“Oh, why did you choose that?” I regret my question immediately when Hazel’s lips tip down even farther.
“Everything else was taken. And you don’t have a dog, so…” Monroe shrugs.
“I shouldn’t do it. It’s a bad idea.” Hazel shakes her head.
“No!” Hayes and I say at the same time.
I squat down, placing my coffee at my feet. “It’s a great idea. So, you just have to hula hoop?”
“Mrs. McConnell said that I could probably do some tricks and have fun with it.”
“Tricks?” I ask, my throat closing the more I think about her up there on that stage and the hula hoop not spinning, let alone her pulling off a trick.
I’m not exactly known for my coordination or ability to pick up new things easily. And if she takes after me, then this might be rougher than we think.
“Yeah, we’re gonna look some stuff up. Can she come over, Hayes?” Monroe stares up at him, eyes wide and pleading.
Hayes glances at me, silently asking for my permission.
“Um…”
Before I can answer, Lincoln strolls over, two of his friends flanked on either side of him.
“Hazel… the hula hoop, huh?” Lincoln nods as though he’s impressed.
Hazel looks at all three boys then gives them a small nod.
“Boys.” There’s a warning in Hayes’s voice that says be nice, otherwise there will be consequences.
“We told her at recess that she needs to find someone to help her,” Lincoln says. “And not you. You’re not flexible.”
Hayes’s eyes narrow. “I’m a catcher. I’m the most flexible player on the field.”
“We saw Decker Davis at field day. He beat everyone with the hula hoop, longest spin. Too bad you can’t get him to teach you, Hazel,” a brown-haired boy to Lincoln’s left says.
I feel Hayes look at me from the corner of his eye. I keep my face perfectly neutral, the way I’ve gotten very good at doing whenever that name comes up—which is more often than I’d like in his city, his circle, in the life I’ve built so carefully around the one person I can’t seem to get away from.
“Boys, this is Penelope Ripley, daughter of the manager of the Colts.” Hayes motions toward me.
The boys don’t seem surprised, so I’m guessing either Lincoln or Monroe told them who Hazel’s grandfather is.
“Oh, that’s right,” the brown-haired boy says, stepping forward. “I’m Bodhi Hensley. My dad is the right wing for the Falcons.”
I nod. “Nice to meet you. I heard you went here.”
“I’m Micah. My dad is just a lawyer, nothing fun,” the other little boy says, waving.
“Don’t complain. You at least have one.” Lincoln eyes Hazel.
Again, she turns toward me. I give her what I hope looks like a steady smile.
“Okay.” Hayes claps his hands together. “Let’s get this playdate started.”
I give him a thankful look.
“Wait, can Hazel come?” Monroe asks.
“Um…” Hayes looks at me again.
