Page 18 of The Summer of ’98

His mouth was back on mine and he dipped his hand into the band of my shorts just as the sound of the door slamming came from downstairs, Noah’s voice hollering loud and obnoxiously. We both stilled and then Leroy cursed as he stood up and moved away from the bed.

I was disappointed, but I reminded myself that we had all summer. Leroy stood with his hands behind his head, biting his lip as he swept me with his hooded gaze.

“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch,” he chuckled, without the humor.

I sat up and shrugged a shoulder as I ruffled out my wet hair.

That’s not the only thing that’s wet.

“Okay, should we go downstairs?” I stood and blushed at my own dirty thoughts. It amazed me that in the heat of the moment I felt like doing the wildest things. But I still felt nervous otherwise.

“Yeah,” Leroy gestured at the door. “Go ahead. I’ll be down in five when this has gone down.”

I glanced at where he pointed and giggled.

It was about three when we got to the grade school field where a dozen little children were waiting with their parents. There must have been around six or seven boys and girls running around the vast space, tagging each other, throwing footballs, or sitting in the grass. Leroy held a net full of cones and footballs over his shoulder, his free hand intertwined with mine as we made our way toward the group.

“What can I do to help?” I asked.

“If you want to gather the kids and split them into two teams, then I’ll set up the cones.”

“How about I do the cones, and you look after the kids? You’ve met them before?”

He laughed, and when we reached the group of children, he dropped the bag and blew the whistle hanging around his neck. The children gathered in one quick swarm, restless with energy and excitement.

“How’s it going, team?” he said, nodding to the parents in acknowledgment before he looked back at the children. “Eric is sick, Jordan might have mentioned that. No problem, we’ll have a good afternoon, won’t we?”

The kids erupted into cheers.

“That’s what I like to hear. This is Ellie—she’s going to be helping out, so listen to her and be nice. She’s going to split you into teams while I sort the cones. Remember, team one puts the flags on. Understood?”

“Yes, Coach,” the little ones cheered in unison. Leroy strolled backward and winked, leaving me to organize the teams.

“All right.” I felt overwhelmed having a dozen small faces staring up at me. Clearing my throat, I raised my voice. “I’ll give you a number and that’s your team.”

I was about to begin giving them numbers, a simple one, two, one, two, like we did in grade school, when one of the mothers approached me with a kind smile. “It’s easier,” she whispered beside me. “If you hand out the flags. That way they don’t forget their number or attempt to argue so that they can pair up with their friend.”

“That makes so much sense.” I was relieved at her help. “Thank you.”

“No sweat.” She had thick bangs that fell toward her dark-brown eyes. “I’m Maxi Bryan. Let me know if you need a hand at all.”

“I really appreciate that.”

The practice was a lot of fun once I was comfortable. Granted, I didn’t do much except watch while Leroy directed the kids on how to pass and catch, and gave drills on dodging. Watching the children weave through the cones, sidestep, and their obvious delight when they caught a long-distance pass was so fulfilling. Not to mention how precious it was when Leroy crouched beside someone who was having a hard time and gave them some one-on-one direction. He was so patient and attentive.

Practice was almost over when a little girl tripped as she was running toward her water bottle. Her chin hit the grass and her top tooth must have gone into her bottom lip because there was a drizzle of blood running down her chin when she stood up in tears. One of the mothers informed me that the little girl’s mom wasn’t here right now, so I ran toward her and scooped her into my arms.

“Aw honey.” My heart broke at her distressed whimper. I clutched the bottom of my T-shirt and dabbed at her mouth. “I know, I know, cut lips are the worst. Can I please have a little look? Just to make sure that we don’t need to go to the hospital?”

Her gaze widened, her face reddened, and her wail became louder.

“Oh gosh,” I panicked. “I’m sure it’s fine. Can I have a look? Please.”

She didn’t raise her head for me and just continued screaming. I was flustered by all the parents watching.

“Carrie!” Leroy jogged toward us. “What’s going on, kiddo? You been in a bust-up?”

He kneeled beside me and I transferred Carrie to him, noticing his wince as he looked at my blood-stained shirt, not that it was of much concern to me right now. Leroy set Carrie on her feet and kneeled in front of her, gently cupping her chin.

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