The night before school started, my parents went to a play at the Seattle Rep. Once they’d left, I sprawled out on the sofa and watched a cop movie on HBO. It was okay—a little sex, a little violence, a little mystery. I heard a loud knock at the front door just as this nice-looking girl started to run a bath.
It was Josh. “You feel like going somewhere and getting something to eat?”
I looked back at the television. Some maniac with a knife was creeping down a hallway toward the steamy bathroom. “My parents aren’t home,” I said. “We could stay here and watch a movie if you want. There’s food in the fridge.”
He shook his head. “I’d rather get out, if it’s okay with you.”
We walked up to Robertino’s and ordered cinnamon rolls and mocha. Josh went down to the last booth away from everyone, which wasn’t like him.
“My class schedule came,” he said, pulling out a piece of paper from his wallet and spreading it in front of me.
I looked it over. “I’ve got Ms. Hurley for English too,” I said. “And I’m positive it’s fourth period. But I think that’s the only class we’ve got together.”
He folded the paper up and put it back in his wallet. “Well, one’s better than none.”
The food came. The rolls were sticky-sweet, and the mocha was tongue-burning hot.
“How’s football practice going?” I asked.
He looked toward the street. “Not so good.”
“What’s wrong?”
He looked back at me. “Do you know Brandon Ruben?”
Everybody knew Ruben. He was a big kid, a shortstop on the baseball team and last year’s second-string quarterback in football. “Sure,” I said. “I know him.”
“He might beat me out at quarterback.”
“Brandon Ruben?” I said in disbelief.
Josh shrugged. “He’s been here. He knows the play-book and he knows Coach Canning. Besides, ninety percent of our plays are handoffs to Colby Kittleson. He does that just fine. Last year I was All-League and this year I’m all-bench.” He smiled wryly.
After that neither of us spoke. “Let’s go,” he said as soon as he finished. I stuffed the last bite of my roll into my mouth and followed him out.
The night had turned cold. Salt air was coming in from the Sound and big gray clouds were covering up the moon. We walked back quickly. “Look,” I said when we reached our block, “the first day of school can be confusing. If you want we can go in together. I can show you where stuff is.”
He shook his head. “Thanks, but Canning wants us in the gym at seven every morning to lift weights. And he’s going to post the depth charts tomorrow too.”
We’d reached his house. “Josh,” I called as he climbed his porch stairs. He turned around. “There’s no way Ruben can beat you out.”
“We’ll see.”
“Really,” I said, strangely sure of myself. “You’re better than he is. You’ll start.”
He managed a smile. “Thanks,” he said. “It’s good to know somebody believes in me.”