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“That’s right,” Blondie answered.
The speaker in a green Hulk shirt nodded gratefully before guiding the other boy in a plain black turtleneck to sit near Blondie, leaving me alone and by myself on my half of the circle.
“Man, this place is way more packed than I thought it’d be,” Green Shirt said.
Blondie replied, “That’s what I was thinking too,” while the silent guy in the turtleneck slumped deeper into his chair, not bothering to talk at all.
I felt even more alone than ever until I heard someone say, “Hey, it’s Damien, right?”
I glanced up to see a face that IthoughtI recognized.
The kid was tall and slim with floppy, dark hair, and he wore a Macklemore concert shirt that I was so utterly jealous of.
Pointing at me, he squinted. “Weren’t we in Little League together?”
It came back to me, then. His name was Hudson, and he’d been one of the popular kids on the team.
I had not.
When I nodded, letting him know I remembered him, he dropped into the chair two down from me with a relieved sigh. “Thank God. I didn’t think I’d know anyone here.” Glancing at me in a commiserating grimace, he asked, “You get forced into coming to this too?”
I nodded.
“Figures.” He sniffed derisively. “Damn parents think they know what’s best. It’s utter bullshit, if you ask me.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, feeling like I’d been invited into an exclusive club, now thatHudsonthought I was good enough to talk to.
As he relaxed back in his chair, letting his legs sprawl out in front of him, I envied his ability to get so comfortable in a place like this. Resting his arm across the back of the seat that separated us, he glanced over to study me a moment before hitching up his chin and asking, “So were you thinking about joining the team again this summer?”
“Uh…” My stomach pitched with dread. Honestly, I couldn’t see myself ever having fun again, playing stupid games, or doing anything that might possibly bring me joy.
As I lifted one shoulder and mumbled, “I don’t know,” he nodded in understanding.
“Yeah. I heard about what happened to you. Sucks, man. I’m not sure if I want to play anymore, either. My best friend was on the team.” Motioning a couple of his fingers at me, he asked, “Did you hear about him? Brett Dunham?”
Now that he mentioned it, I think I vaguely remembered hearing something about Brett’s death, and that Hudson had actuallybeenthere when it happened. As I glanced into his eyes, I finally caught sight of the hidden trauma floating in his gaze.
So I nodded, wishing I knew the right thing to say at a time like this. But I didn’t.
Before I could come up with any response at all, Hudson caught sight of something past my shoulder and furrowed his brow in confusion. “Whoa… Hey! Don’t you two go to the same school as me?”
I turned to find another pair of boys joining our circle, except they looked as if they were trying to sneak over without permission.
“Oh, yeah. Hi,” one of them answered, straightening in recognition as he pointed at Hudson. “You’re Hudson Ivey.”
“And you two are in third grade,” Hudson shot back. “Don’t you belong over inthatcircle?”
“Oh, come on,” the other boy begged. He had super-curly, brown hair that seemed to go everywhere and bright blue eyes. “That group’s just awful. It’s full of allgirlsand only one other boy who won’t stop bawling for his mom.”
“Can’t we just join you five?” the first kid begged. “Please.”
Hudson made a face and then shrugged. “I mean, it’s fine by me, if no one else cares.”
“Go ahead and stay,” Green Shirt spoke up from the other side of the circle. “We won’t rat you out.”
Both third-graders blew out a big breath of relief. “Cool. Thanks.”
And that’s how an adult found us. “Whoa, an all-boys group,” the man greeted with a smile. “This’ll be interesting. And there’s seven of you, huh? What a great turnout. So… I’m Matt,” he started as he sat in the circle with us and settled a clipboard onto his lap. “And I’m just here to guide the conversation. You seven will do most of the talking.”
