As if on cue, the doorbell rings, and as much as I don’t wantto face May right now, Iprayit’s her just so I can shut my sister up.
‘I’ll get it.’ I scramble to my feet and, before anyone at the table (especially Rod and definitely Sav) can give me any shit, I rush over to the door to see who’s there.
As I open it, relief and terror simultaneously flood my body. She’s standing on the porch in fresh Wranglers and a tight long-sleeved grey Henley after my own heart, her hair braided over her shoulder, that same pair of brown boots embroidered with butterflies peeking out from the hems of her jeans, her favourite pair. She holds a big glass container covered in cling wrap, which she extends my way, totally deadpan. ‘Dessert. We made tiramisu. If you’re into that.’
‘Thanks – um, thank you.’ I step aside and usher her in, closing the door behind her. I try my best to slap an expression of upset onto my face. I mean, I should be pissed. We absolutely have to strike this dumb relationship balance unless we want to be found out, and that’s not even accounting for the fact that May’s anger at practice started prodding at some of the reasons for coming home that I haven’t been so keen on sharing. Instead, I find myself leading May to the kitchen, where we’re at least somewhat secluded from the hubbub of the dining room.
‘We’re not actin’ much like a couple, are we? Going out there and starting arguments in front of the team?’ May sets the tiramisu on the island and leans against the counter, crossing her arms. Guarded. ‘But forget the relationship end of things for a moment, actually. We wouldn’t even be worrying about that if you’d been a fair coach out there. I’m not asking for special treatment, Colt. I’m asking forfaircoaching.’
‘May, I …’ I’m keeping my voice way more hush-hush thanshe is. The May I know well, with the relentless affinity for red-card games, is starting to creep in. ‘I swear, that wasn’t my intention at all. I know last season wasn’t the best, and it wasn’t fair of me to—’
‘To put me in a situation where I had to make the sort of shot I missed a million times over last year?’ she finishes, eyes wide in disbelief. ‘Really, Colt? It’s not just about learning how to move. It’s about learning how tothink. You have to teach that. You can’t expect me to justknow. Does it make sense for me to say that?’
It’s about learning how to think. I kind of wish she weren’t right all the time.
‘Trust me, I get that.’ I train my eyes directly on hers. It’s the only way I can find to steel myself for the confession I’m about to make. I’ve hurt her and hid enough from her, and if I keep doing it, I’ll burn the last bridge I have with May Velasco for good. ‘That’s why—’
‘Oh my word, May!’
I almost slump over the island in despair when Ma hustles into the kitchen with her flailing hands and hugs, and that’s the end of that. ‘Ma,’ I groan, but it’s lost to all the cooing and embracing going on at the island. My mother, quintessential lacrosse mom through all the ups and downs, has never missed a game since May and I started playing in elementary – and being a professor of what she is, she never missed a single boys’orgirls’ game. May got to know her pretty well as our rivalry turned to one-on-ones and pickup down in Eagle Rock, to staying late on the field at Prosperity High, to bets on milkshakes, to bets on dinner. And my mom, of course,lovedMay.
‘It’s so good to see you, Mrs Bradley.’ May’s voice is muffled, crushed by Ma’s shoulder.
‘May, I amsosorry.’ Ma holds May at arm’s length, a little frown on her face. ‘Despite whatever our reckless son does, you’re always more than welcome to come around, you know that. You’d also be more than welcome to take a GWAS class next semester’ – at that, May lets out a laugh – ‘if you weren’t graduating, young lady.’ My mom beams. ‘I’m so proud of you, honey. Andsoglad Colt finally came to his senses.’
Ma’s eyes scream,FINALLY. For everyone else, this fake relationship is about playing along with a lie, but for my parents, it’s very much their dream come true. The breakup at the end of this is going to crush them. And me, to be frank, but I’m trying not to think about that.
With a happy, ‘Let’s go eat,’ my mom sweeps us towards the dining hall, where Rod, Connor, JJ, and Pop are waiting with massive smiles, and Sav with a smirk.
‘May!’ the three of my teammates proclaim happily in various cadences.Naturally.I don’t recall them giving me that kind of cutesy welcome.
‘You made it!’ Rod grins. ‘Glad we get to properly meet.’
‘So am I.’ She sits down and shoots him a smile. ‘The team’s all huge fans. We’re thankful you could drop by.’
‘Likewise,’ chirps JJ.
Sav looks evilly gleeful as she reaches for a piece of focaccia bread. ‘May, I thought youhatedColt. Which, I don’t blame you, but …’
I grit my teeth and clear my throat, glaring at Savannah. ‘My sister doesn’t mean that.’
‘No, I did hate you!’ points out May. ‘We were rivals in every way.’
‘Some weird head-to-head turf war between boys’ and girls’lacrosse at Prosperity,’ Pop says with a nod to the guys. ‘This place is a lax hotbed.’
‘Interesting,’ Connor hums. ‘It’s gotta be kind of nice, though. I’ve lived up on the East Coast all my life. I never thought a tiny town in Oklahoma would be so obsessed with lacrosse.’
‘Don’t get him started,’ I warn. ‘If you provoke Pop, he’ll talk your head off about Prosperity lacrosse history.’
Pop raises his hands in disbelief, but Ma, Sav, and I just shoot him knowing looks. My dad is the original Division One yapper.
‘Well, May.’ Rod fully turns to face her. ‘I know all about Colt’s story. How’d you get into the sport?’
Her face immediately lights up, and I kick myself when I realize just howshitI’ve been doing at the fake boyfriend gig. How can Rod do that in a split second, and I haven’t managed it yet at all?
‘It’s a strange story,’ she begins, as a wistful laugh – one I’d probably give my heart and soul to hear for ever – leaves her lips. ‘My mom wanted me to dance, same as her and her mom before. A very safe pastime. But my father was her polar opposite. He’d ridden bulls in his youth, stopped right before he got married. I was four when I started training for barrel racing. It was everything I wanted as a kid, but soon, I realized I wanted to feel the same thrill my horse got to feel when he ran round the course. I wanted a sport where I could run free and still get to cause a little chaos, and Prosperity was just starting to shape its youth lacrosse programme, feeding into the frenzy of the college leagues. You can guess the rest of it.’
‘She was the captain of the high school lacrosse team. And even then, she’s still been in the annual rodeo fifteen years running,’ someone blurts. That someone, tragically, is me. The implication of my stupidity doesn’t hit me until all the headsaround the table, including May’s, have turned my way. Am I fanboying? I’m fanboying.
