Page 106 of A Pretty Fixation

We bump fists, and he heads out with Nichole aftershe waves to Jordyn and me.

Noah walks back into the yard and comes over,asking Jordyn, “What’s Scarlett’s number?”

“No,” she says firmly. “Let’s help clean up.” Hewhines about Scarlett while following her around.

Starting to feel discomfort in my ankle, I limp tothe garden bench and relax, setting the crutches aside.

My phone vibrates in my jeans pocket soon after.Taking it out, I scowl at the unfamiliar number.

I consider ignoring the call, but my gut convincesme otherwise. It is my birthday, so perhaps someone is calling to wish me well.

“Hello?” I answer in a question.

“Caleb Rosmond?” a gruff voice inquires.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“Jeff Leslie. I’m the manager at New England Revs.I watched the clip sent to my email.”

Oh shit.

My heart starts to sprint.

Wait. “Your email?” The onlyhighlight reel I have is on the college’s website.

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “The young lady requestedthat if I was impressed, then I should call you today. It’s your birthday, isit?”

“It is, sir.” I glance at Jordyn, laughing atwhatever Noah is telling her.

“She mentioned your injury,” Mr. Leslie continues.“Sorry about that. But your performance speaks for itself. The clip was quiteconvincing, so much so that I contacted your coach at Delham to learn more.”

I’m letting everything sink in while trying toremain calm. But holy shit. Is he saying what I think he’s saying?

“Listen, kid. I know talent when I see it, andyour skills are immaculate. How about we meet in the coming week? We’ll discussthe recovery length of your injury and get you into training camp next summer.”

Shock grips my body. “I’m sorry, you want me atthe Revs training camp?”

Mr. Leslie chuckles. “Yes, Caleb. Everyone hereagrees that we can’t pass on a player like you. We want you in the club.”

“Oh shit—I mean, thank you, sir.” I comb over myhair, beyond ecstatic. “I can’t believe this.”

“Well, believe it, kid. Set up a convenient timewith Rose. She’s the secretary. See you next week. Happy birthday, son.”

“Thank you, sir. Thank you so much.”

He ends the call, and I straighten too fast fromthe bench and almost stumble.

“Whoa.” Dad hastens over. Mr. Davis is behind him.“What is it, son?”

“Dad, the Revs want me,” I laugh out.

His eyes glisten as he grips my arm. “Theycalled?”

“They called! They want me in the club.”

“Congratulations, son!” He embraces me, laughingas he pats my back. “That’s wonderful news.”

“Indeed,” Mr. Davis adds, shaking my hand once Dadeases away.

---