Chapter 11

Coach ran us ragged again on Friday, I guess he thought that if he put us through enough pain, everyone would get on the same game plan.

The only thing that gave me any hope that things would change was that he paid specific attention to Elijah and his crew. The optimistic part of me thought that might mean Coach had finally seen what they were doing and was taking it seriously.

Or, Coach could just be pissed about Elijah’s missed catches and Hunter’s fumble. My warning to Elijah after the game hadn’t just been for show. They’d tried to do it in a way that made me look bad, but they’d only really managed to make themselves look bad, especially in the second game. If they’d convinced more people to join them on their little crusade, maybe things would have been different, but they hadn’t.

If anything, the rest of the team was getting pissed at them for screwing up. They may not realize it was on purpose, but everyone could see where the mistakes were being made.

My only real concern was that Elijah would give up on this ploy but think up some new way to get to me. It was obvious to me that the best thing he could do was to get the rest of the team to turn against me, and if I could think of that, so could he.

Still, if Coach Heidemann was recognizing what they were doing, it would make things a little better when Elijah finally decided to pivot and do something else because I wouldn’t have to waste time convincing him it was something Elijah would do.

We also weren’t the only team struggling. While varsity was 2 and 0, JV had our same record, except their games hadn’t been as close as ours had. They’d lost their second game on Friday by fourteen points, which is not what the coaches wanted to see. Their punishment, come Monday, was going to be a lot worse than the running Coach Heidemann put us through.

I also hadn’t heard anything else about the cheating accusation. On Friday, Mr. Walsh was still giving me looks and being a little hostile to me, but he didn’t say anything else, so I hoped the Vice-Principal had squashed that.

Again, since I knew in my heart Elijah was behind it, I knew he wouldn’t stop just ‘cause this attempt didn’t work. I’d have to be on my toes, ready for him to try again, that was for sure.

Late Saturday afternoon, I’d finished a lot of the assignments I’d been given on Friday and had gone down to the kitchen for a snack when I found Mom at the kitchen table, her head in her hands, looking miserable. She normally worked at the hair salon on Saturdays, and then stopped at the grocery store for stuff to make dinner on the way home, but she’d called out today because of her headaches.

I knew there was some kind of condition Mom had suffered from years later, if the dream was to be believed, and it seemed obvious the headaches were connected, but I couldn’t remember any details about it. By the time she’d actually gotten sick in my dream, we had absolutely no contact. When I’d gone to her funeral, we hadn’t spoken in almost a decade, and I was still pissed enough at her that I’d done just enough to get her buried and ignored everything else. I hadn’t even cleaned out her apartment. I’d just left it abandoned with the rest of her probate, letting the state deal with it.

I know she’d been to the doctor about her headaches several times, and they’d always just told her it was stress and they couldn’t find any physical symptoms. I knew that was bullshit, but how do you tell someone they’ll die in twenty years from an ailment you can’t name and convince them to start looking into what it might be.

They might not see yet that Josh was crazy, but that definitely would have them looking at me like I was.

I was still trying to think of a way to help her, but the best I could do for today was to offer to go to the grocery store for her. She was surprised by the offer and actually smiled at me as she accepted; something she hadn’t done in a long while.

So Saturday afternoon, when a lot of kids would be at activities or out with friends, I was at the grocery store, digging through onions and trying to decipher Mom’s scribbles on the grocery list.

I actually wish I could have done more than this, but even with the stuff I knew from the dream, I didn’t know how to cook for shit. In my dream life, I’d basically lived off of cereal, instant ramen packages, and hamburger helper. I wasn’t sure offering to make sub-par food for her would have been that much help.

I’d just found an onion for the meatloaf she was planning to make and looked up to figure out where the celery was when I practically ran into Eduardo, both of us looking shocked to see the other one in the grocery store.

Unlike myself, however, Eduardo was with an older woman who looked amazingly like him, and who I could only assume was his mother.

“Eduardo?” I said, partly as a greeting and partly surprised.

I was trying to keep my voice friendly and casual. We’d managed to make it through an entire meal more or less cordially, but he hadn’t agreed to sit with us yet. Yesterday, he’d been by himself again, and I’d needed to talk to Miguel and the others about the game, so I hadn’t been able to sit with him. But I hadn’t given up on befriending him yet either.

“Uhh, Hi. This is ... uhh, my mom,” he said, shifting the basket in his hands and pointing to the woman next to him.”

“Elena Guzman,” she said, extending her hand with a warm smile.

“Blake Sims, ma’am. I’m a friend of Eduardo’s from school.”

“A friend? Eduardo, you didn’t tell me you were making new friends! How do you two know each other?”

“Just from school.”

“Ohh, do you have classes together?”

“Ohh God, no. I’m kind of the poster boy for a dumb jock. Eduardo’s too smart to be in classes with me.”

Eduardo gave a kind of nervous laugh and said, “I have woodshop with some of his teammates though. Blake is the quarterback of the freshman football team.”

“Football! That’s wonderful. Young men need good activities to keep them busy, don’t you think? And team sports teach such important lessons about working together.”

‘Not the way we are doing it currently’, I thought. What I said was, “Uhh, I guess.”

I’d reached the problem with my not having become friends with Eduardo yet. I wasn’t really sure what to say here. We’d only had one conversation, and it had mostly revolved around how much we both hated Elijah.

“So, have you lived here long? We only moved this summer, which has made it hard for Eduardo to make new friends.”

Eduardo looked at his mother with a mortified expression, which I got. Parents could be embarrassing, telling someone all the stuff they wanted to keep secret.

“From Midland, right? He said his dad is traveling back for work every day, which I told him was funny because my dad also works as a policeman in Midland and commutes every day.”

“An officer! How nice. And you’re here shopping for your family? Are you going to cook for them?”

I laughed. “Oh, I’m just the delivery boy today. Mom’s got a headache, so I offered to help out a little. My cooking would make the cafeteria food seem gourmet. This is about the limit of my skills, finding vegetables that Mom can turn into actual food.”

“Well, it’s good that you’re learning. Eduardo helps me in the kitchen sometimes. It’s important for young men to know these things.”

“Mom,” Eduardo muttered, his cheeks reddening.

I cleared my throat, giving Eduardo a friendly nudge. “So, what have you been up to lately?”

“Nothing much, really.” Eduardo shrugged.

“Eduardo’s been very focused on his schoolwork,” Mrs. Guzman said, giving her son an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “He’s already at the top of most of his classes.”

“Mom, please...” Eduardo mumbled.

“That’s actually really cool,” I said. “I wish I was doing better. It’s never been my thing, but I’m working on changing that.”

“It’s not that hard if you stay on top of your work.”

“Says the boy who got perfect scores on his first two quizzes,” Mrs. Guzman beamed. “You should have more pride in yourself, Eduardo.”

He just shrugged again.

“I have an excellent idea. You should come over for dinner next week. It would be wonderful for Eduardo to have a friend visit. Maybe Tuesday?”

“Mom, I’m sure Blake’s busy with football and everything...” Eduardo started to say.

“I’d love to,” I cut in, seeing an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. “If you’re sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

“No trouble at all! We’ll look forward to having you,” Mrs. Guzman said warmly. “Tuesday at six?”