Page 14 of The Game Is Afoot

“How’s it going, brother?”

Leon is the reason Pearl not only jumped the waiting list, but made it onto the most coveted team, the only one in the league that Cole coaches himself—parent volunteers run the rest of theteams, which I’m sure Hank wishes Axel was on so he could have full control of his budding professional career. Before he transitioned into pediatrics, Leon was a nurse at the orthopedic center Cole frequented, and they became fast friends during his weekly visits. It was no question that Langston would be on his team, and I’m pretty sure Jasmine planted the seed that Pearl should join, too, just so she could have me to gossip with on the sidelines.

“What are your thoughts on this ref?” Leon asks, and my dad quickly jumps up from his chair, his knees popping, to complete their huddle.

“He’s fair, he’s fair,” Coach Cole says, finishing off his energy drink with another big gulp. He pulls out a new can from the pocket of his shorts. “And I already gave him the heads-up on the diving, though we’re starting to see it with a lot of players. The kids see it on TV and want to try it, too.”

“And you checked his birth certificate?” Leon gestures across the field to the Blue Badgers. “Because that eight-year-old’s got a thicker mustache than me!”

“Yeah, it was legit,” Cole confirms with a sigh.

My dad leans in. “You’re sure it wasn’t doctored?”

I roll my eyes at Jasmine as I sit down in our chairs next to Jack, avoiding eye contact with Bethany. “I swear my dad’s about to call his private investigator buddy to get a background check on this poor kid.”

“I caught Leon looking up his parents on Facebook last night, like he could confirm his date of birth that way. They need to chill.” Jasmine laughs and rolls her eyes, too. “And what number energy drink is that man on? I swear he’s going to have a heart attack one of these days.”

Jack pats my leg, and when I look at him questioningly, he tilts his head back to the men. Coach Cole is looking right at us,his eyebrows, with two notches shaved into each side, lowered over narrowed blue eyes.

Whoops.I turn to Jasmine, hiding my burning cheeks, and she presses her lips tightly together.

Florence jumps in front of us before I can decide if we should apologize.

“You’re still bringing the snack, right, Mavis?” she asks, and then looks around dramatically, her hands hooded over her eyes. “I don’t see Corey yet?”

The game doesn’t start for twenty more minutes, lady, so why don’t you chill the fuck out?That’s what I want to say. But instead I just smile. “He’ll be here.”

“Actually, there he is, right there,” Jack says, and I follow his gaze to see Corey walking up. He has on a cool camp shirt with a bright, abstract print, black shorts, and Ray-Ban Wayfarers, with his neon chair strapped to his back. And yep, there’s the snack in his arms, so you can settle down, Florence. Except…

I jump up and speed-walk to meet him.

“You got Capri-Sun.”

“Yep,” he confirms with a dimpled smile, but it quickly falters. “Okay, but why are you saying that like I bought them beer…?”

“Did you read Florence’s guidelines?” Did I send them? I’m pretty sure I sent them. If only all these stupid extracurriculars would send things to both parents, instead of just assuming the mom is the default.

“It’s one hundred percent juice! And I got orange slices and Goldfish, too. The rainbow ones Pearl likes.” Defensiveness is quickly creeping into his breezy tone. “Why are you making that face like these are not normal soccer game snacks?”

“I’m not making a face.” I am totally making a face. “But it’s just—there are…expectations. Like, last week, Florence andHank brought charcuterie boxes for snack. Do you remember that?”

“Char-whaterie? Wait—you mean the Lunchables they passed out? Well, if you had told me you wanted those, I coulda thrown them in the cart at Target instead.”

“They weren’t Lunchables. Hank cured the prosciutto himself.” He announced it like a million times, to make sure everyone knew. “And each kid’s number was carved out of sharp cheddar from that organic farm in Irvine, plus the dried figs…”

I trail off in the face of Corey’sreally?look because okay, they were basically Lunchables. JustbougieLunchables.

“Why does it matter? The kids will love these—ourkid will love these. And isn’t that the point?” He holds up the box of individually packaged rainbow Goldfish, and I wince, remembering Florence’s thoughts on food dyes.

I sigh. “Did you bring the enrichment bags?”

He sighs right back. “Yes, I did. Even though I think goody bags at every game is ridiculous.”

And he’s not even wrong. I think they’re stupid, too. But it’s like that damn elf last month. Corey got one for his place, because Pearl was very concerned she wouldn’t also be surveilled for Santa there. Except he just had it sitting in different places, like appearing on the refrigerator the next day was enough. Iwantthat to be enough. I think giving us a whole ’nother part-time job in December is ridiculous when our plates are already so full. We have no choice but to be more creative than that, though, when these other parents have the things building zip lines and writing poetry or painting theMona Lisawith candy canes. You gotta do the same or Pearl is going to question why her elf hates her and then that’s only a short jaunt to why she doesn’t deserve love.

“Are these up to standard?” Corey asks, holding open a bag with bubbles and a plastic fidget toy.

I don’t even have to be the bad guy, though, because supervillain Florence has caught up to me. “Oh. Cute.”

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