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“I’ll go.”

Sadie stood with me. “I want another drink.”

Rook leaned forward. “Y’all—”

Sadie pointed at him. “Don’t.”

His grin widened. “—want me to go?”

“No. You’ve done enough.”

“That sounded ominous.”

“It was gratitude.”

“Couldn’t tell,” Rook pointed out.

“Work on your emotional literacy.”

We squeezed past knees and bags and headed down.

Beneath the stands, every footstep rang through the aluminum.

The concrete walkway ran past the concession windows, bathrooms and a service corridor farther down.

The concession line was longer than I expected.

Sadie took one look at it. “I no longer want a drink this badly.”

From down there, the game became mostly sound.

Crowd. Whistle. Announcer.

Except everything landed in the wrong place.

A shout from the field seemed to come from somewhere behind us. Someone laughed at my left and the sound bounced ahead.

I glanced over my shoulder.

Families. Teenagers. A little boy eating something violently blue.

Normal.

We got the napkins and two waters and headed back.

Instead of climbing immediately, we stopped near the rail.

Sadie opened her bottle. “You good?”

“Yeah.”

A whistle blew directly to my left. I turned.

Nothing.

The nearest official was halfway across the field.

I frowned.