The bus ride back to school from Camden didn’t take very long since they were going against rush-hour traffic.
Jeff sat near the back of the bus with Danny Diskin, Tavon Washington, and Mike Roth. Ron Arlow was up front, surprisingly surrounded by about half the team. Arlow’s posse had gradually pulled away from him as soccer season wore on; even his friends had grown weary of his “me, me, me” approach to soccer—and life.
But Arlow clearly wasn’t disliked on the basketball team.
The bus pulled up to school at five forty-five. Jeff had told his parents to pick him up at six and it was raining outside. He’d texted his mom when it was clear they were going to be back at school early, but she’d written back that she couldn’t make it before six and his dad was working.
Danny, whose mom was waiting when they pulled up, offered him a ride, but he knew that was way out of their way, so he said no thanks. “I’ve got plenty of homework,” he said. “I’ll just get started.”
His plan was to walk into the gym and sit on the bleachers, but then he remembered that the girls’ varsity game was going on. He walked in anyway, figuring he’d see how they were doing and maybe find out how Andi’s team had done.
Instead, he almost bumped smack into Andi, who was on her way out, walking with someone who looked familiar. It took Jeff a second to recognize him. It was Stevie Thomas, the star kid reporter they had both met during soccer season. What the heck was he doing here?
“Hey, how’d you guys do?” Andi asked.
“Got killed. You?”
Andi smiled. “Same. Jeff, you remember Stevie Thomas?”
“I do,” Jeff said, shaking hands.
“How’s your dad, Jeff?” Thomas asked.
He had an easy smile and, Jeff remembered, a girlfriend who had been an Olympic swimmer.
“He’s fine, thanks,” Jeff answered. “He’s at Drexel tonight.”
Thomas nodded. “Yup. They’re playing LaSalle. Big game for both schools. I’m on my way there right now.”
“Don’t you ever have schoolwork?” Jeff asked.
Thomas laughed. “Oh yeah, I do. But college is different. Lot more flexibility. I only have one class tomorrow and it’s not until eleven o’clock.”
Wow, Jeff thought, that’s a pretty good deal.
Thomas shook hands with Andi and said, “Thanks for the time, Andi. Nothing to worry about, I’m not going to write anything—at least for now.”
He headed for the door.
“What was that about?” Jeff asked.
“Walk me to the door,” she said. “My dad’s five minutes away. I’ll tell you.”
Andi walked Jeff through a shorthand version of the events of the afternoon: beginning with the starting lineup, then the locker room fight, Coach Axelson practically forcing Coach Josephson to put her and Lisa into the game, and, finally, the presence of Barkann and the NBC Sports–Philadelphia crew and Stevie Thomas.
“I guess the only good news is that Stevie says he’s not going to write anything.”
“For now,” Jeff added.
“Yeah, for now. But I’m pretty sure Barkann will air the interview I did with him.”
“But you said you didn’t say anything.”
“I didn’t. But that doesn’t mean he won’t say something about Josephson not talking to him.”
“You’re probably right. You want me to ask my dad if he can get Barkann to go easy—or not use the interview?”
Andi shook her head. “Your dad’s done enough for me and I don’t think it’s fair to ask him to do that.”
Jeff smiled. “You’re probably right. But I thought I’d offer.”
Andi’s phone pinged. Her mom was outside.
“See you tomorrow.” Then, without thinking, she kissed him on the cheek. “You’re a great friend,” she said as she ran for the door.
She pulled the hoodie on her sweatshirt over her head and headed into the rain. The weather, she thought, was appropriate.
Jeff stood stock-still for a moment, rubbing the spot where Andi had kissed him. For a moment, a tingle had gone through him, but then he thought about her words as she went out the door: “You’re a great friend.”
Was that just the first thing that came into her head? Or was she trying to make a point? You are my friend—period.
Probably neither, he thought. The kiss was certainly a friendly kiss, a quick peck on the cheek. He was overthinking it, he thought. As usual.
His phone pinged again. It was his mom, saying she was pulling up to the back door of the school—which was where the gym entrance was located.
Coach C had insisted that everyone dress neatly to travel to another school—no jacket and tie, but a collared shirt and pants. Jeff was grateful that he’d worn the Eagles jacket his parents had gotten him for his birthday, but he wished he had a hoodie to cover his head. It was raining hard and, since it was two weeks before the shortest day of the year, it was pitch dark and cold outside.
He hustled to the car, his mind still on Andi’s kiss.
“Sorry about the game,” his mom said as he climbed in.
“No big deal,” he said. “They were just better than us. A lot better.”
“Who do you play Friday?”
“Chester Heights.”
“Are they good, too?”
“No idea.”
Jeff really had no interest in talking basketball. His mom wasn’t a big sports fan but was always interested in how her son was doing.
“Mom, can I ask you something?” he said.
“Of course,” she said.
“It’s about girls.”
Even in the dark, Jeff could see enough of his mom’s face to know she was surprised.
“Ask away,” she said.
“How can you tell if a girl likes you?”
His mom laughed.
“You mean likes you as a friend or…”
“Likes you,” Jeff interrupted. “As more than a friend.”
His mom was silent for a moment.
“You know, the honest answer is, more often than not you can’t tell.” She was smiling. “When I was a girl and I liked a boy, the last thing in the world I wanted to do was let him know I liked him.”
“Was that when you were in sixth grade?”
“Sixth grade, seventh grade, and all the way through college,” she said. “At least. I never let your father know I liked him.”
Jeff knew his parents had met as seniors in college.
“So how did he know he should ask you out?”
“He didn’t. He took a chance. Of course, if he hadn’t asked me out when he did, I’d have probably asked him.”
That was interesting. Andi had, more or less, asked him to the Halloween dance. Maybe she thought it was now his turn. Or maybe not. He might have to take a chance.
His mom broke the silence. “Honey, is this about Andi?”
The question surprised him—although there was no reason why it should. He had gone to the dance with Andi and they talked all the time. Not to mention how pretty she was.
Still, it wasn’t a Mom question. It was more of a Dad question.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “I guess so.”
“Jeff, you’re both only eleven years old. Give it time.”
“But what if one of the older guys asks her out?” he said. “They’re not eleven.”
She laughed at that one. “Jeff, if there’s one thing I’m almost sure of, it’s that she’s already been asked out by older boys. And I’d imagine if she’s gone out with them, you’d know about it. I’m guessing that Andi’s mainly into her schoolwork and sports right now.”
That actually made sense to Jeff. It wasn’t like Andi spent a lot of time sitting with a bunch of girls in a corner of the lunchroom giggling and talking about boys.
He felt better.
“Jeff,” his mom said, pulling him out of his daydreaming.
“Yeah?”
“You’ll know when the time is right.”
They pulled into the driveway. Jeff felt better. At least he thought he felt better.