We’re almost to the bus stop when I notice the door closing. “Wait for us! We’re coming!” I shout at the driver, who thankfully hears me over the chatter and reopens the door. Gracie catches up, and we grab a seat together.
After school today, I’ll kick off my high school football career with my first varsity practice. I pull a copy of the playbook out of my backpack and start reviewing my routes. The diagrams blur a bit, and I shake my head, closing the binder. Something in my body feels different than my usual nerves, but I’m sure it’s just first day jitters.
Camp went well over the summer, but now, I’ll have more people to impress. Winfield High is known for their athletics, and the Boosters pour money into the football program. As the “star receiver” of the Titans, I’ll be expected to perform on and off the field. My heart races when I think about it, but the end result will be worth the grind. I just need to bring my A-game, land a D1 offer, and make it to the league. I crafted this plan with Gracie when we were ten, and the most important part is bringing her along with me. She can go to vet school whereverI play football and open up her own practice wherever I get drafted. It’s basically set in stone.
I turn toward Gracie, who is finally relaxed and calm in her seat.
“Hey, you’re coming to my first practice later, right?”
“Like I have a choice,” she teases. “Your mom is my ride home.”
I pretend to be offended before mumbling, “I’m actually kind of nervous.”
Gracie leans closer to me, eyes wide in surprise. “Danny. Colleges were scouting you in junior high. You’re amazing at what you do, and everyone is going to love you.”
Her words make me feel better, like they always do, but I still have a sinking feeling in my stomach. “Do you think you could walk with me to the field after school?”
She gives my hand a little pat. “Of course. I’ll meet you at the library after my last class. Hey, fact for a feeling?”
My eyes soften. “Sure. Let me think.” My facts are almost always sports trivia. “Here’s a good one. When you get three strikes in a row while bowling, it’s called a turkey.”
Gracie laughs. “Why’s that?”
“Back in the olden days, the winner of bowling tournaments won a turkey.”
“Pretty straightforward, then.”
I return her smile with a crooked one of my own. I’m feeling some nervousness still, but it’s much better than before. “So, what’s your feeling?”
Her smile grows all the way up past her cheeks, causing her eyes to squint. “I feel like you’re going to crush practice today.”
Chapter 11
Grace
Fifteen Years Old
I’m rushing to my final and most dreaded class of the day—English. The room is on the other side of campus from my last class, so I’m hustling to make it on time.
Hurrying inside, I survey the somewhat dated classroom, with its messy chalkboard, maroon carpet, dusty bookshelves, and rows of wooden desks. I don’t see anyone I’m even remotely familiar with. I sit down at the only available seat near the back of the room and pull out my yellow notebook and favorite mechanical pencil. After writing his name on the board, our teacher, Mr. Aberdeen, quiets us.
“Hello, class!”
“Hello,” everyone mumbles. I keep my mouth shut.
“You can do better than that! Hello, class!” he shouts.
“Hello,” everyone groans loudly. I still keep my mouth shut. I always take any opportunity to choose silence over speech in a new situation that might trigger my stutter.
The syllabus I received on Freshman Orientation Night stated that the first unit finishes with a public speaking requirement. We have to present in front of the whole class with a partner, which couldn’t be more out of my comfort zone.
“Today, we’re going to start with saying our name and a fun fact about ourselves.” Mr. Aberdeen scans the room, and his gaze lands on me. “You seem a little quiet today.” He smiles and glances down at the class roster in his hands before looking up again. “Susannah?”
I nod.
“I remember you from orientation. Welcome, Susannah! Please share your fun fact.”
Wracking my brain for a fun fact that requires me to speak the fewest words, I barely open my mouth when I mumble, “I like d-dogs.”
