“It is if you’re dating him.” Rachel’s expression was so serious that I wondered if I had crossed a line I’d never seen. “You know, Amy. You bend over backwards for Chris, playing by his rules and puffing him up. If Jared treated me like Chris treats you, I’d tell him to take a hike and run over his cell phone to make sure he couldn’t retrieve my number. There’s no way he’d be getting smiles, let alone cheers.”

  This time I did roll my eyes. “Rachel, you’ve been dating him for…” I consulted my watch. “Twenty-six hours give or take thirty minutes, depending on if we’re counting from when he slid into the booth or when he told the sales guy you were his girlfriend.”

  “Not the point. You may not know immediately if someone’s going to treat you well, but sometimes you know pretty quickly if he treats you poorly.”

  I sat there for another moment, waiting to see if she’d expound, but knew where she was going from experience. When she turned her attention back to the guys playing ball, I brushed off the skirt and joined Thomas sitting on the stairs.

  “Why aren’t you playing?”

  “It still makes them nervous, you know… that I’ll stop breathing.”

  He looked so grown up for a moment, so old and tired, that it just about broke my heart.

  “How long’s it been since the last time you stopped breathing?”

  The childishness flashed again in a bright smile. “Almost a year.”

  Tom glanced at the guys on the lawn playing rough and tumble, a deep martyrless sigh slipping past his lips. “I know it scared them, so you know, I don’t even ask to play.”

  If this is what it was like to be part of a big family, this heartbreaking, heart-growing feeling, I’d had no idea what I’d been missing all those years.

  “You know, you and I could kick the ball back and forth. I’m not as good as the guys, but I won’t tackle you and scare them.”

  “I’ll get a ball!”

  Before I could kick off my shoes, he was in the house and yelling for his mom to find an extra ball. That might be hard since the weird game the guys were already playing seemed to involve five balls that were used for kicking, carrying, and tossing. Not to mention bombarding each other with. I watched them while he was inside—trying to decipher the rules—and learned something fairly quickly.

  There were none.

  Or, none anyone outside the Parker man-clan could decipher. The turmoil continued with the guys shouting scores and rules broken, calling for replays and do-overs. They generally seemed to be in agreement except for the typical male-induced scuffle that went with the trash talking you saw in any sport.

  “I’m ready.”

  At the door, Tom stood with a football, a soccer ball, two mitts and a baseball.

  I couldn’t have even held them all at once, let alone do a catch-throw thing. “You know we can’t use those all at once, right?”

  He glanced toward where his brothers played their convoluted game, and asked, “Really?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. That’s a boy game. Girls play one game at a time.” When his face fell, I added, “So do athletes. I mean, you don’t see Michael Phelps playing frisbee while he swims, right? It’s all about the focus. Like running.”

  He pursed his lips and nodded. “Yeah, those guys have no focus.”

  “Want to join us?” he asked Rachel, using those Parker-mama manners.

  “No thanks. I’m more of a sidelines girl than an actual team member. But I’ll definitely cheer you on.”

  Tom looked up at me and grinned. “She’s going to cheer us on. How cool is that?”

  It was very cool—for the first ten minutes. And then the very cool cheering turned into cheering Tom and mocking me.

  Little by little, the brothers drifted our way. Their game merged in and around us until they swept Tom up in it, playing more carefully but making sure to involve him.

  Trying to suck me in too, Justin threw me one of the footballs and shouted, “Blue line two. Four points! Four points!”

  Whatever that meant.

  It’s a good thing I was better at catching than throwing. I still found myself walking the ball back if it was more than a chaise lounge length away. Between the throw-fails and the scowls still directed at me from Luke, I was done being one of the guys and joined Rachel on the porch.

  Only, that was unsafe territory too. Rachel and Mrs. Parker were setting the table and lighting tiki torches along the edge of the deck while Mr. Parker set out the hamburgers.

  “So, Amy,” Mrs. Parker began as she handed me a stack of silverware. “Rachel tells me you joined the soccer team because of a boy.”

  It was way too rude to glare at Mrs. Parker. Rachel, not so much. So, glare I did.

  “Well, not exactly because of him. I mean, the stats girl position has always been a coveted spot in our school. You have to know someone to get it.”

  When put like that, I could even convince myself it was just a smart social move.

  “It’s better than being on the cross-country team?” Mrs. Parker asked.

  From most adults I would have taken that as one of those leading questions that makes you admit to some horrible life mistake that will affect you to the grave. But Mrs. Parker was too sweet for that.

  “It might not look better. But, to be honest, I never really felt like part of the cross-country team. The girls were kind of cliquey.” I glanced over at Rachel, surprised she wasn’t jumping in with some Dr. Phil type comment. “Last year there were a couple seniors I’d run with, but they’re all in college now. So, it wasn’t a big deal to leave. Running’s always been just for me. I can always do road races if I get bit by the competitive bug.”

  “As long as you’re doing what you want,” Mrs. Parker answered in that mom-voice. “I don’t see any reason not to grab every opportunity for all it’s worth. Just make sure you’re following what you want. You need to chase your own dreams.”

  I glanced at Rachel, still waiting for the pithy snark-back, but she was just looking at me, an unfathomable expression drawing her brows down. And, let me tell you, after being BFFs for six years, being unfathomable is pretty darn tricky.

  We just kind of looked at each other for a minute before Rachel finally broke into her real smile. The one she claimed to save for actual people.

  “Boys!” One word from Mr. Parker acted as a supreme summons. Either that or the promise of food was more potent than the ongoing… whatever that game was.

  Rachel and I stepped back to avoid the stampede, but once the guys were at the table, they all remained standing. Well, all but Tom, and he leapt to his feet as if it were covered in molten lava.

  Mr. Parker pulled out the chair at the far end of the table for Mrs. Parker and once she was seated, all the guys looked at me and Rachel.

  And then I knew!

  The Parkers were a transplanted 1950’s time-travel family experiment. I just had to figure out how they were reporting all their future information back to the past.

  “Well?” Luke said. “Are you going to sit down or what?”

  Or, not so much.

  I pulled out the bench on one side of the oversized picnic table and crawled over it. I had far less grace than Mrs. Parker as she lowered herself into the chair her adoring husband held out for her. I was running short on adoring men. I’d even be happy with an adoring pet at this point.

  After we were seated, dinner seemed to become organized chaos with everyone talking over one another and handing things around. I was surprised how the older boys took care of dishing out food to Thomas. But, when my glass was empty, it was Thomas who jumped up to fill it.

  “Here, Amy. Let me get you some more tea.”

  The tea sloshed over the side of my glass, leaving a pool of dark liquid on the laminated table cover. My little gentleman’s eyes filled up, and I could totally feel his pain. Big guys didn’t spill tea.

  “Don’t worry about it, Tom. I’m way worse. I spill things so often, my dad won’t let me paint in the house anymore.”

  “He won’t?” Thomas asked.

  “Nope. There are little spots all over the living room floor. I figured he wouldn’t notice, but the last time I talked to him…”

  The last time I talked to him—I mean, really talked to him? Well, that answered that question. Not since school ended this past year. So, the summer. We’d gone the entire summer without a conversation beyond “Did you pick up groceries” and “Move the clothes to the dryer when they’re done.” I wondered if it was harder for him to avoid me with school out. Or, maybe, it was just more obvious to me.

  “Anyway, I can’t paint in the house,” I ended. Even I thought that sounded weak. The weight of all those gazes, all those people seeing me, was still unfamiliar enough to make me squirm.

  Beside me, stiller than normal, Luke shifted, just enough that his shoulder bumped mine. Just like he’d done to Thomas my first time there, but less guy-like. I sat a minute, feeling the warmth of his shoulder through my T-shirt, oddly comforted. Oddly annoyed.

  Luke Parker was not going to become my personal binky, the thing I reached for every time something went wrong. Easing away, I gave Thomas another—hopefully—reassuring smile.

  The air had changed, bringing in that cool, dampness before a storm. The end of the summer always brought heavy feelings along with it for me. It was the saddest time in our house. It was the time we were losing my mom. People always think that grief doesn’t happen until the person has died, but that time… that losing time. It’s a heart-pain all its own. But, beyond that, the weather always made me feel heavy like the air.

  As we carried the last of the dinner in, Rachel glanced around for Jared. Mr. and Mrs. Parker sat at the kitchen table finishing their coffee while the guys rinsed dishes and put food away.

  “We have to get going,” Rachel told him, making her way around the counter to look up at him from underneath her lashes. “I promised my sister I’d help her pick out her first-day-of-school outfit. And a back-up. And a back-up for the back-up. It could take awhile.”

  While she said her who-knows-how-long-this-will-take goodbyes, I stopped in front of Mr. and Mrs. Parker to thank them for having us. I tried not to interrupt, but they were too involved in their own conversation. Clearing my throat, I jumped in, “Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Parker.”

  She looked up, a startled expression on her face. “Oh, Amy. I’m so glad you and Rachel joined us tonight. It was—” She broke off, a pink flush tinting her cheeks. “It was just plain nice.”

  If she had added “gosh darn it”, I wouldn’t have been surprised. But she just offered her warm, welcoming smile as she rose and pulled me into a hug.

  “Boys,” Mr. Parker called into the chaos. “Walk the ladies to their car.”

  Justin tossed the dishtowel down and glanced my way, his lip twitching as he fought to hide his grin. It was nice to see Luke scowling at someone else for a change. I’m pretty sure the smirk Justin gave him didn’t help. Reaching across the dishwasher, Luke gave him a little shove. Justin laughed as he fell back against the counter, letting Luke pass him by.

  Traitor.

  Luke stomped over to me and begrudgingly waved me on ahead of Jared and Rachel. At the front door, he paused, his hand on the screen’s handle before shaking his head and pushing it open.

  I stepped past him into the misty rain and stopped. His hand reached out, grasping my shoulder, before he collided with me.

  “I don’t need you to walk me out.” I held my hand up, collecting little droplets as Jared and Rachel squeezed by. “No reason for both of us to get wet.”

  Before he could argue, I sprinted for the car, avoiding Rachel and Jared’s goodbye session. Once in the Honda, I straightened the skirt, rolling and unrolling the edge of the hem as I waited for the happy couple to finish their desperate goodbyes. I mean, it would be ten whole minutes till she could call him from home.

  A soft tap came at my window. “Hey.”

  I rolled it down to face Luke. “I was wondering if we could maybe talk or something. Like, tomorrow. After the scrimmage maybe?”

  I wasn’t sure what we had to talk about. Actually, I wasn’t sure what he wanted to talk about, but I wasn’t sure of a lot of things lately.

  “Sure. I guess we could do that.”

  I was already making a list of things in my head I wanted him to say. How Katie really was nuts and he had been honest with her. How he was glad they’d moved to Ridge View so we’d met. How he thinks he might have feelings for me and could we hang out and see what was going on between us.

  But, especially that there was no competition between him and Chris except on the soccer field.

  He jogged back to the house, being as careful as I was to not let his eyes get burned out by accidentally glancing to where Rachel and Jared said good-bye.

  Jared crossed in front of the car as Rachel slid behind the wheel, a silly grin on her face.

  “Ok, talk,” I said. “Are you… serious about this one?”

  “Me?” Rachel threw me a look as she pivoted to back out of the driveway. “You’re the one with a fake boyfriend and Mr. Manners chasing after you. If anyone has something worth talking about, it’s you.”

  “I can’t imagine what you’re talking about.” I even stuck my nose in the air as I said this.

  Rachel laughed, light and airy. I wondered what was glowing more, the dashboard or the happiness rolling off her. “You can’t put me off with that horrible Gwyneth Paltrow fake stuffy British accent. You’re going to have to tell me eventually.”

  I watched the house drift away as she edged the car onto the street and headed homeward. “I don’t have anything to say.”

  That was, unfortunately, the truth. I had nothing to say. I didn’t even have anything not to say.

  What did I have? No guys. The top guy. Two guys. No guys again. And now back to two guys. Two guys who wanted to get together to talk. On Monday. After the blue versus green team scrimmage.

  Crud. This must be why those popular girls all have date books—to avoid double booking non-dates.

  Someone really should teach a class on the management of boys.

  Chapter 22

  The light, constant patter of raindrops woke me early Monday morning. More rain. More wet, dark, miserable rain. I was getting sick of it. The clouds were so thick, they robbed the morning of its morning-ness.

  Sliding out of bed, I stretched, reveling in the first free day in a week. No tryouts. No guys calling or showing up. Not even Rachel stopping by. Just me. Alone. By myself. Trying to figure out what the heck I was going to do.

  Suddenly, a free morning didn’t sound so great.

  I needed to figure out what I wanted my status with Chris to be—if there was even a status to consider. Then I needed to talk to Luke and figure out… I have no idea.

  That was part of the problem. Two guys, no status, lots of confusion. My head hurt and my heart kept doing weird speed-up-then-stop things.

  Mrs. Parker had been right last night. I needed to be clear about what I wanted. So, I sat down and wrote a pro/con list for each guy.

  CHRIS PROs

  • He’s been my dream guy since I was old enough to have a dream guy

  • He’s trying to change

  • His kisses

  • He’s hot

  CHRIS CONs

  • He’s either using me or Cheryl or both

  • He supposedly broke up with her, but they hung out Sunday

  • Which means that those kisses are going to her too

  LUKE PROs

  • I love being around his family

  • He gets me and my painting

  • Yeah, also hot

  • He can see me

  LUKE CONs

  • He’s pushy

  • He’s stubborn

  • He can see me

  Well, that didn’t do any good. I knew one thing and one thing only. I had told Chris I was his girlfriend, even if it was a secret, and I wouldn’t betray my promise until I’d either confronted him and cleared things up, or ended it. That meant talking to him tonight before I tried to figure things out with Luke.

  The drizzle stopped and I knew the scrimmage would be on.

  Tonight. Tonight everything would be decided. I’d talk to both guys and trust my heart to tell me who was The One.

  # # #

  Monday night almost the entire school was at the field. It was the unofficial start to soccer season, our version of the Oscars. Everyone was there to see who would walk away with the varsity spots—who would be the It Guys of the school year.

  Even the incoming freshmen came, like some type of rite of passage.

  Cheryl led the varsity cheer squad off the field, waving her little pom-poms in Half-Time victory. I realized all that gymnastics stuff was impressive, but I refused to believe it meant she had a brain too.

  Coach handed me his numbers for the blue team. I just needed the numbers from the green guys. I couldn’t wait till we had a real game and I only had to track one team.

  Principal Edwards took the spare microphone from the edge of the stats table. The crowd ignored him while he strode toward center field until the mic’s cord yanked him back.

  “Good evening, students.” As usual, he addressed us as though we were some elite, private boys’ school with his salute and snooty fake accent. “Welcome back for another great year and another great season at Ridge View High. As always, it is my sincere pleasure to see each and—”

  “Hi there.” Rachel was one of those girls who could get away with chirping. She handed me a Diet Coke. “Sorry I’m late coming back. Anything exciting happen down here while Jared was spoiling me and bribing you with soda?”

  “Not a thing.” I turned toward her, ignoring Principal Edwards droning on behind me. “I was hoping the squad would drop Cheryl after that toss-her-in-the-air thing, but no such luck. Her hair didn’t even come out of her—”

  “What!” It was none other than Captain Cheryl herself, gasping on the sidelines.

  Principal Edwards paused for a moment before continuing, or reiterating, or something I’m unsure of since I hadn’t been paying attention.