That’s it? How can that be it? I confessed! They have to know he didn’t do it on purpose.
“You aren’t disqualifying him, are you? It’s all my fault, not his.”
Mr. Williams responds, “We will make a final decision this morning. Even though he wasn’t the one who put the extra club in his bag, each player is ultimately responsible for the contents of their bag.” He must see I’m about to go into a full-fledged meltdown, because he adds, “The best thing Mr. Perez has going for him is that he brought it to an official’s attention the moment he discovered it. That says more about him than anything else. And you certainly cleared up the ‘how it got there’ part.”
“Leo is an honorable player. He doesn’t deserve to get thrown out over my mistake.”
Mr. Williams nods. “We’re taking all of this into consideration.” He pauses a moment, then adds, “But I think it’s best if you’re not on the course today.”
My head falls. I knew this was a possibility. I mean, if they didn’t kick me out of here, Coach Cantu would have. Especially after yesterday at the pool.
“Will you please tell Coach Cantu what happened and why I’m not here?” I say.
“Yes. I’ll let him know.”
I get up from my seat and walk slowly back to my car. Looking back, I see they’re sitting down around the table in deep discussion, probably deciding Leo’s fate right now.
But my fate is sealed. By not finishing today, I don’t get my hours. And there’s no way Coach Cantu will sign my form after what I’ve done.
I get in my car and drive to the only place I can think to go.
Nonna’s house.
I creep in through the back door in case they aren’t up yet, but the smell of coffee and bacon hits as soon as I enter.
Poking my head around the corner, I see Nonna at the stove.
“Hey,” I say, quietly.
She startles but recovers quickly. “Olivia! What a nice surprise!” And then she sees my face. “Oh, sweet girl, what’s wrong?” She turns off the fire under the pan and has her arms open just in time to catch me. I bury myself in her embrace and the tears start rolling once again.
Nonna walks me to the one of the stools at the counter and sits me down but doesn’t release me. She lets me cry without saying a word, just rubs her hand down my back over and over. This somehow makes me cry harder.
When I finally catch my breath, I pull away from her. She sits down on the stool next to me, her hands clasping mine.
“Want to talk about it?” she asks quietly.
“I screwed up. So bad.”
She reaches over and hands me the box of tissues off the counter and I pluck three out quickly.
“LikeWe’ll have to visit you in jailscrewed up? Maybe I can bake a file in one of my cakes. Help you bust outta there.”
Chuckling, I wipe my eyes and nose because everything is leaking.
“Not quite jail-time bad,” I clarify. “But bad. And not just for me. I may have screwed up something important for a good friend.”
“But you don’t want to tell me what it is?” she asks. Her tone hints she already knows the answer.
Groaning, I say, “You’ll find out soon enough.”
She gives me a squeeze and a kiss on the top of the head. “Well, let’s get some food in you. That will make you feel better.”
Nonna heads back to the stove and turns the fire back on. In seconds, the bacon is sizzling again. She fixes me a cup of coffee and slides it across the counter to me. I don’t know how, but she can fix any member of this family a cup of coffee and it will be exactly the way they like it.
There’s a pan of biscuits that goes into the oven, then she’s cracking eggs into a skillet.
“Want me to help?” I ask.
