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And then, almost in slow motion, Kristal’s hand lifts. Even before it moves towards August, my motherly instincts are going haywire, alarms blaring in my mind. The second it lands and I register she’s patting my son on the head like he’s a freaking dog, I stiffen. “See?” she croons, reeking of superiority as she tosses a haughty look at her friends. “Was that so hard?”
It all speeds up after that. Smugly satisfied, Kristal starts to walk away, towards her tittering buddies. I wonder just how much trouble I’d get in for rugby-tackling her to the ground and showing her how achilddefends her child by giving her a noogie. And August…
Oh, August.
He opens his mouth and I just know this isn’t going to be good. “I’m sorry,” he starts, expertly dodging the hand I attempt to clamp over his loose lips, “that you’re a bitch.”
Like we’re in a sitcom, there’s a round of gasps. Horrified, shocked faces and hands pressed flat to chests. Plenty of silent judgment of my parenting, I’m sure.
And… laughter?
“Fuck, Krissy.” All gazes flit to the woman perched on the bleacher closest to us, at dangerous risk of falling off considering how hard she’s cackling. “Burned by an eleven-year-old. Is that a new low for you?”
It’s oddly comforting whenKrissyregards the mysterious blonde with as much dislike as she does me. “Stay out of this, Luna.”
“Sorry.” Teeth glint as Luna, whoever she is, flashes a predatory smile. “Those words aren’t in my vocabulary.”
Decidedly confused, I wrack my brain to try to place the somewhat familiar woman I think is maybe kinda defending me as she rises and strides, no,glidestowards us, perfectly curled hair freaking fluttering in the wind. The closer she gets, the clearer her downright devious smile becomes, and when she props the sunglasses shielding bright blue eyes atop her head and winks at me, I decide I don’t care who she is. When she comes to a stop beside me, sighs, and drawls, “Give it a rest, Kristal,” I decide I kind of love her.
Maybe it’s my imagination, or maybe I’m a little drunk off my awe of this Luna woman, but I swear Kristal shrinks just a little. Cheeks red, she backs up but not without tossing a final threat mine and August’s way. “Wait until the coaches hear about this.”
“Oh no,” Luna calls after Kristal’s retreating form, amused in a way that makes me feel like I’m missing something. “We’re shaking in our boots.”
An elbow digging into me draws my attention sideways.What just happened?August’s wide-eyed look seems to ask.I have no idea, mine responds.
“Jesus Christ,” the woman I kind of, possibly, maybe, want to kiss right now huffs. “She’s a real piece of work, huh?”
I don’t think August and I have ever looked more alike than we do right now, speechless and blinking in unison. “That was so cool,” my boy blurts, earning a laugh.
“August, right?” Winking again, Luna gestures at the piece of borrowed equipment August still clutches. “I hear if my kid gets lice, I have you to blame.”
Understanding dawns as the kid in question suddenly appears at his mother’s side. Internally, I slap myself on the forehead. “You’re Isaac’s mom.” Of course, she’s Isaac’s mom. Jesus, the parents around here really just print carbon copies of themselves, don’t they?
“Luna Jackson-Evans,” she formally introduces herself. “And you’re Izzy’s teacher? Sunday Lane?”
I nod, smiling despite the weird nerves fluttering in my belly. “Thanks for the helmet.”
Luna waves me off. “Don’t worry about it. Izzy forgets his at least twice a month, that’s why we have the spare.”
“It's pink as punishment,” Isaac pipes up, earning a narrow-eyed stare from his mother.
“It’s pink because you like pink. Lying is for losers.”
Tan cheeks may flush but Isaac narrows his eyes right back. “Rob Barrett said pink is for girls.”
Luna scoffs. “Rob Barrett has no friends.”
“I’m his friend.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
“I like pink,” August, bless his little heart, butts in.
Isaac cocks his head. “You do?”
When August nods, his new friend grins. When he turns his dimples on me, I brace. “Ms. Lane, can Gus come get an ice cream with me?”
If I thought my kid’s puppy dog eyes were something special, they’re nothing compared to Isaac’s. And the combined force of the two of them? Trouble personified.
