Page 70 of The Game Plan

“Where’s your little friend?”

“Who?”

She looks at me like she can’t believe how stupid I am. “Your friend. The one you kissed last week in front of your entire family. Did you know that Aunt Carol asked me how long you’ve been together, and I didn’t have anything to tell her?”

“Oh.” My cheeks heat up. “Sam is around. I’m going to see her later for a party.”

“You should invite her to dinner,” she tells me.

“Maybe another time,” I suggest. Or maybe never.

“We should head out. I’m sure you’re hungry,” Dad says.

We had a quick dinner after the game and snacks on the road, but it’s not the same as sitting down to a full evening meal. Travel days are always rough on my schedule.

The drive to the pub is short and sweet. My parents don’t mention the game at all. Ashley’s at a sleepover with a bunch of her cheer teammates, and Mack is at home, studying for a history test on Monday.

“She’s just so swamped this time of year, the poor duck,” Mom says. “She’ll be at the game next week.”

“Oh, she doesn’t need to come. Actually, nobody needs to,” I say, and they blink at me. “I’m not playing.”

“I thought it was just today? A problem with your lower back again,” Mom says.

“No…” I look at my dad, who shrugs. He didn’t tell her. “I had a… disciplinary issue off the field. I’m resolving it, but I’m benched for a few weeks. Until they straighten everything out.”

Mom’s eyes are sharp. “What kind of disciplinary issue?”

“I might have, um…” I fiddle with my menu. “I punched a guy.”

“That’s it? You punched someone?”

“Another athlete. Not someone on my team. But, well, we were on campus, and I was wearing a Newton shirt, so now the school is involved…”

She can’t believe it. I’ve gotten into plenty of scraps, not-so-friendly tussles with the neighborhood boys, but I’ve never gotten into a fight before. I’m not the fighting type of person. I prefer to let the cruel words roll off my back than take action to confront it. I’ve heard it all before. Bullies are a dime a dozen in my hometown, little kids thinking they’ve got big britches. Being twice their size didn’t keep them from running their mouths about me. If I did anything about it, I would be fingered as the aggressor because of my size. It’s a lose-lose situation.

“I broke his nose,” I admit. “He deserved it and more, I stand by what I did, but I got caught, so until we have a hearing, I’m on the sidelines. So you don’t need to come to the game next week.”

“We come to see you, honey,” Mom says.

“Yeah, well…”

“Bring your friend to dinner next week,” she says, flicking open her menu, even though we come here every week and she always orders the same thing.

“I’ll ask her,” I finally agree.

“Have you been dating long?” Mom asks casually.

“A week. We had our first date on Thursday. I cooked dinner for her.” I clear my throat. “I know it’s soon, but I really like her. I wasn’t trying to hide anything. I just don’t want to spring the entire family on her all at once. There hasn’t been anything to write home about until recently.”

“Understandable,” Dad says, clapping me on the shoulder. “She makes you happy?”

I nod.

“Then I’m happy for you, son. Treat her well.”

“I intend to.”

Our waiter takes our orders—I only order one entree instead of two, since I didn’t play, and sure enough, Mom orders her usual chicken curry pot pie—and we relax into silence.

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