Page 9 of The Americana Playbook

“Fitz and I,” she corrects, grabbing an ashtray.

“Fitz andI,”I restate. “We’re running away.”

“You’re running away to the clubhouse with Fitz?”

I nod.

“In that case, go grab my comb and let me fix your hair. It’s all ratty”—Honey pauses—“and is that a stick in your braid?”

I frown. “Why does my hair have to be neat?”

“Oh, honey,” she says, pausing to light her cigarette. “Always look your best around men.” She lets out a long exhale.

I tilt my head to the side. We’re only eight. “Isn’t Fitz a boy?”

“One day, you both will grow up. Let him remember you without a twig in your hair.”

The man on the screen is far from the boy back then, but I see specks of my best friend growing up in the creases around his hazel eyes, the wideness of his grin, the lone dimple it shows in his right cheek. I see my confidant, the preteen who still met me in our clubhouse even though we were far from the age of pretend play. I see the teenager who was the closest person to me at the beginning of high school but who began to stop looking for me toward the end of it.

Fitz went one way, and I went the other. There were only a handful of times toward the end of junior year that we met in the middle. One of them was the night I was taken, on the first anniversary of Honey’s death.

I swallow the tastes of emotion that invade my mouth. It would be easy to think that there’s a hint of jealousy over Fitz’s success, his ability to live freely, but I’m not. I’m elated for him. And still, I’m sad. I’m sad he doesn’t even know that. I’m angry at myself that even after I left Horizons and began life on my own, I never was brave enough to overcome the embarrassment of what had been done to me and let him know how proud I was that he made it. I never was brave enough to say how much I missedhimand the period of my life when things were innocent, when I believed in the best in people, when I believed I was worth more than whatever use I was to others, to myfamily.

I shift on the couch, uncomfortable not just because of the stiff cushions, but because it’s never been easy to sit with the fact that the two most important people to me are forever out of reach.

But depending on how brave I can be, one might not be for much longer.

COACH

I’ll send you the clip. You went weak on the slant.

Yeah, I felt that. When I’m flushed left out of the pocket next time, I’ll hit it.

COACH

Just do better.

Did you talk to Todd? He didn’t come with us.

COACH

If Todd won a Super Bowl and wants to cry in the hotel like a baby, let him. Guy is a free agent soon anyway. I won’t bow to any player, Fitzy. Neither should you.

If someone saw my phone,they might think I was on the losing team. And to be honest? I feel like it. And I don’t blame Todd. If I was benched for three quarters of a difficult game and thrown in for the last few minutes after we got the lead out of pity, I wouldn’t want to celebrate either.

But I still try to get him here.

Just one drink, Todd. You got us here. Doesn’t feel right celebrating without you, man.

TODD

I’m not celebrating being punished for doing the right thing. I’m not some abused dog that keeps coming back for pats. This team isn’t for me anymore. I’ve got options.

Come on. Let’s talk.

Todd

Nothing to talk about. We’re straight, Fitzy. You’re the man. Go celebrate.

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