He lifts his brows but doesn’t comment. “I was just wondering if you wanted to get out. We could go to Scoops? Or Richie’s?” He leans in close. “It might be good for you to be out around town looking undisturbed, you know?”
Indecision crashes into me. “I don’t know. I completely blew Kenna off all day. Dick move.”
“Dick move,” he agrees. “But…”
I turn over his suggestion in my head. It probably is a good idea. If people see me out walking around, they’re not going to view what the news is playing as a big deal, right?
As soon as I think it, my stomach twists. All this is doing is giving me the kind of attention I don’t want. I just want my football skills to speak for me. I’m too young and too unimportant to have a scandal yet.
Well, I guess that’s the silver lining. I’m not even important yet. This is going to blow right over, just like Coach said. “Sure,” I tell Aidan. “Richie’s it is. I’m starving. I’ve barely eaten anything all day.”
“Cool, I’ll call Syd. She can arrange it.”
I’m too tired to argue with him that I should text Kenna myself. Who knows if she’ll even want to go to Richie’s, but Aidan immediately scrolls through his contacts and is on the phone with Kenna’s roommate before I can make up my mind.
It takes all of ten seconds for them to make the arrangements, and fifteen minutes later, Aidan and I are seated at a booth at Richie’s. A true classic American diner, the booths have that plastic feel and are red and white vertical stripes. The servers wear these throwback, flat hats. Songs from the fifties and sixties play from a real-life jukebox. But best of all, Richie’s consistently wins best hamburger of the year for this county since the early 2000s. They display the plaques proudly at the entry.
The bell rings to signal someone has walked in, and I glance up from the menu that’s lined in classic cars to find Kenna moving toward us. I elbow another football player who’s leaning over our table to talk about the game, and when he glances behind him, he gracefully bows out, telling us he’ll catch up later.
I scoot to the end of the booth and stand. A piece of me feels like the events of today have canceled out all the traction Kenna and I have gained recently. Immediately, though, she reaches for me, and I put my arms around her. She wraps strong arms around my waist, burying her head in my chest.
Words sit heavy on my tongue, but I don’t say them. I should be apologizing. I should be telling her everything that has gone down, but I don’t even know if she’s seen the news yet or heard from anyone else. I completely skipped school today and just went to the meeting before class and our late afternoon practice. The rest of the day, when I wasn’t talking to Coach, I sat in my room and replayed my mother’s voicemails as well as all of the news outlet headlines that bore my name.
Basically, I wallowed in my own misery, and I didn’t want to bring Kenna into that mess.
When Kenna and I finally let go of each other, Sydney says, “So, how are things going?” She pins a concerned gaze on me as she scoots into the booth.
I shrug. My mouth just feels stuck. The words are there, but they don’t plan on coming out anytime soon. I sit and move to the wall. Kenna follows and then places her hand on my thigh, giving me an encouraging squeeze.
Aidan sees me struggling and speaks up. “Practice was great. My arm’s ready. I’m about to hand Hamilton their ass on Saturday.” He holds his hand out in front of him, stretching it across the table while he twists it this way and that. His muscles ripple.
I bet he did have a good practice, but it wasn’t on my account.
Sydney and Aidan start talking, so Kenna leans into me. She doesn’t say anything, she’s just there. Her shampoo smells flowery, and I breathe in the scent, telling myself to forget about everything else and only focus on her right now. I can’t do anything about what’s going on outside of what I can control. And I’ve never been able to control my father, and I sure as hell don’t want anything to do with Hamilton.
“Your hair smells nice,” I tell her.
She tips her head up, a ghost of a smile crossing her face. “I had to get the chlorine smell out of it from practice.”
“Any news on Friday’s meet?”
“Another exhibition dive. But Coach says if I get another high score, it’s possible they’ll have a spot for me.”
The biggest smile I haven’t felt since I saw Kenna walking into her room this morning fills my face. “Really?”
She nods.
“I knew you could do it.”
She peers down at the table. “And I finally got the courage to tell my mom that I almost got kicked off the team.”
“Yeah?”
“She didn’t take it…great,” she hesitates. “But it wasn’t as bad as I was imagining. She knows I got the okay from the doctor, but I think she’s still in worry mode, you know?”
I nod quietly. At least Kenna has someone to care for her like that. Stick up for her about something important. Her family did exactly what they should have.
Not mine, though. Of course not mine.