“Katie’s mom hosts the sleepover of all sleepovers,” I backtracked, trying to share a smile with Katie. But she didn’t look at me; instead, she gave a calm Francine a few pets before asking where Austin and Samira were.
“Sam caught an early train back to Baltimore this morning,” Da said, then gestured out past the barn to the far fields. “Austin went out an hour ago with Harry.”
“Surprise, surprise!” Katie laughed, cheerfully enough that Da and I exchanged a look. She seemed relieved Samira was gone.
I certainly wasn’t; I was confused. Last night, Samira had mentioned coming to watch my practice today. It had been a while since she’d seen me play.
Katie set off for the fields, knowing Austin was skeet shooting. I wished I could join him; skeet shooting was our thing. My brother and I loved obnoxiously sporting muddied Wellington boots with green wool hunting coats and matching caps, cosplayingThe CrownorDownton Abbey. Dad always manned the machine that released the circular bright orange clay targets at lightning speed while Austin and I stood ready with our shotguns.
Da touched my shoulder, a reminder that we needed to leave for practice. “You want to get your stuff together?”
I nodded and headed toward the house, only to discover that my bedroom was messier than I’d left it last night; the covers on my bed were twisted and tangled like someone had slept restlessly with my pillows at the foot instead of the head. I also noticedcouch cushions from our upstairs den’s sectional arranged on my rug with another pillow and Austin’s familiar pinstriped comforter.
He slept in here, I realized. My brother and Sam had probably stayed up all night talking. They hadn’t seen each other for six months, at least.
I deduced they’d also been drinking when I noticed a collection of empty bottles on my desk. Next to the stash was a piece of loose-leaf paper covered in Samira’s hurried handwriting.It was so good to see you, Mads,the note said.Sorry to leave so early, but something came up! Thank you for letting me crash here! Austin insisted he’d clean up, so if your room’s still a raging dumpster fire when you read this, BLAME HIM. XO, Sam
Hmm, I thought, then texted Samira a photo of my disastrous room.
He’s the worst!she responded while I was changing for field hockey.I’ll punch him next time I’m back.
Which will be…?I asked.
Soon, she replied.Now go kick ass at practice!
I smiled and sent her a stream of pink hearts. Part of me wanted to fill her in on last night’s slumber party, but there wasn’t time.
***
“So, how was your experience last night?” Da asked on the way topractice. He was almost always my chauffeur, having retired when I started playing club field hockey in seventh grade. Driving me all over the place for games and tournaments appealed to him more than scrubbing up in the OR.
Winter was spent playing indoors, but the National Indoor Tournament earlier this month had brought that season to a close. After the championship game, I’d met and caught up with a few college coaches. All conversations had ended with me getting their cards.
I couldn’t wait until spring sprung so we could start training outdoors. Indoor field hockey got tedious; outdoors allowed you to stretch your legs and get creative.
“Mads?” Da prompted. “Last night?”
I swallowed hard, struggling with how much to tell Da, who would tell Dad. They would then talk, and depending on that talk, weallwould have a talk. I loved being so close to my parents—I couldn’t imagine us operating any other way—but did I seriously want to explain why I was about to start going on all these silly dates? “Ready-Set-Date” Katie had nicknamed my quest, because I wouldn’treallybe like the Bachelorette, dressing up in evening gowns and flirting with multiple men at once.
“I had some rosé,” I admitted. “I hope that’s okay.”
I was very open with my dads about alcohol, because Austin had been…well, out of control when he was in high school. They knew what he was doing, of course, because he went to parties every weekend and even dared to throw one or two. He took hisgroundings nobly, but the last straw had been when he literally woke up face down on our front lawn the morning after his senior prom. He’d blacked out and couldn’t remember where he’d gone after the dance, how he’d gotten home, or whose puke was all over his tux. Instead of spending one last summer in Pennsylvania before college, our parents had sent him on an Outward Bound trip in the Rocky Mountains. It was how he’d fallen in love with the outdoors.
And cleaned up his act. The beer bottles littering my desk? They were all empty root beers. Austin rarely drank now, not even socially. He called himself a “celebration drinker.”
I only drank with my parents’ permission under my own roof. Some might say I needed to loosen up, that I was a goody-goody, but I didn’t want to betray their trust.
“That’s fine,” Da said. “It’s against the law, but that’s fine. What vintage?”
“Whispering Angel…” I stage-whispered.
He chuckled. “I expect Katie’s mother had plenty of snacks on hand?”
“Oh, you havenoidea!” I laughed too, then told him about truth or dare. Or I told him we’dplayedtruth or dare. No specifics.
He didn’t ask for them, but he did ask if it had been fun to spend more time with Katie.
“Sure,” I said, a hitch in my throat at the thought of Katie asking me if I’d ever been kissed or gone on a date with anyone. Her voice had been slow and so sweet. It was like sheknewshewas on the cusp of epically embarrassing me.
