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Her head whipped over, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. “Really?” she whispered.
“Sure. I can just … stand there in the hallway, if it’ll make you feel better.”
Sage nodded frantically. “Yes, it would. I kinda feel like I’m going to puke.”
“Then I definitely vote for this option.” I tilted my head toward the building. “Come on, let’s do it, kid.”
The hallways were pretty quiet, and only one teacher stopped us to ask who I was, but as soon as I said my last name, she smiled, giving me a lingering look before sending us on our way.
Sage snorted.
“What?” I asked.
“She was totally checking you out. She’s not married,” Sage added helpfully.
“You trying to set me up?”
“No way. If you got married, we’d have to move out.”
At the decisive answer, my lips edged up in a smile. “No need to worry about that, kid. Marriage is about the furthest thing from my mind. I’d never find someone who could put up with me anyway.”
“My mom does,” she said slyly.
“Your mom is my friend,” I told her. “There’s a difference.”
“True.” She paused, pointing out one of the doors across the hall. It was cracked open, soft music playing from inside. “That’s it.”
“Got your notes?” I asked.
She nodded, then sucked in a huge breath. After pulling them from her backpack, she shoved the thing at me, which I caught before it hit the ground. The purple sparkly straps really went well with my work boots, and I hooked it up over my shoulder.
“Speak clearly,” I told her. “You’ve done all your research; you know what you’re talking about.”
Again, Sage nodded, but the motion was a little jerkier this time. I held out my fist. She tapped it lightly with hers.
“I can do this,” she whispered.
“Go kick some ass.”
Her grin was quick, then she edged her chin up and marched toward his door. Firmly, she knocked, and a deep voice said to come in.
So that I could hear, I walked closer and leaned a shoulder against the wall. A custodian walked down the hallway, eyeing the backpack on my shoulder.
I managed a smile. “I’m with … she’s in there.”
He nodded, then kept on his way.
“Mr. Collins? I’m Sage Keaton. I was too late to sign up for the U10 flag football team in the fall.”
“Sure, I remember. What can I do for you?” The sound of shuffling papers punctuated his pause. There was a beat of silence, and I tapped my thumb on my thigh. “Sage?” he prompted.
She sucked in a deep breath. “Ithinkyoushouldletgirlsplayontheindoorteam.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed because the only reason I understood her was because I knew what she wanted to ask.
The coach cleared his throat. “I, uh, didn’t catch that. You think what?”
“Th-this winter,” she stammered. “I think, umm, I think you should have girls, you know, I think … well, there’s a f-forty percent increase last year to this year, and umm…” Crinkling paper had me imagining the way she must have had a death grip on that note from her backpack. “Shoot, I smudged that line,” she muttered. Her voice went up an octave. “B-but I think it, umm, said how many high schools are adding it as a varsity sport.”
