After the game Danny’s mom took him and Janey to the Pecos Diner on the edge of town. The gravel lot was filled with pickup trucks and SUVs, and as they entered, a wild applause broke out. When Luann, the owner, spotted them, her face brightened and she showed them right to a corner booth that had just been cleaned off. Luann wore her bleached-blonde hair stacked up high. She was a heavyset older woman with thick makeup and a deep southern accent.
“Everyone’s talking about the game,” she said, handing out menus. “I’m sorry I missed it. You’re the touchdown king, right? Just like your dad, they’re sayin’. Oh, I’m sorry, kiddo . . .”
Danny just pretended not to hear the last part and answered, “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Five touchdowns.” Danny’s mom swept a hand across his hair.
“You sent those rich kids right back to where they came from. That’s what I like.” The owner splayed bright red fingernails across her chest. “You all have your supper and then I want each of you to have a piece of pie on the house. That’s the least I can do.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“You might like the banana cream. I made that this mornin’ myself.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And manners too.” Luann raised her painted eyebrows before winking at Janey. “You hang on to this boy is what you do.”
Janey blushed and cast her eyes on the menu. “Uh-huh.”
“Shirley!” the owner yelled, drawing everyone’s attention and startling a young waitress in a brown dress uniform. “You come take these folks’ order. We got us a football star here. And bring a fresh bottle of ketchup.”
Danny heard murmurs of approval around the diner and felt equal measures of pride and embarrassment. He kept his chin up, but he didn’t look around at anyone. Their supper came promptly. Danny had a heaping plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes smothered in gravy, which he quickly devoured. After the pie, his eyes began to droop.
“Now we’ll get you home for a nice bath and a good night’s sleep.” His mom yawned herself. “You earned it.”
“I wish,” Danny said.
“Why’s that?” his mom asked.
Danny pointed to the clock on the wall. “I got Ms. Rait at seven thirty.”
“Don’t fool with me, Danny.”
“I do. Tell her, Janey.”
Janey looked down again. “Yes, ma’am. He does.”
Danny’s mom sputtered and fumed. “I saw her at the game. You’re exhausted. You played your heart out.”
Danny had to admit that he was enjoying this. “She doesn’t care. That’s what she said.”
“But not like that,” Janey said. “She said it nice.”
“Not to me,” Danny said.
“You know, she’s sitting right over there.” Janey pointed toward the front. “I saw her and Mr. Crenshaw when we came in.”
Danny secretly stole a glance and saw the back of Ms. Rait’s head. “After she dropped you off at your house last night I swear she turned into a witch, said she didn’t care about football.”
“There’s no cause to say that,” Danny’s mom said sharply. “I’ll just talk to her on the way out. We’ll get it fixed.”
“I’m tellin’ ya.” Danny shook his head.
“She’s new here.” Danny’s mom raised a piece of pie on her fork. “She saw you play, all those yards, everyone standing to clap when you came off the field, and in here too. I’m sure she gets it now.”
She popped the pie into her mouth and gave him a wink.
Danny hoped it would be that easy, but he had serious doubts.