Free The Farewell Season by Ann Herrick

picking up the pad and a pencil. I sat up and started to doodle. Even though I wasn't drawing anything particular, the sound of the pencil lead across the paper was soothing.
    After a couple of minutes I was actually drawing something, a cartoon of Coach Horton. I didn't know where I was going with it, because I didn't really know what to think about him. I had to smile when I saw that I'd captured that Neanderthal look of his. That was one thing about my cartoons. No one had any trouble recognizing the characters.
    Next thing I knew, I was sketching Glynnie. With her chopped-off haircut and horn-rimmed glasses, it was easy at first. But what was beneath the hair and glasses? I tried to think.
    For one thing, I decided, she made eye contact. She wasn't one of those people who was only half there, partly lost in space.
    I guess that was too much thinking for one night. The next thing I knew, I had drifted off to sleep.
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
     
    For the first time in months, I needed the alarm clock to wake me up. I swatted half the stuff off my nightstand trying to grab it. Starburst marched up my body and stared to show her annoyance at the buzzing. Finally, my hand landed on the clock and slapped it into silence.
    It was great to have slept through the night. Nothing like football practice to realign the old sleep pattern.
    Starburst meowed to go out. As I sat up to open the window, my right elbow stuck to the sheet. Without thinking, I pulled my arm, ripped a scab and watched blood drip all over my elbow.
    "Shit!" I grabbed a dirty sock off the headboard to stop the bleeding.
    Starburst meowed to remind me that I hadn't opened the window.
    "Okay, okay." I tried to open the window without dropping the sock and getting blood all over everything.
    Once Starburst was on her way, I flopped back in bed. All my cuts stung, all my blisters smarted and all my bruises ached. My body felt like one humongous distress zone. I lay there and moaned.
    There was a knock at my door. Much too cheerfully Kirstin called, "Eric, are you up yet?"
    "I'm awake. Get lost!"
    Kirstin laughed, and scuffed back down the hall.
    I was sore all over. How was I supposed to get up and face another day of practice? Usually by now Dad was up and talking so excitedly about the new season that I would forget how much I hurt.
    Just get up, I told myself. Think about something positive. Yeah. Think about going to the playoffs. Think about setting a record for interceptions.
    As I forced myself out of bed, I knocked my sketch pad on the floor. I picked it up and looked at my drawings. There, that was something good, the pictures of Glynnie and Coach Horton. Maybe I should start drawing again, when I had more time.
    My aching body reminded me that I needed to stand in the shower and let hot water pour over my sore muscles. I dragged myself to the bathroom. At first the water stung, as it hit my cuts and scrapes. Then I started to feel better, enough that I almost didn't want to stop showering.
    My stomach insisted on its share of the action, so I toweled off, quickly dressed and went down for breakfast. When Rolf showed up early, Kirstin insisted he sit down and "have at least a taste of the date-nut bread." Of course, he couldn't resist.
    "So," Rolf said after he washed down his third piece with a glass of milk, "how'd it go with Glynnie last night?"
    "It was okay."
    "Yeah, I heard him come home," Kirstin said. "It was pretty late."
    I snorted. "You call nine o'clock late?"
    "It's later than you stayed out all summer," Kirstin pointed out.
    "You try mowing lawns all day and see how late you stay out."
    Kirstin just raised an eyebrow.
    When Rolf finished polishing off the last few drops of milk, he and Kirstin got up, cleared away their dishes and got into a discussion of plants next to the dishwasher.
    "I don't know Glynnie," Mom said, "though I've met her mother at the grocery store. What's she like?"
    I shrugged. "Just a girl from my class."
    Mom pressed on.