“I saw a car today,” I said.
Luke froze.His jacket was half off.He didn’t turn around.
“What kind of car?”
“A black Navigator.Minnesota plates.Parked at the rink.”
The silence that followed was heavy.
Luke finished pulling his jacket off.He hung it on the back of his chair.
“Yeah,” he said quietly.“That was Gulliver Vane.The head scout.”
“He was here.”
“He watched practice.”
“And?”
Luke turned around.He looked wretched.He looked like a man who was drowning and trying to pretend he was swimming laps.
“And he wants to meet,” Luke said.“Tomorrow.With my dad.”
“Your dad is coming?”
“He’s driving up tonight.”
I nodded.A strange, cold calm.The data was verified.The simulation was running exactly as predicted.
“So, it’s happening,” I said.
“It’s a meeting, Austen.It’s… talking.”
“Talking about the future.”
“Yeah.”
“Does that future include variables?”I asked.“Or is it singular?”
Luke flinched.He walked over to me.He sat on the edge of my bed, close enough to touch, but he didn’t reach out.
“I don’t know what they’re going to say,” he whispered.“But I know what I want.”
“Do you?”
“I want the net,” he said.“And I want you.”
“In that order?”
He looked at me, his eyes pleading.“It’s not that simple.”
“It is,” I said.“It’s math, Luke.It’s finite resources.You have a finite amount of courage.You have to decide where you’re going to spend it.”
“I’m spending it,” he insisted.“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“You’re here physically.But you’re packing, Luke.I can see it.”
“I’m not packing.”
