Adam:
I’d get it if you were upset about losing in a cool sport, like basketball, but soccer is the most tedious sport ever. Like, there are entire games where no one scores. I mean I guess it could be worse, like lacrosse or something. So there’s that.
Jolene:
That is not bad. I mean, soccer is everything awesome, but I shouldn’t expect much from the guy who thought FIFA had something to do with French poodles.
Adam:
You win. At insults at least.
Jolene:
Now that was a solid burn.
Adam:
I feel like a jerk.
Jolene:
And yet somehow you made me smile.
Adam:
Yeah?
Jolene:
Yeah. Want to feel like a bigger jerk?
Adam:
Not really, no.
Jolene:
I play lacrosse in the spring.
FIFTH WEEKEND
November 20–22
ADAM
“You’re not doing it right.” I stood on the side of the road, shivering as the moon started its slow ascent.
“What do you know?” Jeremy said. “And will you please stop shaking the flashlight all over the place?”
“I know it shouldn’t take half an hour to change a flat tire.” But I added another hand to steady my grip.
“Adam?”
“What?”
“Could you shut up for a minute so I can finish?”
I clenched my jaw at the gust of wind that cut right through the coat I wore. It was Friday night, and we were heading to Dad’s. Even though my teeth were beginning to chatter, signaling my impending hypothermia, I was grateful for the delay in seeing him. Our last weekend had been... I’d acted like things might be okay, or at least like we more moving in that direction. Helping him with the lights, talking a little, letting him choke up in front of me and never once reminding him that his actions meant Mom was grieving all alone at that exact moment.
