Page 23 of The Way We Win

I quickly flip the pages, and Kimmie climbs onto a chair beside me, standing and putting her hand on my shoulder so she can see.

“I like poetry!” she says.

“You do?” I glance at her. “What poetrydo you like?”

“Horton Hears a Whoand the Grinch andGreen Eggs and Ham…”

“Dr. Seuss is narrative poetry,” Edward says flatly.

“You still saidpoetry,” Kimmie argues.

My lips twist, and I tilt my head side to side. “I think that counts.” I hand the small book to Edward. “Read this and tell me what you think—it’s called ‘Wild Geese.’”

Kimmie hops out of the chair beside me and goes over to the one beside him, climbing up and scanning the page as he reads silently.

Her little brow lowers, and she looks up at me. “Daddy says I have to be good. He says I have to do what you and Aunt Deedee say and not talk back.”

She’s referencing the first line of the poem, which is,You do not have to be good.

“It meansperceivedgoodness,” Edward says. “Not doing what you’re told.”

“That’s right, Edward.” My smile is warm. “I’m surprised you picked up on that. It’s a sophisticated concept.”

“I like it.” He hands the book to me again. “I like how she describes the animals.”

“I have a place in my family!” Kimmie blinks up at me earnestly.

It’s the last line of the poem, the wild geeseover and over announcing your place in the family of things…

“Yes, you do.” I walk over to put my arm around her. “You both have very important places in your family, and Mary Oliver says you also have a place in the world.”

Kimmie’s eyes go to the book again, and she nods. “So you shouldn’t be lonely.”

“That’s the hope.” I give her a squeeze, and she smiles proudly. “Now, let’s go check on your dad and the boys playing football. We’ll finish sorting these books tomorrow.”

My strategic brain is working hard on this new box of books. I’ve found high school kids to be surprisingly open topoetry. Or maybe it’s not so surprising, considering how emotional and fiery the age can be.

“Maybe we can have a favorite verse contest,” I think aloud. “Or maybe we can combine it with art or music.”

Edward and Kimmie continue into the hall, and I turn to survey the large media center once more before locking the doors. School could start tomorrow, and we’d be ready.

The “blind date with a book” shelves are in the left corner, and large, flatscreen computers are arranged on tables down the center of the room. Perhaps the right wall can be our poetry area.

A smile curls my lips, and I think Edward is right. It’s a welcoming space, and students like to hang out in the media center during lunch and after school. It might be a low paycheck, but I get a lot of satisfaction from this job.

Kimmie takes my hand, skipping beside me as we walk out to the football field where the boys are practicing. It smells like fresh-mowed grass, it’s so hot, but thankfully there’s a breeze. Back home in New Orleans, the hot, wet air doesn’t move.

“I’ll tell Daddy about the wild geese,” Kimmie says, skipping along beside me. “Maybe we can read it at bedtime afterDogzilla.”

“That sounds fun.” I picture the two of them reading together at bedtime.How adorably swoony is that?

A sharp whistle draws our attention, and the noise of plastic pads crashing greets us as we approach the field.

My smile fades when I notice Austin isn’t in the quarterback spot as they line up. The new boy Levi is there, and Austin’s expression this morning makes sense to me now. My stomach sinks, and I hate to think Jack would demote him.After all their hard work?

“Uncle Grizzlaay!” Kimmie takes off running to her oversized uncle, and he bends down to scoop her onto his back. “Hey, Peanut. How’s it going? Hey, Al. You good?”

He lifts his chin at me, and I do my best to hide my feelings.

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