Page 16 of The Game Is Afoot

“That’s Dom Dwyer, the facilities manager here at Brady Park. He’s got some beef with Cole. Well, clearly.”

“Beefmeansfight,” Derek adds.

“Mm-hmm, and these men are too big to be fighting like this at a children’s soccer game.” Jasmine nods her head toward the scene unfolding. Coach Cole appears to be screaming, though his words are muffled by the mower, and Dom is gesturing toward his headphones with a look of mock concern on his face—basically the adult version ofnah nah nah boo boo.

“Well, for the record,” Leon continues, “Cole has done everything by the book. When he decided to expand the league year-round, he checked with Beachwood’s director of Parks and Recreation first, to make sure it was even a possibility to use Brady on Saturdays through the winter. It’s nothisfault Dom didn’t reserve the fields through the official channels. Cole tells me he had no idea Dom used the park for his capture the flag rec league in January and February.”

“Let me get this straight.This”—I gesture toward Coach Cole, who is now stomping his foot like Axel did earlier as Dom revs his engine in a show of dominance—“is all because Cole stole the fields from him? And now Dom can’t teach kids how to play capture the flag?”

“I think the capture the flag is for adults, actually,” Jack says, and Leon nods. “Derek and I drove past once, last year. It looked pretty intense.”

“You know, Bert told me about that!” my dad says, snapping his fingers. “He played one season right after he retired, but when he came home with a split lip and dislocated shoulder, Vera made him quit. Couldn’t even go to the awards banquet.”

“Okay, my bad. So this is all because Coach Cole is stopping Dom from playing extreme capture the flag? Why can’t he just move to, like, Sundays?”

Dad’s eyes go wide. “Sunday is seniors Tai Chi. They areveryterritorial.”

Leon nods, his eyes also wide in…fear? And now I have so many questions about these seniors, but Leon continues, “Dom’s had an informal agreement for a long time, I think, but Coach Cole was willing to pay a huge rental fee. He could afford it because, well—” He holds his hands out toward the six fields of kids that’ll stay packed until the late afternoon. “Anyway, Domlost the park, had to pause his league indefinitely. It’s gotten pretty contentious, from what he’s told me.”

Itlookspretty contentious. Coach Cole is standing as close to the mower as he can without losing a toe, jabbing an angry finger in the air, while Dom leans back, arm over the back of his seat, legs wide. Even with no words, it’s clear whatthatsignifies: dominance.

Suddenly Coach Cole whips around and is stalking back. As he makes his way to the center of the field, he’s red-faced, with his fists tight at his sides. He pulls the metal whistle around his neck to his mouth and blows. It sounds like defeat.

“I’m sorry, folks,” he yells, struggling to be heard over Dom’s mower, which is now moving toward the toddler field. “We’re going to have to cut this game short because of, uh—a miscommunication with the parks department. We’re tied, so we’re going to call it a draw.” He looks to the ref, who nods in confirmation.

Some kids groan, but most of them are already eyeing the snacks on the sidelines. Pearl is bouncing excitedly with her Gatorade on the bench like they just won the World Series…or whatever it is they play in soccer. It’s mostly the parents acting like Coach Cole announced that soccer as a sport is canceled for the rest of eternity. Hank is shaking his head in disappointment like he somehow expected this from Cole, like he has been betrayedpersonally.

We do the mandatory lineup of high fives. The kids mumble, “Good game, good game, good game.” And as a mob of concerned parents circles Coach Cole, the kids run back to the sidelines to get their food and goody bags. Florence passes out Corey’s offerings with a look of apology and mild disgust in her eyes, but the Aquamarine Alligators are delighted with their reddye 40 Goldfish and ocean-destroying-plastic fidget spinners—which just makes Florence’s face twist even more.

“Good game, my Pearl girl,” Corey says, picking her up and twirling her around.

I pat her back. “Yeah! You really, um…hustled!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pearl says, waving that away. We both know I have no idea what “hustling” actually entails. She points toward Dom and the mower, the next field over. “That thing is cool. Do you think he’d let me ride on it?”

“Baby girl,” I say, arching an eyebrow to communicate the rest:be serious.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Coach Cole walking back to the sidelines, leaving a crowd of angry parents huddling behind him like they’re plotting the next Ides of March. Cole picks up one of his energy drinks that he abandoned before, but when he shakes the can, he sees that it’s empty. His whole body seems to deflate in sadness—even those thighs.

“What if—what if I asked really nicely?” Pearl asks, bringing me back. “And saidplease?”

“Um,” I say, and Pearl jumps up in excitement as if that was aHell yes!

“Thank you, Mommy! I’m going to tell my friends!” And she’s off before I can get another word in. Corey and I lock eyes and laugh. I remember one of her preschool parent conferences, before everything was officially over between us. We talked about how stubborn she could be, never trying new foods, never putting on the pants I picked out, never sleeping in her own bed if she decided it wasn’t a sleeping-in-her-own-bed night. It was exhausting. That wassomethingCorey and I could agree on, at least.Let’s reframe that as something positive, her teacher insisted, though.She’s persistent.That’s a quality that will serve her really well as an adult.And afterward in the car, before we surely gotinto another fight, we just sat there and marveled in silence for a moment over ourpersistentlittle girl. I wonder if he’s thinking about that now, too.

There’s a creak behind me as Jack folds up my chair, and it pulls me out of my memories. Behind him, disappointed-looking Purple Platypuses are crowding together, probably wondering if they’re going to get to play. I don’t see Dakota—or Bethany, thankfully. Maybe they already gave up and went home.

Cole paces past us, ignoring the searching looks of the Platypuses, sucking down a Capri-Sun like it’s a beer at the end of a long day. I snort-laugh at the sight of Florence eyeing him as if him choosing the Capri-Sun is a personal attack on her.

“Good job with the snacks,” I tell Corey, and he smiles. “Oh yeah?”

Pearl is back in between us, and she’s dragging Langston with her. “Okay, Langston, we’re going to ask the guy if we can take a ride. My mom said it’s okay.”

“Oh, did she?” Jasmine asks with a smirk.

“I don’t think it mattered what I said.” I lean down and put my hands on Pearl’s shoulders, preparing myself for the battle that’s going to be getting her out of this park without hopping on that mower for a joyride. But before I can begin to present my case, loud gasps erupt around us.

“Oh my god!”

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