Page 45 of Lovely War
I focus on the cracks in the sidewalk and wonder how many I can step over while maintaining my normal stride. “It was awful.” One. Two. Three.
“You were right, and I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I can’t stop thinking about it, honestly. It’s so different from the way I remembered it, and it scares me a little, that my perception was so wrong.”
Three cracks seem to be the maximum. “He has a way of showing different sides of himself to different people based on what he needs. It’s one reason he’s so good at his job.”
“I know we don’t see eye to eye on Coach, so I don’t want to dwell on this. But I’ve always had the utmost respect for him. He gave me so much, and I’ve always wanted to be like him. To be able to lead a team, to support kids who need it, the way he did for me. But it makes me sick, what happened to Phil. I don’t know what to do.”
I stop counting and look at his face. It’s gentle, contrite, vulnerable, anxious. But I don’t know what that last part means. There’s nothing he can do about it now. He can’t go back in time and fix Phil’s Achilles.
We pass a house that still has its Christmas decorations up, red and green lights flashing in a neat row of evergreen bushes. “Don’t try to be like him. You’re better than that.” Ineed to leave it there, because this conversation is fragile, capable of disintegrating with the slightest clumsy touch. “Why are you still at Ardwyn, anyway? You want to coach.”
“I’ve always wanted to coach,” he says, with a sad smile. “I didn’t realize it would take so long.”
“There are schools other than Ardwyn, you know. I know we were brainwashed to think otherwise. But I’m sure you can get a coaching job somewhere. I think you’d be great at it.”
“Wow, that’s two nice things you’ve said to me in the last ten minutes.”
I poke him in the shoulder. “Don’t expect a third.”
We wait for the light to change. His nose is pink from the cold. His hair is so much better like this, messy.
“I probably will leave eventually. When the right position opens up. My plan has always been to stay until my sister graduates, so I can look out for her while she’s here. Go to her meets when they don’t conflict with our games. Assuming there is a gymnastics program next year, of course. When I leave, I’m sure I’ll have to leave Philly, and I won’t be able to do any of that from a distance.”
“But that’s four more years, and you’ve already outgrown your job,” I protest.
He shakes his head. “It has to be the right time,” he says firmly. “Can I ask what brought you back here?”
I purse my lips. “I heard from somebody else on the bandwagon that the team was supposed to be good this year,” I deadpan.
He nudges me with an elbow. “Really, though.”
“Turns out when you develop a pattern of bouncing aroundevery eighteen months, potential employers question whether you’re worth the investment,” I say. “Eric helped me out. If I can’t make this work for a few years, I don’t know if I’ll ever get hired anywhere again.”
I can feel him looking at me, and I don’t know what he sees. His competition. My desperation.
My apartment building comes into view. The strawberry string lights are twinkling in the green room.
“I still don’t understand why you left basketball—”
“Speaking of jumping on the bandwagon,” I cut him off, opening my bag and picking through it to find my keys, “I saw your bracket tonight. I didn’t realize you hopped on the Brianne train. I’m going to take full credit for that.”
He laughs. “Nope. She’s been a beast in the challenges so far. And she has a lot of chemistry with Logan. Did you notice they have the whole witty banter thing going?”
I want to make fun of him, but it wouldn’t be fair because yes, I did notice. “She makes him seem slightly less boring.”
“He’s not like that with anyone else. That’s why I’m picking her.”
“Okay, we can go with that answer.”
“It’s the truth!”
We stop at the short brick walkway leading to my front steps. “We better quit while we’re ahead. Congratulations to us. We made it through an entire conversation without arguing.” I raise my hand for a high five.
He obliges. But then he surprises me by tugging on my hand and pulling me in for a hug. Two people hugging with our heavy winter coats between us is a bit pointless, since it feels more like wrestling a down comforter into the duvetcover than an actual human embrace. But for a moment my face settles in the warm crook of his neck and he cups the back of my head with his hand—and, god help me, I’m starved for affection, because I think about it all the way up the stairs.
THIRTEEN
We lose to Blake. There’sstill a long way to go, but I can’t help but worry about the bar for saving the athletic department—a national championship—and after the way we played today, it feels impossible to reach. After the game, I find an empty seat on the bus and slouch against the window, staring up at the concrete façade of the unfamiliar arena. My phone buzzes with texts from Taylor and Jess back at home, brainstorming for content now that we don’t have anything celebratory to post.
