“Do you like them?” Sarah asked. “Zach, Tyler, all of them? Do you even like them?”
“Yeah,” Jon said. “As it happens, I like them a lot. They’re my friends, Sarah. My teammates.”
“What would I have been?” Sarah asked. “If Tyler and Zach didn’t hate me?”
Jon reached over and kissed her. Sarah kissed him back, then pulled away.
“Oh boy,” she said. “Now I see the advantages of this garage.”
Jon laughed. “I want to see you,” he said. “Just not where it will upset the guys. Not until after Lisa’s evaluation.”
“When is it?” Sarah asked.
“In a week or two,” Jon said. “Can we keep things quiet until then?”
Sarah stood there, absolutely still. Jon felt her slipping away. He kissed her again, but this time she didn’t respond.
“We could walk to the bus together,” he said. “Where do you live?”
“Elm Street,” she said.
Jon thought about it. “That’s eight blocks from here,” he said. “I’ll ask Val to wake up twenty minutes earlier and make my breakfast. That should give me enough time to get to your house.”
“Why don’t you wake up twenty minutes earlier and make your own breakfast?” Sarah asked.
“I can’t,” Jon said. “I don’t know how.”
“You’ve never made your own breakfast?” Sarah asked, and Jon could see she was struggling not to laugh. He took that as a good sign.
“Maybe when I was a kid,” he replied. “But that’s what Val’s for, to make our meals and clean the house.”
“That’s not what she’s for,” Sarah said. “It’s what she does.”
“Fine,” Jon said. “It’s what she does. And she’s grateful for the job. We treat her well, and she knows it. There’s nothing wrong with me telling her to get up a few minutes earlier every day to make my breakfast.”
“I wish you understood,” Sarah said. “Working at the clinic, I’m starting to see things differently. Maybe you would too if you knew any laborers.”
“You mean grubs,” Jon said. “And I know some.”
“I don’t mean your domestics,” Sarah said. “I mean friends, family.”
“My sister’s a grub,” he replied angrily. “She works in the greenhouses. Her husband’s a grub. He’s a bus driver, here in Sexton. You don’t have to tell me grubs are people, the same as clavers. Are any of your family grubs? Any of your friends?”
Sarah was silent.
“I’m not the only claver with family in White Birch,” Jon said. “Most everybody has someone there. Maybe their dad was selected but their aunt and their cousins weren’t. So they settled in White Birch, hoping things would get better. And maybe things will get better, and there won’t be clavers anymore or grubs. But like it or not, that’s how things are.”
“How things are stinks,” Sarah said.
“I don’t see you moving into a grubtown,” Jon said. “You had your chance, but you chose an enclave.”
Sarah turned away from him. Jon touched her face, and felt her tears.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll make my own breakfast. Can we walk to the bus together?”
She faced him, and he kissed the tears off her cheek. “I know I sound awful,” she said. “I didn’t used to. It’s just I feel so alone.”
Jon nodded. “I know how that feels,” he said. “We all do. Clavers, grubs, all of us. We all feel alone. We all feel exactly like you.”
Jon tried making his own breakfast, but he burned everything.
When he got home from soccer practice, he asked Val if she’d mind getting up twenty minutes earlier to make his breakfast. He didn’t bother to explain why.
Val told him it was no problem, exactly as Jon had known she would. He couldn’t figure out why Sarah had made such a fuss.
Jon had spent the week eating lunch and joking with his teammates, rebuilding their relationship. Sarah was a prime target of their ridicule. He told himself it didn’t matter since she couldn’t hear what they were saying. She knew he liked her, and that was what counted.
He was always a good student, mostly because he was afraid of the consequences if he wasn’t, but he worked particularly hard that week. He was the first to raise his hand when his teacher asked a question. He participated actively in the discussions. He did everything short of licking ass.
That he saved for soccer practice. No one did more reps, no one pushed harder, no one took practices more seriously. He apologized again to Coach, and nodded thoughtfully when Coach lectured him on the importance not merely of winning but of winning big. Ryan and Luke snickered, but Jon acted as though he’d never truly understood all that, but now he did. Grubs had to be kept in their place, and it was his job to see to it they were. His job, except, he hoped, for the upcoming game.
Even if Matt wasn’t going to be in White Birch that Sunday, Jon would have been reluctant to play. The Sexton team was scheduled to play against the York grubs. York was a backcountry town. It could be reached only by driving over untended roads, and the trip took at least four hours.
If that wasn’t bad enough, the York grubs didn’t seem to understand they were grubs. None of them commuted. Instead clavers came to them. York was the chief manufacturer of potka. They grew runty potatoes, the kind no one would ever have eaten before the bad times, and they fermented them into the only alcohol readily available in the area. They had a long history of moonshining, and they knew what they were doing.
Jon had played in two games against them. Both times the Sexton bus carried twice as many guards as usual. Both times the York team played for blood, and the only way the grubs were appeased after their defeat was by the enormous amount of potka the Sexton clavers purchased from them. Both times Coach proclaimed the clavers had taught them their place, and both times no one cared because they were too drunk to listen. The only sober one was the driver, and that was because he was a grub and knew better than to get drunk in front of clavers.
Even if Jon weren’t the top scorer on the team, Coach would want him there on Sunday, partly because he was a slip and partly as punishment for his lousy play the week before.
But Jon asked anyway. He was scared of Coach, but he was more scared of Mom.
“No,” Coach said. “Forget it, Evans. No special privileges for you.”
Tyler walked over to them. “Excuse me, Coach,” he said. “I’m scheduled for this Sunday off, but I’d like to play.”
Coach snorted. “No one wants to play York,” he said.
“Yeah, I know,” Tyler said. “But my father has family around there. He’d like them to have a chance to see me play.”
“You put him up to this?” Coach asked Jon.
“No sir,” Jon said. “It’s news to me.”
“It would mean a lot to my father,” Tyler said. “I know I’m not as good as Evans, but I’ll have extra incentive. Dad hates that side of his family. He wants me there when we kick their ass.”
Coach grinned. “All right,” he said. “Buy me an extra bottle of potka. Evans, you got the day off.”
“Thanks, Coach,” Jon said. “Tyler, thanks.”
Tyler shook his head. “That’s what friends are for,” he replied. “Don’t forget who your friends really are, Evans.”
Jon was in his room, studying chemistry, when Lisa knocked on his door.
“Come in,” Jon called. He’d been sprawled on the bed, so he sat upright as Lisa sat on the desk chair.