Darioush would have tried out.
I thought about telling Sohrab that I had made the team. And sending him photos of me in my kit. And him squinting and congratulating me.
I thought about having fun on the field, like I did with him and Asghar and even Ali-Reza and Hossein.
“Maybe I will,” I said. “Maybe I will.”
DARIUS THE GREAT
I kind of wished I could shower after physical education.
There was something to be said for getting clean and fresh again after a game of football.
But guys didn’t do that at Chapel Hill High School.
Instead, I cleaned off my shoes with the towel Coach Fortes found me, got dressed, and headed to geometry.
My throat tightened when I saw Chip Cusumano sitting on the curb by the bike rack after school, twisting the end of his top knot around his index finger with one hand and fiddling with his phone with the other.
I checked my bike for any obvious signs of damage, but it seemed fine, and besides, Trent was nowhere to be seen.
“Chip?” I said.
“Oh. Hey. What happened to you after gym?”
“I had to clean my shoes off.”
“Dog shit?”
“Yeah.”
Chip shook his head.
“Did you need something?”
“No. Just wanted to make sure your bike was okay. I still feel bad about that.”
“Oh. Yeah, it’s okay now.”
“Good.”
“How was your trip? And your grandfather?”
“You knew about that?”
“Yeah.”
“Um. It was good. Really good. Thanks.”
We unlocked our bikes and walked toward the road. Chip kept glancing at me.
“Something wrong?”
“No. Not really.” Chip grinned again. His eyes crinkled up, almost like a squint. “You just seem different somehow.”
I shrugged.
“Maybe you brought some of your ancestor back with you.”
