Page 5 of Did You See Evie

“Everything okay?” I ask her again.

“I’m trying to get a hold of my mom,” she says, eyes never meeting mine. “She’s not answering.”

“Your mom wasn’t at the game tonight?” I ask, bracing for the answer.

“She had work.”

My mind replays the glorious image of Evie scoring tonight’s game-winning shot, then plummets at the realization no one from her family was there to see it happen. Evie’s home life isn’t the best, but I thought her mother would have made an effort to attend the championship final.

“Tell you what,” I say, bending down so no one can hear. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

“You sure?”

“Not a problem,” I say. “Head out front. I’ll be there in a sec.”

Evie seems relieved that she can stop the frantic texting. She stands, both hands in her pockets. “Thanks, Coach Cass.”

As I turn to follow her, I see Melinda Terry is standing there. I hadn’t felt her beside me.

“I do hope whatever you decide, you’ll include me on the planning,” she says. “It’s difficult enough watching our girls from the bleachers all season. I know the parents would like to be involved as much as possible.”

“I understand that,” I say, softly.

“I’m not sure you do. We all know you’re a local sport star, but you didn’t attend Manning Academy yourself. We do things here a bit differently.”

Again, I grit my teeth, resenting the subtle reminder that I’m not one of them. I don’t need Melinda Terry or anyone else reminding me. I’ve known it my whole life. If it weren’t for my talent on the basketball court, and later from the coach’s seat, I’d never darken these people’s doors.

“It’s my fourth season as head coach,” I remind her. “I’m aware of how Manning Academy operates.”

She smiles knowingly and nods her head. “Very well.”

She walks away and approaches Amber, inspecting her coat before they exit the restaurant. There’s a familiar expression on Amber’s face, one of adolescent annoyance and yet the stark desire to want to please. I can’t imagine what it’s like having a domineering mother like Melinda Terry. Then again, I can’t imagine what it’s like having a mother at all.

As I’m turning to leave, I glance at our table once more. A cell phone sits on the Formica surface. I know it’s not mine or Connor’s, and a quick swipe of the screen tells me it belongs to Melinda: the background picture is one of Amber, taken at their most recent trip to Disney World.

I turn around to grab her attention, then stop, a familiar pleasure coursing through me. Melinda is right. I’m not like her and the other wealthy parents. I come from a different place, a different history, and as much as I try to outrun that origin story, particles of the girl I used to be remain.

In one swift move, I pocket the phone, holding down the side button to turn it off. I exit the restaurant, cherishing the tingling rush of another victory.

THREE

Sprinkling rain creates blurry streaks against the windshield as the car glides through the darkened streets.

Connor flicks on the wipers, but it only causes a bigger mess.

“These damned things are useless,” he says, adjusting the speed. “I need to replace them.”

“Language,” I whisper, reminding him that Evie is in the back seat.

“My place isn’t far from here,” she pipes up. The comment is an offering to Connor alone. I’ve given Evie rides home countless times in the past two years. I could remember the route to her house with my eyes closed.

“It’s not a problem,” I tell her. “I’m still pulsing with adrenaline. I’ll struggle to fall asleep tonight.” I shift, looking over my shoulder at her. “The game was that good.”

As we drive under streetlamps, light cuts through shadows, and I catch a smile on Evie’s face. “I’m just happy we won.”

“It must be a good feeling,” Connor says, trying to be part of the conversation. “Scoring the winning goal.”

“I can’t believe I made it.” Evie looks at me. “Especially after I missed my foul shot.”

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