Jackson looks nervous. “Like what?”
We sit in silence for a few moments and then I finally say, “I could see him making us do timed wind sprints.”
Finny shudders. “That’s the worst. I’d rather runBrownies than do anything timed.”
“How much time will we have?” Jackson looks like he’s going to throw up.
“As long as you’ve been conditioning, these drills should be doable,” Stack says.
Maybe it’s just that his freshman season went really well, and he doesn’t think he needs to worry that he’s put off the conditioning sessions Coach sent out a month ago. He’s got a few days to catch up on as much as his body can handle, or Coach will see it right from the beginning.
The door opens, and Clark walks in with a grin on his face. “Oh, hi, boys. How’s your night going?”
“Not great,” Jackson says, sinking lower in his chair.
Clark looks to me as if I’ll be able to translate that, which is usually easy for me.
“We were talking about what conditioning drills Coach Martin might have for us on Monday,” I say, giving him a knowing smile.
“I’m out running every morning,” Clark says, walking over to the fridge. “You can always join me.”
Jackson nods. “I think I might. What time do you go?”
“I’m outside by at least five, sometimes five thirty.”
Jackson’s eyes widen so much, I worry he’ll pop a blood vessel. “In the morning?”
We all laugh as Clark nods. “Some people get upearlier than the sun instead of sleeping while it’s out.”
“I’m not that bad,” Jackson says, glaring at the cards in his hand.
“Where did you go?” I ask Clark.
His shoulders sag. “To California to film an ad for a new type of gloves. I’m glad that’s over though.”
Laughing, I nod. “At least you’re no longer camera shy.”
“That’s not fully cured yet. Anyway, Jessa and I had the idea to do a get-together before we start the season. What do you all think?”
I frown, trying to picture what he means by get-together. We usually hang out here when Jessa comes over, and that’s not really a celebration of anything.
“Are you talking about movies and food? Or is this old people talk for hanging out?” Finny asks with a grin.
Clark throws a grape at him and nails him in the eye. I can’t help but laugh as Finny holds his hand up to his eye.
“I’m like three years older than you, man. I’m not using a walker,” Clark says.
“Yet,” Stack says, grinning widely.
I walk over to the couch and sink into the cushions. “What kind of get-together are we talking about, old man?”
Clark tries to look annoyed but ends with a small smile. “Get a few people together and have dinner and hang out.”
Stack makes a snoring sound. “Next you’ll be telling us you want to learn how tocrochet.”
Again, I laugh.
Clark rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I never thought I’d be telling someone else to grow up.” He shuts the door of the fridge and walks out with a protein drink. He takes a seat on the other end of the couch and leans his head back against the wall.
