Page 54 of Play Book

Schools, doctors, legal forms, the case worker, who would be visiting and keeping an eye on us. There’s a lot. I’m also going to have to talk to a lawyer about the legalities of becoming her guardian.

COACH V: Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. What do you need? How can I help?

CANYON: My sister just died, and I got custody of her eleven-year-old daughter, who doesn’t know me but already hates me. We’re on the plane coming back to L.A., but I don’t even know what I don’t know.

It seems to take him a long time to respond and my gut churns with worry.

Is he mad?

Disappointed?

Ready to kick me to the curb?

I have a contract, but if I can’t play, they have just cause to trade me.

Fuck.

COACH V: Okay, I talked to Autumn. She’s going to help. She and I just went through the whole process of getting my boys into a private school, so she can show you how to navigate that. She also said to come over to the house tomorrow and we can talk. Bring your niece, we’ll feed you and come up with a plan. Okay? Don’t panic. And don’t worry about practice tomorrow. Get your niece settled, try to take a breath. One thing, one day at a time.

Relief floods my system, and I let out a long, steadying breath.

Thank fuck for Coach Vanek.

I glance over at Ally, and she’s staring intently at the screen watching “Frozen.” I recognize the characters, and for some reason I’m surprised. She doesn’t seem the type to still watch cartoons. Of course, I know less than nothing about girls her age.

So far, all I know is that she hates chicken, hockey, and me.

I can deal with her hating hockey and me, but why chicken? It’s a good, lean meat that’s offensive to no one except maybe vegetarians. Which she’s not, because she dug into the steak dinner the flight attendant served like she was starving.

It occurs to me I need to know what kinds of food she likes so I can order groceries, but every time I try to talk to her, she either ignores me or has something snarky to say. That’s going to get old quick. Part of me wants to remind her that I don’t need this bullshit—she can just go back to foster care—but then I remember who she is and what she’s inevitably gone through.

I don’t know for sure, but my gut tells me life with Carly wasn’t easy.

I could have—should have—done more.

Even though Carly cut me out of her life.

Even though she said some hateful things to me before she left.

None of that is Ally’s fault.

I glance over at her, and it’s like looking back in time.

She’s so much like Carly was at that age.

Petite and pretty, with big eyes, straight dark hair that falls below her shoulders, and an upturned nose.

“Hey.” I touch her arm.

She slides a look in my direction before dramatically making a show of pausing her movie and taking off her headphones.

“What?” she asks.

“What grade are you in?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes. “Fifth.”

“What’s your favorite subject?”

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