I chuckled. “No kidding. And it was crowded as hell earlier.”
“Was it?”
I nodded. “Big turnout for practice.”
“During the week?”
“Yeah?” I shrugged. “It happens.”
He grunted in agreement. Some weekday practices were a ghost town. Some were, well… not.
Avery opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, there was a shrill, “Mom! Look! It’s Peyton Hall!”
We both turned toward the voice and found a mom wrangling four kids, the oldest of whom couldn’t have been more than twelve. One of the younger ones pointed at us and bounced.
“Justin,” the mother scolded. “It’s rude to point!”
“Sorry.” He lowered his hand. “But it’s—Mom! That’s Avery Caldwell!”
Beside me, Avery tensed.
“It is! It is!” One of the boys ran toward us. “Can we get pictures? Can you sign something for us? Oh my God, I can’t?—”
“Stephen,” the mother said patiently but firmly. “Let’s be polite.”
The kid backed off, but excitement still radiated off him.
With the other three kids in tow, the mom came closer, and she shyly looked at Avery and me. “I’m so sorry. They’re big fans, but we don’t have anything for you to sign. Would you mind if I go grab a couple of jerseys?” Shegestured toward the Rebel Wear store. “I don’t want to keep you, but they would love to have some Hall and Caldwell autographs.”
Avery and I exchanged glances, and we both shrugged.
He smiled. “Sure. We’re not going anywhere.” He motioned toward the coffee stand. “We’re just waiting for some coffee.”
“Okay.” She sounded relieved. “Five minutes—I promise.” To her kids, she said, “Come on, let’s go get a jersey while they get their coffee!”
The kids all went wide-eyed with excitement, and they sprinted across the lobby to the store with Mom following.
When we were alone again, Avery patted his pockets, then turned an alarmed look on me. “You don’t have a Sharpie, do you?”
“I…” I patted my own pockets. “Shit. No.”
He chewed his lip. “I’ve got one in my locker.” He fished out his wallet and handed me a ten-dollar bill. “Can you get me a regular coffee?”
“Of course. Yeah.”
Then he was gone, jogging back toward the hallway that led to the locker room.
By the time I had our coffees, Avery still hadn’t returned. I found a chest high table, put the cups down, and set about polluting mine. I couldn’t quite remember if Avery liked cream or sugar in his, but the stand was only a few feet away, so I figured he’d get whatever he needed.
I had just put the lid back on my coffee cup when the smallest of the woman’s four boys sprinted up to me holding a jersey that was almost as big as he was. He was almost to me when he skidded to a halt, his smile vanishing in favor of worry, and he looked around. As his mom and siblingscaught up, he gazed up at me, eyes wide and sad. “Is he gone?”
“No, no!” I put my coffee cup down beside Avery’s. “He just went to get a marker so we can sign your stuff. He’ll be right back!”
Relief took over the kid’s expression, and he clutched the jersey close to his chest.
A second later, though, his face lit up again. “There! There! Mom, look!”
I turned, and sure enough, Avery was jogging back, two Sharpies in his hand. As he gave one to me, he looked at the mom and kids, and he sounded slightly out of breath. “Sorry about that. Couldn’t remember where I’d left them.”
