Free Weird Girl and What's His Name by Meagan Brothers Page A

wasn’t crying like a big baby.
    â€œRory, I—” It was like she was about to say no, but then she stopped. “Yeah. Of course. Come here.”
    Lula pulled back the comforter, and I climbed into bed with her. She curled up in my arms, and I cried quietly into her hair. She brushed my cheeks dry with the backs of her hands. And the TV flickered blue as Gillian Anderson flubbed her lines, David Duchovny dropped his gun, and the slate clapped and clapped and clapped again against the laughter while somebody’s wary voice off-screen ordered: Everybody, back to one.
    I WAS LATE TO WORK THE next day, not because I dreaded seeing Andy, but because Coach Morris called me into in his office. They thought that, with my size and my speed, I was a natural-born football machine, and they wanted to train me to be an offensive lineman. They wanted to entrust me with the extremely important job of keeping Sexy Seth from being sacked, whatever that meant. Coach Morris said I’d need to really buckle down and make a commitment, but that if I did, I might get some actual time on the playing field, because most of the current offensive linemen were graduating this year. I could maybe even get a college scholarship for this. But I would really have to dig in and learn the game. Devote my life to two-a-days. Play catch-up to guys who’d been playing this game since they could walk. This whole discussion was so ridiculously super-serious, you’d think he was telling me that I was Kal-El, last surviving member of the planet Krypton, and now I had to use my superpowers to save Planet Earth. I told him I had a lot going on and I would have to think about it.
    â€œWell, it’s certainly something to think about,” Coach Morris said, leveling his gaze at me. “For your future.” Sorry, I’m Morris, I thought, trying not to laugh. As if this guy knew anything about my future.
    â€œI was afraid you wouldn’t come in today,” Andy said when we were finally alone in the shop. There had actually been some business that afternoon, so we spent the first hour avoiding each other, him at the register and the coffee bar, me busying myself in the back, unpacking boxes.
    â€œI had to stay after at school. I should’ve called,” I said, popping open a fresh box of paperback Harry Potters. It was hard to make eye contact with him. I still felt a dull ache in my chest, still angry at myself and at him, and not sure if I wanted to let him back in yet or not.
    â€œNo, it’s fine.” Andy took off his glasses and rubbed the little divots that they left in his nose. “Look, I really need to apologize about last night. You were right, I was being too sensitive. I was upset, and I should’ve talked to you instead of taking it out on you. My wife just told me yesterday that she’s marrying some ski instructor from Utah, of all places, and she’s taking the girls out there with her. I should have been more forthcoming with you, and I’m sorry.”
    â€œThat’s okay,” I said softly. “I was a jerk, too. I’m sorry I lost my temper. And I’m sorry about your kids.”
    â€œYeah, it’s—” But he didn’t finish. He was getting choked up. I pulled him into an embrace. Felt him exhale against my chest.
    â€œI just didn’t realize how much I love them,” he said, his voice muffled.
    â€œThey’re your kids,” I said. “Of course you love them. You’re a good dad. Now you just have to fly to Utah a lot, I guess.”
    â€œI know. You’re right. I guess I’m going to start racking up the frequent flyer miles, huh?”
    I tried to laugh, but, honestly, it was kind of a bummer to think about. How often were we talking here? Monthly? Every two weeks? How long would he stay out there?
    Andy took a deep breath. Separated himself from me and wiped his face on his shirttail.
    â€œAll right, enough. We