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The ball is hiked, he starts his motion and his foot connects with the ball. Sure enough, it flies through the uprights as the clock expires. I hang my head as people pat me on my shoulders and tell me good game.
Good isn’t enough. Not in my book. I want to win. I want the city to be proud of their football team. I want players to want to come here, to play here and make our team stronger and that isn’t going to happen if we don’t start winning.
After giving the other team congratulations, I head to the bleachers where my family is waiting.
“Good game,” Paige says, even though she doesn’t mean it.
“Did you watch, Little B?”
She shakes her head and shrugs sheepishly. At twelve she’d rather read, shop, and pretend that she isn’t crushing on Mack Ashford.
“Tough loss,” my dad says as he reaches out to shake my hand. “The clock–”
“Yeah, coach said the same thing. I’ll work on it.”
“Well, I thought you were great,” my grandmother says.
My dad and I look at her and shake our heads. “You’re supposed to say that because you’re my grandmother.”
She waves her hand dismissing both of us. That’s one thing Bianca Westbury doesn’t do, she doesn’t sugarcoat. I love her, but she has no filter. I think that is why she and my mom get along so well. My mom doesn’t hold back either.
We like to give my mom a hard time about how she reacts. During the game, she cusses like a sailor and threatens bodily harm if she feels like I’m not being protected. But when she’s talking to me, she’s sweet and syrupy, telling me that everything is okay. My dad calls her the Jekyll and Hyde of sports mothers. My grandmother is the same.
“I’ll meet you guys at the hotel. I need to shower and go pick up Dessie.”
After a quick team meeting and a shower, I’m home and walking into the arms of Dessie. She’s usually at my games unless she has to work. She spent the last week in Costa Rica shooting a spread for a swimsuit catalog that will be out this spring.
“Sorry about the loss,” she says into my shoulder. I breathe her in and am instantly relaxed. “Was it because I wasn’t there?”
Oh how easy that would be. I laugh and pull away from her. “No, just wasn’t our game to win,” I tell her. “Are you ready to go to dinner with my family?”
She nods, but her enthusiasm doesn’t exactly meet her eyes. Dessie is convinced that my mother doesn’t like her. I tell her that she’s just being silly and that my mom loves everyone. I have never asked my mom if she likes Dessie or not and figured that if she has a problem with her, she’d say something. I don’t bother telling her that my mom isn’t here today because that might give her a false sense of security. Bianca Westbury’s wrath is ten times worse than my mom’s.
The hotel that everyone is at is only two blocks away from my apartment, allowing us to walk over. If it isn’t my name being called by the people we pass, it’s Dessie’s. Rarely can we go out around town without someone noticing either of us. I guess it’s a good thing when you think about it, and honestly, it’s something I’ve been used to since I was about ten.
When we arrive, Paige opens the door. She’s crying and one look at my dad tells me something is really wrong.
“What’s going on?” I ask, causing my father to stop his frantic packing.
“It’s Peyton.”
“What about her?” I ask, reaching for my grandmother as she brushes past me with Betty Paige’s bag.
“She was in a car accident, Noah. Harrison says they don’t expect her to make it. We have to go to Chicago.”
“Wh-what?” I ask, swallowing hard. My tongue feels thick and foreign in my mouth, while my stomach rumbles.
My dad shakes his head. “I’ve called for a chartered flight. Your mom… they’re on their way from the Bahamas now on the band’s plane.”
“Harrison?”
“Chartered a flight with Elle, Quinn, JD and Eden. They’re all coming.”
“I’m coming with you,” I say. My dad doesn’t say anything because he already knows that is where I need to be.
“Noah?” Dessie says my name quietly. I look at her and she shakes her head. “We have plans.”
I close my eyes and process what she’s saying. “My best friend has been in an accident. I have to go to her.” I look deep into Dessie’s eyes, looking for any sign that she understands what I’m saying.
“…It’s always about Peyton.”
She’s right. It is. She’s all I’m going to think about because this can’t be happening to her. It’s all I can think about as I storm out of the suite when I was ten and my uncle Mason was killed. This can’t happen to Elle and Katelyn, not again.
