Nate sets off toward the food, and I look around the backyard. Even though the grill is smoking, there doesn’t seem to be anyone maintaining it right now, nor can I see Coach Mackenzie. Micky and a few of the defensemen are to the side, setting up some sort of game with a wooden board and hand bags. I squint at them, trying to see better.
“Cornhole,” Max says quietly.
“Pardon me?”
“The game.” He gestures to Micky, who tosses one of the bags and hits the board with an audiblethunk. “It’s called cornhole.”
“Oh. Perhaps because there is corn inside of the bags? Or do you eat corn when you play? What are the circles representing—different points?”
Laughing, Max turns to gaze around the yard. “I’ll teach you how to play later. Want to try and find Coach?”
We find Anthony Lawson first, or rather, he finds us. With a smile, he gives Max a long hug that I approve of, before moving to me and hugging me as well. Surprised, it takes me a moment to return it.
“Hello, Coach Lawson, how are we doing today?” I ask, feeling the vibration of his laughter against my chest. He steps back and claps a hand on my shoulder.
“Vas, buddy, you can drop the ‘coach.’ That was three years ago. I’m not your coach anymore, I’m just your friend.”
I try not to look too pleased at that, and fear that I fail. I’msaved from having to formulate a response by the appearance of Coach Mackenzie, who walks up next to Max and puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. Lawson beams at the sight of him, as though he hasn’t seen him in days.
“Max. Vasel. Glad to see you could make it. Have you eaten yet?”
“Not yet, sir. We just got here. Sorry, we were a little late,” Max replies, glancing at me. “My fault.”
“We’re just happy you came.” Lawson waves the apology away easily. “Go get something to eat, and come find me if you need anything.”
Max and I grab plates and find an open spot on the deck to settle. It’s a beautiful day, warm and sunny; perfect for a backyard barbecue. Suddenly inspired, I pull out my cellphone and take a picture of my teammates scattered around—some playing games, others sitting on the grass or chairs, eating. I text it to Atlas, who responds almost immediately with a single word:gross.
Smiling, I put my phone away. Across from where Max and I are seated, Nate is chatting to Lawson with a pleased, excited look on his face. Beside me, Max sighs and leans back on his hands.
“Time for bed,” he mutters after we finish eating, making me chuckle. I glance over at the food table, which is still relatively full even after being attacked by a hockey team.
“Coach Mackenzie is going to be eating leftovers for a long time, I think.”
Max snorts, eyes closed and face tipped upward into the sun. I’m just opening my mouth to ask him how he’s feeling when a soft, small voice interrupts me.
“Who are you?”
Max and I turn around to find a small child standingbehind us. He’s got a head of unruly curls and glasses held in place by a strap around the back of his head. He looks between Max and me, squinting suspiciously.
“Goodness,” I say, glancing at Max. Does one of our teammates have a kid? “Where did you come from?”
“Hi, I’m Max.” Max smiles and points at me. “And this is my friend Henri.”
“I’m Caleb. You guys are being loud.”
At the cornhole game, someone chooses this moment to let out a scream of frustration that is closely followed by laughter from the team that apparently just won. I nod solemnly.
“Yes,” I agree with Caleb. “My apologies.”
He thinks about this for a second, quietly chewing on his lip and looking between us. Apparently coming to a decision, he turns to Max. “Do you like to color?”
“I do,” Max replies. “How about you, Vas—Henri?”
“I think I should like to color, yes.”
“All right,” Caleb holds out a hand to Max, waiting for us to climb to our feet before leading us inside. Before we can step through the back door, he turns and regards us seriously. I have never met a child so stern. “You can’t make a mess. If you make a mess, Uncle Nico might get hurt.”
“We will not make a mess. I promise.” I glance over at Max, unsure what to think of this warning, but he doesn’t meet my eye.