somebody and they disappear, you're
screwed.”
Chloe reached for Joey's hand.
“You can rely on me.”
Joey looked at her.
“I'll never leave you.”
Joey's expression changed.
“How do I know that?”
Chloe froze.
Joey immediately squeezed her hand.
“I'm not mad.”
Chloe looked hurt anyway.
“I know you're not my mom.”
“Then-”
“…but I've known you for one day.”
Chloe went quiet.
“I like you,” Joey continued. “A lot.”
Chloe looked at her.
“I just…”
Joey struggled for the words.
“Give me time.”
“For what?”
“To believe it.”
Chloe's expression softened.
Joey looked embarrassed.
“I've never had a best friend before.”
Chloe smiled.
“Is that what I am?”
Joey rolled her eyes.
“Don't make it weird.”
Chloe hugged her.
Joey groaned.
“You're making it weird.”
“You said best friend.”
“I take it back.”
“Nope.”
Thomas laughed.
Joey eventually hugged Chloe back.
Thomas watched them for a moment.
“I was an accident too,” Thomas said.
Joey looked at him.
Chloe didn't. She already knew.
“You?”
“Yeah. My parents were really young when they had me. They
weren't planning on having a kid.”
“…but they're…”
Joey glanced towards the house.
“Like that?”
“Yeah,” Thomas said. “That's kind of my point.”
Joey looked at him.
“How do you know you were an accident?”
“My parents told me.”
Joey stared at him.
“They told you?”
“Not like that.”
Thomas thought.
“They never hid it from me. They were young. They weren't
ready for a kid. Then I happened.”
Joey listened.
“They didn't know what they were doing.”
“Do they now?” Chloe asked.
Thomas looked at her.
Chloe smiled innocently.
“I'm trying to help.”
“You aren't.”
Joey laughed.
Thomas continued.
“They figured it out.”
He looked at Joey.
“They wanted me.”
Joey nodded.
“I know that's different.”
“Very.”
“I had them. They were always there.”
Thomas picked at the edge of his shorts.
“…but I was the only kid for ten years.”
Joey looked surprised.
“You have a brother.”
“Bowie.”
“His name is Bowie?”
“Bowen.”
Thomas smiled.
“…but everybody calls him Bowie.”
“How old is he?”
“Four.”
Joey stared.
“Your brother's four?”
“Yeah.”
“That's barely a brother.”
Thomas looked offended.
“He's my brother!”
“He's tiny.”
“He's not that tiny.”
“He's four.”
Thomas ignored her.
“He follows me everywhere.”
Chloe smiled.
“He does.”
“He wants to do everything I do.”
“That's adorable,” Joey said.
“It isn't always adorable.”
“You love it.”
Thomas paused.
“…yeah.”
He smiled.
“He thinks I know everything.”
“He's going to be disappointed,” Chloe said.
Thomas nudged her.
Joey laughed.
“I worry about him,” Thomas continued. “A lot.”
“Why?”
“I don't know. He's my little brother.”
Thomas shrugged.
“If somebody hurts him, I'll kill them.”
“Tommy,” Chloe said.
“Not actually.”
“Good.”
“Probably.”
“Tommy.”
Joey laughed again.
Thomas looked at her.
“My point is, I know it's not the same. I wasn't alone like
you are.”
Joey nodded.
“…but I know what it's like when it's just you.”
Thomas paused.
“…and I know what it's like when that changes.”
Joey smiled faintly.
Chloe leaned against her.
“I sort of know too.”
Joey looked at her.
“You had seven siblings.”
“I know.”
“You're the least only child I've ever met.”
Chloe laughed.
“…but they're all older.”
“All seven?”
“Yeah.”
Joey stared at her.
“How much older?”
“Some a lot.”
Chloe looked towards the house.
“They were closer to each other than they were to me.”
Her smile faded slightly.
“I was always the baby.”
Joey listened.
“Everybody looked after me. Everybody told me what to do.
Everybody thought everything I did was cute.”
“That sounds terrible,” Thomas said.
“It was!”
Thomas laughed.
“I'm serious!”
“I know.”
Chloe looked at Joey.
“Then they started leaving.”
One after another.
College.
Jobs.
Marriage.
Lives somewhere else.
Until Chloe was the only Summers child left in the house.
“It's weird now.”
“You miss them?” Joey asked.
“Yeah.”
Chloe paused.
“…but sometimes I don't even know what I miss.”
Joey understood that more than Chloe probably realized.
Chloe looked at Thomas.
“I think that's why I liked Tommy so much.”
Thomas blinked.
“You liked me because your siblings left?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“You never treated me like the baby.”
Thomas shrugged.
“Why would I?”
“Exactly.”
Chloe smiled.
“You were the first person who just treated me like me.”
Thomas smiled back.
Joey watched them.
That feeling returned.
Not jealousy.
Something adjacent to it.
Something uncomfortable.
“Oh.”
Chloe looked at her.
“What?”
Joey stared ahead.
“I just realized something.”
“What?”
“I'm the third wheel.”
Thomas frowned.
“The what?”
“The third wheel.”
“I know what it means.”
“Then why'd you ask?”
“I was asking why.”
Joey gestured between them.
“Look at you.”
Thomas looked at Chloe.
Chloe looked at Thomas.
They both looked at Joey.
“What?” Chloe asked.
“You've known each other since you were six.”
“Yeah.”
“You're dating.”
“Yeah.”
“You're in love.”
Chloe smiled.
“Yeah.”
“…and now I'm here.”
“So?”
Joey stared at her.
“So I'm the extra person.”
“No, you're not.”
“I kind of am.”
Thomas shook his head.
“No.”
Joey looked at him.
“You don't even know me.”
“I know.”
Thomas shrugged.
“…but Chloe likes you.”
Joey looked at Chloe.
Chloe grinned.
“A lot.”
“…and I like anybody who tells Chloe she's wrong.”
Chloe slapped Thomas' arm.
“Ow!”
Joey laughed.
Thomas rubbed his arm.
“See? We need you.”
“For what?”
“Backup.”
“You're an idiot.”
“Probably.”
Chloe took Joey's hand again.
“You're not a third wheel.”
Joey looked at her.
“You're Joey.”
“That was profound.”
“I thought so.”
Chloe rested her head on Joey's shoulder.
Thomas leaned against Joey's other shoulder.
Joey froze.
She looked left.
Chloe.
She looked right.
Thomas.
“What are you doing?”
“Proving it,” Chloe said.
“This proves nothing.”
Thomas leaned harder.
“Get off.”
“No.”
“Both of you.”
“No.”
Joey tried not to smile.
She failed.
“You're both ridiculous.”
“Probably,” said Thomas.
“Definitely,” said Chloe.
Joey sat between them.
For most of her life, being alone had meant being safe.
If nobody was there, nobody could disappoint her.
Nobody could leave.
Nobody could fail her.
This was different.
Different was frightening.
…but as Chloe held one of her hands and Thomas continued
deliberately annoying her from the other side, Joey decided she could probably
tolerate different for a while.
She still didn't know whether she could rely on them.
Not yet.
For now, though, they were there.
That was enough.
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