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“You make sure you rest now,” Granddad said.
“You make sure you rest now,” I countered back. “I want you front row next week.”
“I’ll be there, don’t you worry about that, boy,” he said. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
I rang off, already noting the effort in his voice, but I had my fingers crossed that he’d be there. We’d be playing at Finley Stadium in Falls Creek, a neutral venue which meant it wouldn’t be too far for him to travel. I smiled at how this was a pressing thought for me now.
With most of the kids dispersed, I made my way to the bus to retrieve my bag. Heaving it over my shoulder, I was about to head for the locker room when I noticed Sierra and her friend standing on the sidewalk.
She’d been business like throughout the game, bossing everyone to take water or sports drink, ever efficient, treating me like everyone else. And although that was good, I realizedI didn’t want to be treated like everyone else.
The day before she’d told me she was sorry. After training, I’d gone into the hallway to talk, hating the awkwardness and tension that had developed between us. I mean, I’d been such a regular visitor to the Huntington house over the years that we’d basically grown up together. Sierra was always there with us, but this thing that happened...the kiss...well, I wanted to say I was sorry for how I acted, butshe was the one who apologized. Said she didn’t know what she was doing. I mean, how do you kiss someone and not know what you’re doing?
I made a bold move—the ice bath could wait, but this couldn’t. I strode over, waiting for that moment when she would notice me and break out into a beaming smile. But there was no recognition because her eyes were firmly closed. Emma’s lips curled as we both heard Sierra sigh and say, “I just want some peace and quiet. Do you know what’d be perfect? Sitting in the hot tub, water bubbling away and eating a whole bag of marshmallows.”
I couldn’t resist. “That sounds pretty perfect to me, too. Do you want me to bring the marshmallows?” I asked.
Sierra’s eyes popped open in horror, and there was an immediate flush across her cheeks and an accusatory glance at Emma. Emma declared her innocence at having anything to do with my presence by raising her palms up by her shoulders.
“Hey, I wanted to say thanks for the good job you did out there today,” I said, quick to jump in before Sierra’s look of daggers was fatal to her best friend.
“Oh,” she said, her face softening with a smile, and it’s like she couldn’t help herself. She launched forward with unrestricted enthusiasm. “Congrats on such a great game. It was so awesome to watch. You and Tenn just clicked. Four touchdown passes was amazing.”
“Yeah, it felt great out there,” I said, loving the way her eyes lit up.
“And Sawyer had his best kicking stats. Everyone was just so pumped. It was fantastic.”
“Must have been because we were all properly hydrated,” I said.
She looked at me with a shy roll of her eyes, like she knew I was over exaggerating.
“Hey, Mom’s here,” Emma called.
Sierra glanced toward a shiny silver SUV and looked back to me with a faint smile, like she remembered we were supposed to be awkward.
“See you later,” I said, though to be honest I wasn’t sure if it was a generic farewell, or whether I was being serious.
Sawyer was getting out of the ice bath as I was about to jump in. His freezing cold hand slapped my shoulder, making me flinch.
“Just for that, I’ll be coming around to soak in your hot tub later,” I said. He laughed, but that was how I tolerated the ice bath, stayed in for an extra minute even, visualizing feeding Sierra marshmallows in the hot tub.
Mom and Dad were going to the Country Club for dinner with a whole bunch of people, including Aunt Hilary and Uncle Tom, who would be leaving tomorrow. I was glad I wasn’t expected to go. Well, the whole team had been told to go home and stay home. Dad said rest and recovery was paramount, that preparation for the final started now, that celebrations and parties had to be put on hold.
I ate my lasagna and salad while Dad gave strict instructions. After eating the protein and carb rich meal, I should do some foam rolling and stretches. I should elevate my legs with an ice pack and massage in some muscle rub, replace my electrolytes, take my vitamins and pain meds. And have an early night. Yeah, a top athlete’s life wasn’t as glamorous as one might expect.
And though it felt good to relax and have some peace and quiet, it would have been good to share that peace and quiet with someone else. Yeah, the temptation to go to the Huntington house was strong. Exceedingly strong. But this was the week before the final and soaking in a hot tub hadn’t been in the recovery plan.
But it could have been. Ice and heat treatments were renown for recovery. Ice slowed blood flow which reduced inflammation; heat increased blood flow and could ease muscle stiffness. Heck, a hot tub would be beneficial.
I didn’t know what type of marshmallows Sierra preferred. And that bothered me. You see, even though I’d known Sierra for years, I realized I didn’t know much about her. Yeah, she liked baking, she had a sweet tooth, she hated fish and wouldn’t eat sushi. Her favorite team was the Green Bay Packers, her best swimming stroke was backstroke, and she’d worn pink Converse sneakers ever since middle school. In fact, she wore a lot of pink, and she looked nice in it. But she also looked good in fluorescent green and the Covington Prep maroon and gold uniform.
I’d turned up to the Huntington house unannounced on plenty of occasions, like the other day after Granddad’s heart attack. It wasn’t unusual I kept reminding myself on the drive over, Sawyer was my best friend, Sierra was part of the Chargers squad. Not weird at all.
Every security light sparked to life as my car inched up the driveway, though the house was dim. Maybe they’d all gone out for dinner, though Sawyer, like me, had been pretty beat. And Sierra had wanted a quiet night in.
Lights in the front of the house went on as I strode up to the front door, and only a second after knocking, it opened, like Sawyer was right there waiting for me.
He greeted me with a rather dry, “Thought it was you.” I’m guessing he knew by the sound of my engine—he often said he had a talent for identifying car engines, but I wasn’t sure what use it was, or what you could do with it. Except to know who was coming up your driveway. Though looking out the window would also do that. “Didn’t think you’d be allowed out.” He mimicked Dad’s voice with overkill, “Go home, stay home, no parties.”
