My eyes widen and my chest squeezes tight. “But I thought . . .”
She takes a deep breath, parking the car in front of the school’s large steps. “It scared me when you got hurt, and what you did was wrong. But taking something away from you that’s this important isn’t right either.”
I want to cry all over again because after last night I thought I’d never get to play again.
“I should’ve realized why you reacted the way you did,and I’m sorry it took me this long.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “But I need you to talk to me about how you feel. Don’t pull away from me again.”
I squeeze her hand back, but I want to throw my arms around her neck and hug her. “I love you.”
“I already called your coach and he’s expecting you at practice this afternoon.” She smiles. Then she gives me a look. A very motherly look. “I want to be your friend, but I’m also your mother. Which means I’m going to be grounding you for a month. No car. You have perfectly good legs and you’ll be walking to school.”
I laugh, nodding. “Deal.”
“Your bag is in the trunk,” she says, parking the car.
I lean over and kiss her cheek. “Thank you.” I hop out of the car, ready to run into the school with a full heart.
“Myles?”
I pause, holding the door.
“Could Adam and I come to your game tomorrow?”
For some reason the idea makes my heart flutter when I picture them sitting in the bleachers, and I nod.
She smiles back. “Okay.”
“Okay,” I confirm.
This is our new beginning.
39
MYLES
“So you’re telling me your mom is not only letting you play, but she’s coming to our game too?” Sam says as we walk out of our final class.
I nod.
He tosses his arm around my shoulders. “Your mom is an angel. Will she adopt me?”
“Oh, come on. You’d never give up your mom’s tikka masala.”
He sighs. “True. I can’t live without that, I fear.”
We turn the corner and I notice familiar dark hair ahead of me.
Emma stands at her locker. Her hair is messy like usual, and she’s putting a book in her bag.
In the past I’d turn and walk away. I’d pretend I didn’t see her, but after yesterday I don’t think I can do that. There’s a force trying to drag me closer that I can’t explain.
“I have something I need to do before practice. You run ahead and I’ll catch up,” I say.
“Don’t take too long, otherwise Coach will throw a fit,” he says, walking backwards away from me.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be there soon.”
He gives me a thumbs up and disappears into the crowd.
