I shrug, mumbling something that resembles, “I dunno.”
“Worst of all, you’re bailing on studying,” Aunt Maddy says, heat rising in her voice. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Do you want me to say I messed up?” I raise my voice at her. “Soccer is the one thing I’m good at. I just wanted to feel good about myself for one moment on this crappy day.”
Aunt Maddy’s demeanor softens, and she runs the back of her hand against my cheek. “Why? What happened today?”
I groan and look away. “This whole week has been crappy.”
“But you understand why you have to take your classes seriously?” Aunt Maddy asks.
I huff and give her a massive eye roll. “Yes. I’m not brain-dead.”
“Jamie, I don’t need this right now,” Maddy says, her skin growing red. “You know I have to put in a lot of hours before I leave for Hawaii. I need to finalize a menu in two days, and I’m running out of time fast.”
I pout. “I’m sorry to be such a nuisance to you.”
Maddy gives an exasperated sigh and points to a table. “Can you please just do your homework?”
My shoulders slump and I lazily turn around. “Okay.”
As I scuff my way to the table, I hear Aunt Maddy say behind me, “I just feel like it’s all my fault, Brent. I’ve never asked her to do her homework before. I didn’t expect her to be a smarty-pants, but I thought she’d at least coast through.”
“Hey, it’s a big deal becoming a guardian. You’re doing your best. Plus, you two have this business on your shoulders. Trust me, you’re kicking butt.”
“Thanks,” Maddy says with a happy sigh. “Can I get you a coffee?”
“I’d love one,” Coach replies.
Thirteen
Thankgoodnessit’sFriday.And I’m out of a classroom! Although I’m stuck teaching Milo, AKA Mr. Hopeless-Case, how to play soccer. At least I’m out on the field. I hate being cooped up inside all day. Why can’t they mix it up and have English or history outside now and then?
Milo is getting out of his head. His class assignment in phys-ed is next period. If he can just remember to let his body do the talking, he might stay coordinated enough to get a good grade. I’m sure it’s only a pass/fail grade, but if he continuously trips over his own feet, I don’t see him passing.
“Do you feel more confident?” I ask with hope.
Milo stops the ball and his shoulders slump forward. “When it’s just you and me, I feel less awkward. But just thinking about being in class, around the other guys, and my teacher’s eyes scrutinizing me, it freaks me out.”
“You’re always telling me not to freak out with my classes. What has you so spooked about this one?”
Milo shrugs. “Years of history.”
My stomach wobbles. “But you feel okay around me?”
He smiles, and the sun sparkles against his glasses. “Yeah. I don’t know why.”
I rub behind my neck and smile at the grass. “Oh.”
“Crap,” Milo hisses.
I look up to see his horrified expression. “What is it?”
Milo’s eyes focus behind me, and I watch his throat constrict as he gulps.
I turn around and almost lose my balance as Coach Anders strides toward us.
“Are you serious, West?” he says in an I-mean-business tone.
