Page 35 of The Friend Game

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” I assure her, even though my butt is killing me. “The kids were just having fun.”

“I suppose,” she sighs. “It’s just hard having the wild kid sometimes, you know? Especially since he’s a scholarship student. People are already predisposed to label him as a troublemaker.”

“Zach is a scholarship student?” I ask in surprise.

“You didn’t know?” She laughs. “Did you not notice that there’s a tear in that lawn chair you’re sitting in? No regular Grace Canyon family would ever hold onto something torn like that.”

There’s no unkindness in her tone, she’s simply stating the truth. Just the other day I witnessed Jill throwing away a purse with a tear in it. And when I say purse, I mean Gucci handbag. And when I say tear, I mean a small rip in one of the inner pocket linings. And when I say I witnessed her throwing it away, I mean I intercepted it and claimed the bag as my own.

“Well, I haven’t been at the school long,” I tell her, “but so far Zach has been a great student.”

“Thanks.” Sheila smiles. “Zach really isn’t much of an artist, but he told me he really enjoyed your class this week.” She glances towards the field, her eyes landing on Zach who is high-fiving his teammates. “He’s really blossomed here. We were so excited when a scholarship spot opened up for him this year, he’d been on the waitlist for one since kindergarten.”

“Waitlist?” I turn confused eyes on her. “There’s a waitlist for scholarships?”

“Oh yes.” She nods. “There’s a waitlist for the school in general, but the scholarship waitlist is longer.” She pauses. “Or at least it was before this year. Pastor Abbott really pushed to increase the number of full ride scholarships available, and that was what got Zach in. Financial aid is easier to get, but not many families here apply for that.”

Well, that’s just great. So the chances of Caroline getting into Grace Canyon, let alonegetting in on scholarship, are slimmer than her mother’s hips.

The kids are starting to make their way over to the sideline, and I focus in on Luke, following behind them, the mesh bag of footballs all the kids just cleaned up slung over his shoulder. I wonder idly if I could tackle him. Sure would be fun to try.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sheila peers at me. “Your eyes look funny. I hope you didn’t get a concussion.” She bends down and stares into my eyes. “Your pupils do look dilated.”

“Oh no, no,” I hurry to assure her, blinking my eyes rapidly in a haphazard attempt to reduce her suspicion. “I don’t have a concussion.”

“Concussion?” Luke has reached us by now, and instantly zeroes in on the word. “You think she has a concussion?” He looks down at Sheila, ignoring my protestations.

“I’m not sure. I didn’t see if she hit her head when she went down.” Sheila chews her lower lip. Luke is looking at me with concern. Normally I’d enjoy seeing him worried about me, but seeing as he’s the root cause of my dilated pupils, I just want the attention off me.

“I think she did hit it,” another parent pipes up, because now all eyes are on me. “I can call my husband if you’d like, Pastor Abbott,” the woman adds. “I’m sure he’d be happy to perform a neurological exam on her.”

Oh my word! I can see it now:Doctor, I swear my brain is fine. My pupils just dilated because I was fantasizing about jumping Pastor Abbott.

“Thank you for the offer, but I’m sure that won’t be necessary.” I can’t keep a note of hysteria out of my voice. Do the scans neurologists run detect that kind of thing? Surely not. “My head feels fine, honestly. Besides,” I add with a stroke of inspiration, “my insurance hasn’t kicked in yet, and I’d hate to pay for a neuro exam out of pocket. Thank you, though, for the offer.”

“Oh hun, Ken wouldn’t charge you,” the woman hems. “We’d consider it a welcome to Grace Canyon present.”

Wow, a free neuro exam to welcome me to Grace Canyon, that is so…actually I don’t know the right adjective for that. Is there a word that means both sweet and creepy? Sweepy? Creet? Weird?

Yup, weird is the adjective I was looking for.

Even weirder, the free part actually tempts me. We Garzas can’t resist the word free. Even Jill, with all her money, will still jump at the chance to get something for free. I blame our mother, who used to take us garage saleing in the summer, but only ever let us choose things from the free bins. Cheap shopping, she called it.

“So should I call him?” she asks a little impatiently, then sighs as she eyes the time on herphone. “Wait, he’ll be watching the game right now. Can you wait a few hours?”

I’m jolted out of my always-say-yes to-free-stuff haze. “No, really, I’m fine. I don’t want to interrupt your Saturday for nothing, but if I do have any other symptoms of a concussion I’ll be in touch.”

She studies me for a second, then looks over at Luke. “You okay with that, Pastor Abbott?”

You okay with that, Pastor Abbott?An indignant squeak slips from my lips at the suggestion that it’s his decision whether or notIneed a neuro-exam.

“Not my call,” Luke says, but I see a muscle in his jaw twitch. He’s really worried about me. So worried he wants me to take this woman up on her offer.

“Lu-uh, Pastor Abbott,” I fumble his name, my cheeks pinkening at almost having addressed him so casually in front of all these Grace Canyon parents, “I promise, I didn’t hit my head. But just to be safe I’ll hang out at the Bernard’s for the afternoon so they can keep an eye on me.”

“Aunt Hannah, can we go now?” Ellie appears at my side, Mia following in her wake. “Mia has to go to the bathroom.” Luke, whose mouth had been opened to respond, rubs his brow and steps back.

“Are you driving Lexie’s daughter home?” my neuro-exam-offering friend quickly jumps in, her tone accusatory. “Because I’m not sure Lexie would be comfortable having someone with a brain injury drive her daughter home. Perhaps I should take Mia home.”

---