I don’t think twice before sliding my thumb across the screen and answering. Her and Dad’s faces fill the screen.
“Noah. Hi sweetheart,” Mom says, a smile always present on her face. “Are you excited for the game tonight?”
She hasn’t aged a bit. Her blonde hair is now styled in a short pixie cut, and glasses hide her blue eyes from the screen. Dad, however, has gone completely gray.
“I am. Ready to finally play together as a team, even if it’s only preseason.”
“Everything I’m hearing is that Coach Andrews is really going to turn the team around this year,” Dad tells me. “You’re lucky you get to play with him.”
“It’s not like I didn’t have a great coach in Denver, Dad,” I argue.
“Not saying you didn’t. But I’d hate for you to squander such a great opportunity. Not a lot of guys get traded and then can say they’ll help build a team from the ground up.”
The enthusiasm in my dad’s voice is obvious. I’m trying to get to that same level, but it’s still hard. Especially thinking of who I’ll be rooming with tonight.
Why does the thought of dealing with Graham Fisher turn me into a high schooler with an ax to grind?
“Is Graham looking out for you?” Mom asks. “I talked to Frankie the other day, and she hadn’t really heard anything from him.”
I groan, scrubbing a hand down my face. No use in hiding what they’ll eventually hear. My parents and their friends, Dad’s old teammates, are the biggest gossips in the world. I already talked to Nick about it, which means Angie heard, and within a few days, my parents will be hearing it through the grapevine.
Might as well rip the bandage off now.
“Not really. We kind of got into it at practice the other day.”
That has both of their faces drawing up tight in confusion. “A fight?” Dad asks. “You two?”
“Noah Jackson Fields. You shouldn’t be fighting with your teammates,” Mom chides.
I wince at her admonishment. Doesn’t matter how old you are, there’s nothing like getting told off by your mother.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen. It just did.”
“When did things go so wrong between the two of you?” Mom asks. “I always thought you were friends growing up.”
“As much as we could be when he was so much younger than me.”
“Look,” Dad interjects. “I know part of this might have to do with the fact that you’re having a hard time adjusting still since being traded.”
I try not to roll my eyes at him. Not when he’s only trying to be helpful and give advice.
“But look at this as an opportunity.”
“An opportunity?” I ask.
“Yes,” Mom agrees. “Just because you aren’t a captain anymore doesn’t mean you can’t act like one. Getting into fights with a teammate? That’s not like you. Step up and show the Knights the caliber of player you really are. Remind them why they traded foryou.”
“Okay, Mom.”
“Don’t use that exasperated tone with me, son.”
“Mom! I wasn’t.”
I totally was, but I was trying to hide it. I should know by now that I can’t get anything past my mom. Changing the phone to my other hand, I spot my Dopp kit on the other bed and grab it.
“Noah. Are you still in that hotel room?” Dad asks, eyeing the room behind me the best he can on a tiny screen over a thousand miles away.
“My condo isn’t ready yet.”
