‘On the road,’ echoes Pop. His eyes cut towards the lacrosse sticks poking out of one of my duffels, and then to the long pieces of kinesiology tape still gripping my knee, just visible below my football shorts. I think for a moment he’s going toask about that, the injury, the last time we saw each other, but instead, he takes a totally different route. ‘House looks just about how you remember?’
‘Oh … well, couldn’t tell you.’ I chuckle half-heartedly. I’d love to say it’s exactly how I remembered, but the memories are like strands of thread I struggle to weave together. ‘What, last time I was here was junior year, right?’
‘Junior year of high school.’ Pop smacks his lips, gazing up at the roof of the house.And here it comes. ‘Everyone else came back, Ceej, I just struggled to understand what kept you up there. Oklahoma’s perfectly nice, isn’t it?’
‘I dunno.’ I shoulder the bag with the crosses and try my best to hide the exasperated sigh that threatens to leave my body. ‘It’s nice, but you guys missed it more than I did. It was kinda obvious, to be honest. Still is.’
It was true. Going away to Boston for Ma’s visiting professorship in Gender and Women’s Studies at the University of Boston itself was a rough adjustment for my small-town family. They hadn’t planned on staying at all. They rented our house out to a couple of college kids for the year, full well knowing we would all be back.
Except after Ma’s year in Boston, when the family moved right back to Oklahoma and reclaimed their beloved house, I stayed behind. Somewhere in the grungy chaos that was New England, I’d found my home for the next four years at U-Boston. I stayed the summer for lacrosse camp, picked up for UB’s Division One team, and I didn’t look back. I was the only one in my family who didn’t come to hate Boston in some capacity.
Savannah, my sister, was a different story – the University of Oklahoma City was basically her dream since day one. Myparents were beyond ecstatic that she’d decided to stay, and, I think, a little relieved.
Now Pop, stubborn as he is, pretends he doesn’t hear a word I say. Instead, he moves on to the next excruciating topic. ‘You know who plays for OKC now?’
I can smell it in the air before he says it. I don’t need him to say it. My cheeks threaten to go red before I can control the reaction. The fucking traitors are already warming up. ‘Where’s Ma at? Sav?’ I ask in hopes that it’ll stop him from going off on this tangent before he’s even started.
Too late. Pop answers my question in two snappy sentences before moving on to his favourite topic. ‘Ma’s in lecture. Sav’s also in lecture. Listen, Colt. Have you been watching her?’
I’ve seen every stat, every match, every highlight, every brilliant play and every not-so-brilliant play. I watched last year happen like it was a semi-truck steamrollering a car in slow motion. And she’s all I’ve been thinking about since I took my dive on the field in August. She’s all I’ve been thinking about since the idea to run home struck me. What I’ll do when I see her again, what I’ll say to her after all this time.
So yeah. No shit, I’ve been watching her.
I say, ‘I guess.’
Chapter Four
Y’all Had Your Moments
May
‘Let’s work behind the crease, ladies!’
Cleats rustle in the grass as midfield and attack line up behind the net for today’s lesson, one we hope will give us some edge when we start our season.
Coach Dillon claps her hands. ‘I want a shot on goal from each and every one of you! Let’s see it!’
I watch as Maddie, in full Mad Dog mode, cradles the ball effortlessly, flicking around the net to land her shot easily. My hands feel slick against my crosse as our coach beckons me forward. I keep my ball steady in the mesh of my stick when I come up from behind the crease, eyes on nothing but the spot I want to shoot into. That exact spot. I won’t let my gaze stray.
And as much as I know it’s just practice, the satisfaction that fills my chest when the ball slaps the back of the net is nothingshort of what I’d feel in a game. It’s got me dizzy. I whoop as the girls howl excitedly. Pre-season is in full swing.
We share a hearty scrimmage after the drill, followed by a slow cool-down session of conditioning. By the end of it all, we’re shucking off cleats like they’re work boots. We love the field, but after practice, it’s a relief to be off it.
‘God, I think I have civic duties tonight,’ Maddie groans, blowing a strand of perfect blonde hair from her face.
‘I think I’m scoopingshittonight,’ chirps Paige sarcastically, earning a grumble of agreement from many of us in the bleachers. She’s our strongest defender, but she, like the rest of us, has every right to be tired of the double life.
‘Don’t get me started on scooping …’
Jordan’s quip vanishes into thin air as she’s stunned into silence, her head swivelling towards the chain-link fence separating the fields from the parking lot way down ahead of us.
‘Jor.’ Maddie gives her a shake, but no response. We follow Jordan’s stare to the empty lot, where a dark blue Dodge Ram pickup truck has made itself at home. Its owner swings himself out of the cab. The hiss of air that escapes my lips, sneaking between my teeth in exasperation, is completely involuntary.
The girls are in a silent frenzy. Huge eyes meet one another as immediate recognition passes from teammate to teammate. Maddie’s the first one to look my way, and she says, in a voice as hushed as a rustle of wind through the tallgrass, ‘Bradley.’
Anyone who’s anyone in this state knows him, which is funny considering he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about this state. Anyone who plays lacrosse certainly knows him. Much of this team idolizes him, so Maddie’s reaction doesn’t surprise me. Jordan stabs an angular elbow into my ribs with a look of shock.
‘He’s back,’ she mouths.
