Page 38 of Playing for Keeps
A siren echoed over the fields, indicating the round was about to start.
Ethan jogged over to join us on the sideline.
“Hey.” He gave Jonathan and me a grin. “Glad you guys could make it.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” I said.
Ethan angled his head, studying me. “What about the world, Jupiter and Mercury?”
“Maybe if you threw in Saturn,” I deadpanned back.
Ethan’s eyes sparkled. “I’m prepared to negotiate if the deal includes Uranus.”
Jonathan looked between us, a frown creasing his brow.
Char shook her head. “Ignore them,” she said to Jonathan. “They were always like this. They’d go off on their own fantasy adventures and no one else could ever keep up.”
“It’s not our fault the world lacks our advanced sense of humor,” Ethan said.
“Advanced. That’s one word for it,” Char said.
Ethan and I were saved from having to defend ourselves by the arrival of my parents in a fluster of hellos and complaints about the parking.
My mother hugged me and Jonathan and Char, then sent Ethan a stiff smile.
“Hello, Ethan.”
“Hi, Alison.” Ethan gave her one of his happy smiles.
My dad greeted him with a handshake, before turning to me.
“This brings back memories, being on the sidelines of a rippa rugby game again.”
“Ah…yeah. Definitely.”
The whistle blew and the game started. Rippa rugby was a safe introduction to rugby for young kids. Players had to rip the tags off the opposing players’ backs, but with no actual tackling. At this age there was no such thing as positional play; the kids just flocked around whomever had the ball.
Someone passed it now to Theo and suddenly he was breaking through the crowd of opposition players and streaking toward the try line.
He dodged around the last opposing player and landed on the grass with a thud. Try!
We all whooped.
Dad turned to me in excitement. “Looks like he inherited your talent on the sporting field!”
“Pretty sure Ethan’s genes might be part of it too,” I said.
“Oh yeah.” Dad glanced at Ethan, as if he’d just remembered his grandson’s father was also a professional rugby player. “I’m glad your genes came through,” he said to Ethan. “Char could hardly catch a ball.”
My father, in his attempt to get himself out of a hole, had managed to stumble his way into a bigger one.
Char bit her lip, pulling her coat tighter around herself.
“Lucky Char is so talented in other areas, eh?” Ethan said. “Have you seen the paintings she’s doing for her exhibition? They’re awesome.”
Char threw Ethan a grateful smile, and a nasty feeling coiled in my stomach.
Char and Ethan. If it had been anyone else who’d supported my eighteen-year-old sister when she’d gotten pregnant, I’d have been grateful.
