It’s a quick thought. A naïve one. The other sideline official, the one on my side of the field, races over to where I now stand next to Sam, yanking a red from his pocket.
After my ejectionfrom the game and waiting out my time in the locker room, I spend the next two hours in a “discussion,” a very loud discussion, with Coach. I’m suspended from the next game and, apparently, if I do anything like that again, I will be wearing different colors next year.
And yet, I can’t bring myself to feel guilty.
Back home, I clean up Nanners’ latest mess—how did she get into my bread box?—and lie on the couch with my devil kitten curled up on my chest.
Me: Hey there.
Maggie: Hi, crazy. How much do you regret your life right now?
Me: Regret? I don’t believe in regret.
Maggie: Well, I’m guessing it believes in you.
Me: With a clear conscience, I can honestly say I have no regrets today.
Maggie: Lucca—be serious. How much trouble are you in?
Me: No more than a regular red card.
Which isn’t one hundred percent true. My other red cards never came with a threat of getting transferred.
Me: I have to miss our next game, and I had a small discussion with my coach about not taking things that don’t belong to me.
Maggie: You’re going to get both of us in trouble.
Me: Not if you just keep talking to me. Don’t shut me out and make me do desperate things and we’ll be fine.
Maggie: I was trying to do what’s best and easiest for both of us.
Me: Not talking to you will never be what’s best for me.
Maggie: You know, men who always get their way are incorrigible.
Me: I can’t help it if I know what I want. Besides, I would happily go through that charade again if it meant you’d reply to me.
Maggie: Is this friendship truly worth so much trouble?
Me: Absolutely.
Maggie: Fine. You win.
I win? I don’t think so. Friendship is not what I want with Maggie. She’s like sight for the blind. I’ve seen the light. I can’t take that back. I don’t want to.
Thirty-Seven
Lindy is also incorrigible.She lies on my bed, reading the text thread between me and Lucca. I didn’t feel like wrestling her again, only to lose.
“He got ejected from the game?” She gasps, but there is a grin as wide as Texas on my sister’s face.
“This is serious, Lindy. He could have been fined. He could have been kicked off his team. It could have been so much worse.”
“Over a little singing in the headset?” she scoffs and waves away the seriousness of what he’s done.
“If this were the majors?—”
“Well, it’s not.” She pushes up until she’s sitting, my phone still in her hands.
