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“I am,” I tell him. “My younger sister wants to go, so my mom is making me watch her.”

He grins. “You could have just pumped me up and said you wanted to see me play.”

“Fine,” I reply. “My sister doesn’t want to go, and I’m only coming to see you play.”

His smile flashes for the second time in an hour, and it’s got enough force to punch a hole through my stomach.

Is he flirting? Am I?

I really don’t know.

Whatever it is, though...I like it.

After eight weeks without my bike, the ease of getting home is a revelation. I’m pretty sure it’s in better shape now than it was before the Kendalls destroyed it.

And never once, during the short journey, did I worry about how I’d explain that it’d been fixed, but I should have.

“You’re home early,” my mother says from the stove.

I freeze in the frame of the door. “I biked. Someone fixed it.”

“Fixed it?” she asks. “Who?”

“I don’t know,” I reply. “Maybe whoever vandalized it felt bad.”

She frowns. Even she, with her endless capacity to see the best in people, finds that difficult to believe. “I was going to get it to the shop,” she finally says. “It’s just been so busy here.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She continues to frown. “And you really have no idea who fixed it?” She holds my gaze as if she’s looking straight into my soul.

I’ve been telling her so many small lies since we arrived here and today, they’ve turned into big ones. It’s a slippery slope. It’s what they used to all say about Mary Joyce, and they were right. She began sliding just as I am now, and her descent took on a life of its own.

Then again, my mother’s been claiming she’d get my bike fixed for eight weeks. So, I’m not the only one who’s been a little less than truthful.

“Not a clue,” I reply.

“Don’t forget you’re taking Hope to the game tonight,” she says, her brow arched as if this is a punishment for me.

I’ve never been more excited about football in my life.

Hope is an embarrassment. She’s too young to even be ashamed of the depth of her crush, but every time Nico catches the ball, she’s on her feet, cheering for him by name, her eyes as wide and luminous as someone watching a miracle in progress.

I’m probably nearly as embarrassing. I know nothing about football, but Ford’s assuredness on the field makes me light-headed. His body moves with this agility and confidence I can’t even imagine, and his focus is absolute.

I think of an Emerson quote I’ve always loved—if the stars should appear but one night in a thousand years, how men would believe and adore. That conversation with Ford yesterday and discovering today that he’d fixed my bike...those are my once-in-a-thousand-year stars. Maybe Hope thinks Nico is hers.

Alex and Theodore come sit with us for the second half of the game, and they talk animatedly with Kappy about homecoming, which takes place next week and is the only topic that makes Hope take her eyes off the game for a moment.

“I don’t understand,” she says. “Is it a game or a dance?”

“It’s both,” says Theodore, looking at her a moment too long. I lean forward a little, blocking his view of her. I know she’s cute, but no high school senior should be checking out a thirteen-year-old. Not that she’s noticed. She’s already staring at the field again with this grief-stricken look on her face.

“What’s the matter?” I whisper.

“He’s going to take someone else, isn’t he?” she asks, watching Nico and so upset I don’t let myself laugh, though it’s crazy when she’s never even met him. My eyes dart from Nico to Ford, who’s got his arm cocked back, all laser focus, looking for someone he can pass to.

I’m not the only girl here who’s watching him, I’m certain. I guess I understand Hope’s distress, as crazy as it is. I’d never be allowed to go to the dance with Ford, but I’d be heartbroken if he took someone else.