Page 47 of Ready to Score

“I… would love that, Mom. We could schedule a weekly call to talk about football.”

“Mm-hmm, yes, every week we’ll call.”

“Okay, yeah, that sounds so fun actually,” Franny said, meaning it. “We’re going to turn you into a football fan. You just have to figure out which team you want to root for.”

“I’ll support your team!”

“Mom, that’s—” Franny paused. She’d been about to correct her, tell her that she should go for the Cowboys or something, but it had suddenly become clear to her what this was. Her mother was trying to connect with her. “That would be great, actually. I would love that.”

“Good. We’ll call, and you can update me on how things are going with your team.”

“And you can update me on your life at the same time.”

Her umma’s tone was so sincerely happy it almost made Franny’s chest cave in. “I love you, Francesca.”

“I love you more, Umma.”

Franny was surprised that the football team’s annual preseason dinner took place at the mayor’s mansion. When Landry had invited her, she’d half expected to find a bunch of cafeteria tables at the school covered in white tablecloths. Instead, there was an actual formal dining space fixed up to the gills with fancy cutlery and a chandelier to boot.

The space was so nice that it was almost funny to see it filled with a bunch of teenaged boys who were clearly more comfortableon the field than in their ill-fitting suits. The dinner was a team-only affair, which meant no parents or other outsiders—aside from her. Not even the man whose home they were all in was in attendance. Just four long event tables outfitted with forty-three players and six coaches.

Then there she was, classified as neither of those things, realizing how awkward her in-between position was. And far from where Landry and Jade sat with their heads huddled together. For the first time, Franny felt something close to actual jealousy for the other woman. It was easy for her to see herself as part of the team when she was actually getting work done. Even if her task at practices was nothing but keeping the hydration station stocked, it was important and it made her useful. Here, she was left to pick at her grilled chicken thigh while the real coaches interacted with one another.

Franny stabbed her fork into a fatty piece of her chicken, watching as a hot stream of grease shot out and infected the mashed potatoes next to it. The food looked and smelled fantastic, but her appetite grew less and less intense by the second. Not for the first time that evening, she wondered why she’d even been invited. She considered standing up and leaving right then and there. She imagined she could slip out easily, without anyone even noticing. She could be at home wallowing in her bed in less than ten minutes.

She stabbed the chicken again, seething as that idea left her mind just as quickly as it arrived. She was here, and so she would stay. It didn’t matter how deep in her feelings she was; she’d promised herself she would be here for the kids, and she would. Even if she was going to be a big brat about it in her head.

“Hey, Coach.”

She didn’t think the words were directed at her at first, so she didn’t look up from her plate until she felt the sustained presence next to her. Alonzo Holton towered over her, a wide grin across hislight brown face. He’d gotten a fresh cut for the night, his curly hair piled at the top of his head but taper-faded at the sides. With his crisp white button-up and tie, he looked so adorable that Franny had to keep herself from cooing in his face.

“I’m not a coach, remember?” she told him with a smile.

The boy just shrugged. “You might as well be.”

Her spirits raised in an instant. “You enjoying yourself tonight?”

“The food is really good. You know they told us we can have as many plates as we want? That’s crazy. My mom told me I better eat my fill because I’m not going to rummage through her kitchen when I get home,” he said.

Franny barked out a laugh. “How many plates have you had so far?”

“Just three.” The boy had the nerve to look sheepish.

Franny smiled. “I know we haven’t had a chance to talk much one-on-one recently, but Coach Dunn told me your father is doing better. How are your folks doing?”

“They’re all right. Daddy had to go back to work the other day, and Mama is mad they wouldn’t give him more time, and now we’re all having to eat a ‘low-cholesterol diet’ in support, which means Mama keeps making beans, but,” he said, shrugging, “other than that, everything’s pretty normal.”

She stared him down for a few moments, taking in his posture and checking for any signs of anxiety. But he looked calm and pleasantly happy, even if just for the evening. This made her glad.

“You’re a very strong kid, you know that, Alonzo?”

His cheeks went ruddy. “Nah, I’m not.”

“You are. All of you are,” Franny said, pride filling her voice. “I watch you show up for this team every day, even when you’re going through very real things. This team is amazing, and you’re an important part of that.”

“We just care about the team is all,” Alonzo said. “We want to win, and I guess that just means, like, supporting each other or whatever.”

“I think supporting each other is a big part of us getting those wins.”

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