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“Hi Mrs. Mercer. How’s Mr. Stanhope doing?” I blurted out, keen to show my good manners.
“He’s doing great,” Mrs. Mercer said, ushering me in. “Come on through to the kitchen. I’ve got some beef stroganoff cooking. I’m getting some meals ready for the freezer, it’s going to be a busy week.” A warm, spicy aroma filled the room where two big pots were bubbling away on the stovetop.
“Smells nice,” I said.
“One of Cullen’s favorites, full of protein, and I add extra veggies for vitamins, bell peppers and carrots,” Mrs. Mercer said, making me wonder if the whole family was obsessed with nutritional content. “I’ll be able to defrost it and cook up some noodles and voila! Super easy.”
“You’re really organized,” I said.
“It’s going to be madness,” Mrs. Mercer said with a cheeky grin, like she wouldn’t have it any other way. “Sit down. I’ll get you a drink. What would you like? Hot cocoa?”
I tried to speak but Mrs. Mercer didn’t let me get a word in. One pot of stroganoff was for her parents, but that didn’t have the extra vegetables in it because Mr. Stanhope didn’t like bell peppers. She also had an apple pie in the oven, and she was about to mix up some peanut butter protein bars for Cullen’s after-workout snacks. Sugar-free and full of protein and the good seeds that were rich in antioxidants.
Mrs. Mercer was like an octopus, one hand stirring this, another mixing that, while checking the oven, chopping up things and making me a hot cocoa in the process.
“Thank you,” I said as she placed a cup and a freshly baked cookie in front of me. “Uh, I just came to bring back Cullen’s towel and swimming shorts.”
“Oh, you’re a sweetheart, though no need. I’m sure he’s got another pair.”
“These are delicious,” I said nibbling on the tasty chocolate chip cookie, adding casually, “Has he gone out?”
“He and his dad went to the gym earlier. And then to throw the ball around.”
“Sawyer’s having a rest day,” I said. “I don’t think he’s even gotten out of bed.”
Mrs Mercer sighed heavily. “I do think Cullen works too hard. He never stops. I wish he’d learn to ease up on himself.”
I nodded, clamping down on my lower lip, but only for a second. I hadn’t come here for this, but I couldn’t help myself because it seemed that Mrs. Mercer didn’t know the full extent of things. My words came rushing out, unrehearsed. “Coach was really mad that Cullen came over last night. He just soaked in the hot tub to help his aching muscles,”—yes, I felt the need to justify it—“and he and Sawyer were so tired, they just fell asleep, and I didn’t want to wake Cullen so I left him on the couch. It was my fault that he didn’t come home.” Mrs. Mercer blinked rapidly, her face scrunching up in confusion, giving me the confidence to carry on. “I’m sorry if I got Cullen into trouble, but...it wasn’t his fault.”
The timer rang, sending Mrs. Mercer scuttling across the room. She placed her hands into silicone mitts and removed a steaming pie, filling the room with a sweet cinnamon smell. She placed it on a cooling rack and slowly took off the mitts. She seemed distracted by the design on the pie.
“Uh, I should get going,” I said, sipping the last drops of cocoa. “I was going to stop by Emma’s house.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Mercer said as if she’d just bumped back to reality. “Let me pack some cookies for you. I know Sawyer likes these.”
“Oh, you don’t have to,” I said, “I’m sure Coach and Cullen will eat—” But I stopped in my tracks, because the sweet chocolatey treats weren’t part of Cullen’s diet. And Mrs. Mercer knew that.
She bundled way too many into a box while I took Cullen’s towel and swim shorts out of my backpack and laid them on the table.
“Thank you,” I said as Mrs. Mercer handed me the box which I carefully stowed in my backpack.
“Thankyou,” she said, “for all the good work you do for the team. You’re an absolute gem, and we couldn’t do without you.”
“Fingers crossed for the final,” I said, my left hand doing just that and holding them up, “though the boys have trained hard all season for this.”
“Absolutely,” Mrs. Mercer said, and her hands clutched mine like she was uniting us in prayer. “You’re right. This is the result of all their hard work. Now, it’s a matter of which team is best prepared for the game.”
“Yep,” I said with a giggle, “and hopefully it’s us.”
Mrs. Mercer saw me out, and I biked away slowly, kind of hoping Cullen would return, but no such luck. I texted Emma that I was on my way over, and she played me the new piece the band had been learning for the game.
The band, the cheer team and the players were having new championship shirts printed and already the hype was beginning. In four days, Cullen would lead the Chargers to their first state championship final appearance, and I hoped the pressure of the moment wasn’t going to weigh him down.
Not wanting it to be weird about the container full of Mrs. Mercer’s cookies, I came clean and made a loud, pointed announcement that Mrs. Mercer had invited me in when I dropped off Cullen’s gear, that the cookies were for Sawyer and that neither Cullen nor Coach were at home. I made numerous mentions of all the teams supposedly getting new outfits for the final.
“Yeah,” Sawyer said, finally lured out of bed by the call of dinner and the promise of cookies. “Coach sent a photo of the design.”
“Can I see it?” I asked, full of hope that perhaps that’s what Cullen had been doing today—designing shirts and not traipsing up mountainsides with bags of rocks.
