“Mrs. Kemp sent this over,” Dean said. “Laird, come on up here.”
Laird came to the front of the room, his head slightly bent in embarrassment. His dark, almost black hair was recently cut, and with his strong neck prominently displayed, he seemed more like an adult than ever before. He stood next to Dean, slouching until Dean put his hand on his back to make him stand straight. Dean felt unreasonably proud of him, as if Laird were an ambassador of Willowboro, going out into the world to represent the town.
“You all know Laird’s leaving,” Dean said. “And you all know what a loss it’s going to be for us. Maybe some of you who are seniors remember when Laird was starting out. He was always athletically gifted. He didn’t have to try. But he did. He worked harder than anybody on this team. He built this team. And now he has to leave. That’s a hard thing to do, gentlemen. So I want a big round of applause for Laird, for everything he’s done for us. And let’s wish him well in his new endeavors — and be grateful he’ll be playing Division II at his new school, so we won’t see him staring us down on the field.”
The boys whooped and clapped, immediately getting to their feet. The gym echoed with noise. Laird turned red, but he couldn’t stop smiling. “I’ll be back to see you play!” he yelled. “You guys are going to States!”
The noise got even louder as the boys began to stamp their feet. Dean felt a familiar swell of happiness in his chest. The buzz of youth. It was contagious. He looked for Robbie and Bry — he wanted to see their expressions — but the standing, cheering players blocked his view of them.
LAIRD LEFT THE next morning. That afternoon the team lost the scrimmage against Greenbrier. It was unusually hot, especially in swampy Greenbrier, but still. That was no excuse. Dean brooded on the bus ride home. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d lost a scrimmage in preseason. He stayed up late trying to figure out what went wrong. They just weren’t strong enough, he decided. More weights, more conditioning — it was that simple.
But the next day it was hot again, and Dean didn’t want to trap them in the muggy, padded weight room. Also, he didn’t think Robbie and Bry would put up with it. They were sitting in the bleachers now, eating candy and reading the comic books he’d bought for them. Bribery. Lately it was the only thing that worked.
At the far end of the field his players were jogging slowly, cooling down between drills. They looked scrawny from this distance.
“You still thinking about yesterday?” Garrett said.
“I didn’t even want them playing yet. They’re sloppy. They’re going to develop bad habits.”
“They’re just tired. When school starts, they’ll be back on their feet.”
“When school starts, they’ll be distracted,” Dean said.
“Hey, is he allowed to do that?” Garrett pointed toward the chain-link gate at the other end of the field, where Robbie was exiting.
“Crap,” Dean said. “Excuse me for a minute.”
“You want me to go ahead and run the next drill?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Dean pulled down his cap. This wasn’t the first time Robbie had run off without permission. Dean had to admit the boys were getting harder to manage without Stephanie. At first, things had been easier. It was a relief to have her gone, to live without the feeling of her watching him, judging him. On a purely logistical level, he no longer had to keep track of her schedule, or deal with her dishes in the sink or her car in the driveway or her stuff on the stairs. He felt a kind of bachelor’s freedom. He and the boys went to the Red Byrd three nights in a row and Bryan constructed a sprawling Lego village in Stephanie’s room. But the novelty was wearing off, and now the boys were restless. They complained about the double days. Robbie was outright rude, while Bry was his usual sweet, placating self. This morning he’d asked if they could visit Joelle’s farm so he could see the animals. But Dean couldn’t take them to Joelle’s without admitting defeat.
“Hey!” he called to Robbie. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Nowhere!” Robbie called back. He was making his way across the baseball field, which abutted the football field. He stopped when he reached the pitcher’s mound, smoothing the dirt with his foot while he waited for Dean to catch up.
“You can’t run off whenever you get bored.”
“I want to get a Coke from the soda machine.”
“There’s Coke in the clubhouse.”
“It’s in a bottle. I like my own Coke in a can. It tastes better.”
“Robbie, come on, give me a break.”
“Why should I? You said we would go to the mall yesterday after the scrimmage, but we just went straight home and then all we did was watch game tapes.”
“I’m sorry,” Dean said. “I forgot. I have a lot on my mind. We can go next weekend. There’ll be sales for Labor Day.”
“No, we can’t, you have to go to the parade.”
Every year the town threw a parade to showcase the high school band and football team — but mostly the football team. When it was over, the players stopped by all the stores to drop off season schedules.
“We’ll go after the parade,” Dean said.
“Yeah, right.”
“I promise,” Dean said. “Okay?”
Robbie allowed Dean to guide him back toward the field, but when they got to the chain-link gate, he stopped abruptly. “I’m not going in there,” he said. “I’m sick of sitting on those hard bleachers.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, it’s not that bad.”
“It is that bad.” Robbie planted his feet. Then he sat down on the worn grass.
Dean glanced back at the field, relieved to see that his players were absorbed in their sprint ladders, too exhausted to pay attention to him. Only Bryan had taken notice and was making his way over to them.
“Pull yourself together,” Dean said. “You’re going to middle school this year and you need to start acting like it. You want Bryan to see you like this?”
“I don’t care what he thinks,” Robbie said. “He’s such a fucking goody-goody.”
Dean was shocked.
“What?” Robbie said.
“Don’t what me. You are not allowed to use that kind of language with me — or anyone.”
“I don’t care.”
“You don’t care? Do you want to go to the mall next weekend or not?”
“I don’t care!” Robbie said, yelling loudly enough for some of the players to look their way. Without warning, he threw himself on his stomach like a toddler and began to pound the grass with his fists.
“Robbie, get up! You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“I want Stephanie!” Robbie said, yelling into the grass. “Stephanie was nice to me. She made s’mores in the microwave and promised to call and help me pick what to wear on the first day of school once I got new clothes.”
Dean struggled to keep his cool. He knelt down and spoke gently. “I’m sorry we haven’t gotten your school clothes yet. And I’m sorry you miss your sister. I miss her, too.”
“No, you don’t.” Robbie sat up. Blades of mown grass stuck to his wet cheeks. He pushed his overgrown hair out of his long-lashed eyes. “You don’t love us as much as Stephanie does.”
By now Bryan had approached. “Daddy loves us,” he said. “He’s just busy with football.”
Robbie sneered. “You’re such a tool.”
“Don’t talk to your brother that way. He’s your ally.”
“He’s your ally,” Robbie repeated, mocking.
“Fine, you want to sit by yourself, sit by yourself,” Dean said. “You can sit here for the rest of practice.”