Free Food, Girls, and Other Things I Can't Have by Allen Zadoff

back in the big leagues, huh?” he says, and he gives me a rough handshake.
    “I guess.”
    “Even great players go down to Triple-A sometimes. They work on the skill set until they get called up again.”
    Rodriguez head-butts a soccer ball. It rolls into the center of the field.
    “Vamonos,” he says.
    We jog back onto the field. I kick the ball back and forth with Rodriguez for a minute. With the two of us together, nobody dares to say anything. They just form back into teams, and the game starts up like nothing ever happened.
    A second later April runs by.
    “Welcome back,” she says, and she gives me a wink.

the elephant in the living room.
    “When it’s time for nominations, remember,” Eytan says, “nothing below Commerce Secretary. It’s degrading.”
    We’re rushing down the hall towards the Model UN meeting. Eytan is wearing an old sports coat over a Radiohead T-shirt. Business attire.
    “I’m not sure I want a position this semester,” I say.
    “What are you talking about?”
    “I’m really busy. I may need to fade into the background.”
    “We’re sophomores now,” Eytan says. “No more fading.”
    What I don’t say is that yesterday was the last day of football tryouts, and everyone’s waiting for the list to go up. I keep trying to tell Eytan what’s happening, but it never seems to be the right time. Maybe that’s how it was with Dad and Miriam. He wanted to tell Mom, but he never found the right time.
    We stop in front of a door with a handwritten sign: REPUBLIC OF ESTONIA .
    “I really played you up during the meeting last week,” he says, “so walk like you got a pair.”
    “A pair of what?”
    “Massive Estonian gonads.”
    “Dude, I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I say.
    Eytan looks at me strangely. He says, “What’s with the ‘dude’ stuff? Let’s switch to polysyllabic mode, huh? We’re heading into the diplomatic trenches.”
    He throws open the door.
    I spend the rest of the afternoon discussing what Eytan calls the great balancing act—ways to protect our tiny republic without pissing off our giant and powerful neighbor, Russia. An hour in and we’ve switched to debating military strategy.
    “Historically, diplomacy has proven to be an effective deterrent,” Eytan says.
    Justin leaps out of his seat.
    “Why don’t we just f-ing attack?” he says.
    “It’s true,” another kid says. “The best defense is a good offense.”
    “We barely have an army,” I say. “What are we going to attack with?”
    “Nuke them,” Justin says. “It’s tough for dust to invade.”
    “That’s crazy,” I say.
    “Let me get this straight,” Justin says. “We’re a tiny little do-nothing country, and we’re going to trust this giant, powerful country not to screw us over?” He coughs and says, “Bullshit” at the same time.
    Eytan stretches, completely unperturbed. He says, “What’s your idea, Delegate Zansky?”
    It’s a softball pitch. He’s setting me up to knock one out of the park.
    Justin stands on one side of the room and I stand on the other. The Model UN geeks look from one to the other, waiting for fireworks.
    This is my comfort zone. Geeks and obscure geopolitics. Two of my best subjects.
    Anyway, it beats the hell out of getting pounded on the field by sweaty strangers. Here we pound each other with our brains.
    “Well?” Justin says.
    I stand up slowly. “Allow me to quote Sun Tzu: ‘He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight.’”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Justin says.
    “We cooperate with them. We let peace be our war.”
    The geeks applaud. Eytan jumps out of his seat.
    “Thank you, Delegate Zansky for that subtle and compelling analysis. Fellow delegates, it is my honor to nominate Andrew Zansky for Secretary of the Defense Committee.”
    “Second!” someone screams.
    “I respectfully decline,” I say.
    “All in favor?” Eytan says, steamrolling me.
    A resounding “Aye!” thunders through the