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“What camp?” I inquire.
Everyone looks at me, but Beck is the one who answers. “It’s for kids at the football academy I attended. We do a weekend clinic once a year. It’s next Sunday.”
“They trust you to teach children?” The words are out before I think them through.
Erika doesn’t fully manage to hide her smile behind her water glass. “We’re always looking for more volunteers, if you’re interested, Saylor.”
“Oh, um, I don’t really—I’ve never coached anyone before,” I reply.
Sophia pipes in with “If Adler can manage it, I’m sure you can.”
Yup, totally set myself up for that.
I surprise myself by saying yes. Lancaster’s soccer teams had to attend a youth clinic last year, but it was more a PR stunt for the university than anything. All we did was pass out water bottles and set up cones.
“Wonderful,” Erika says.
“You play football?” Karl speaks for the first time since Sophia’s tour.
“Yeah, I do. You?”
“No. I’m more into music. I have a band.”
“Do you play an instrument?” I ask, in an effort to be polite.
Beck sighs beside me. At first, I think it’s in annoyance; but when Karl launches into a twenty-minute description of his skills on guitar, his talent writing songs, and his lofty musical goals, I realize it was with dread. This is obviously a soliloquy the Becks have all heard before. Even Sophia looks bored.
After we finish eating, Sophia darts inside and returns with a familiar cardboard box.
“A board game?” Beck asks skeptically.
“No one invited you to play, Adler,” Sophia says.
Hans and Erika rise to clear plates, and I start to as well. “We’ve got them,” Erika says, flapping her hands toward me in a motion to stay seated. “You kids have fun.”
“There’s nothing fun about Clue,” Beck mutters.
“It’s Saylor’s favorite game,” Sophia states.
He looks to me. “It is?”
I nod, then shrug. “I like mysteries.”
“Fine, I’ll play.” Beck sighs.
I don’t miss the way Sophia glances between us, and I know she’s misreading Beck’s agreement. She sets up the board, deals the cards, and then we start to play. Despite his initial complaints, Beck is not the least enthusiastic player at the table. Karl has him beat by a mile. I guess all of his cards by my third turn, mostly because Karl keeps flashing them at me. Either he truly has no idea how the game works, or it’s his attempt at flirting with me in front of his girlfriend.
Beck navigates Mrs. White, known as Frau Weiss in the German edition, out of one room, and I let out a long sigh. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
He glances at me. “I just did.”
“But it did happen in the Conservatory.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“How do you know?” I reply.
“Because I have the card, so I know you’re just messing with me.”
