Page 55 of Hail Marry
“First miniature you.” Troy holds up his baby like Simba.
Mrs. Sheppard shoots him an indulgent but chastising look. “But the rest is for you to fill with whatever moments you find most magical and meaningful.”
“May there be many,” Mr. Sheppard says, putting his arm around his wife and smiling down at us benevolently. “There’s also a little something in the back to get you started on those memories.”
I let the pages fall until an envelope appears nestled between the last page and the back cover. I open it and find a sheaf of hundred-dollar bills inside.
Thankfully, Tori is quicker on her feet than I am, because all I’m currently capable of is feeling like a human incarnation of horse manure.
“We love it,” she says, getting up and going to give her family hugs.
I close the envelope and the album, then set it aside, which gives me enough time to get it together and follow Tori’s lead.
When Mrs. Sheppard hugs me, she whispers in a joyful but teary voice, “Welcome to the family, Luca,” and she holds on to me a few seconds longer. “You were unexpected, but you’re no less loved because of it.”
My throat thickens. How is this family so kind and welcoming when they have every reason not to be? It’s so foreign to me. It’s been a while since I’ve been part of any family—or even wanted to be—and I wonder if Tori realizes just how lucky she is.
She might have told them to keep the visit short, but the Sheppards seem like they’re planning on being here all day and evening. Given all the talking and eating and food prep going on, it’s not until Austin turns on the TV that I realize the recap of what’s happened in the first two days of the draft and the analyses for the remaining rounds are starting.
My nerves ramp up, going from zero to sixty. What if the Sheppards all came here and I don’t get drafted at all? I can’t imagine sitting on that couch for hours, my stomach dropping with each name that’s called that’s not my own, only to have it end with my name unannounced.
“Hey,” Troy says, shaking me from my thoughts, “would you mind holding her for a sec? Stevie needs help in the kitchen.” He lifts his baby, Eden, to indicate who exactly he wants me to hold.
I open my mouth to offer to help Stevie rather than taking the baby—I’ve never actually held one this small before—but Troy’s already handing her over.
I must look as awkward as I feel, trying to figure out how to support her weight because Troy smiles at me. “She loves being held on her tummy. Just think of her like a football. Protect her at all costs.” He slaps my shoulder, then leaves to help his wife.
He might’ve been joking about the football thing, but his advice actually helps, and miraculously, Eden doesn’t cry.
Tori comes over and smiles at her. Eden’s chin rests on my arm near my elbow, and she turns her head every which way with wide-eyed curiosity.
“She’s slobbering all over your arm,” Tori says.
I lean forward and confirm that the warmth I’ve been feeling on my arm is indeed a steady stream of slobber.
“Sorry if Troy foisted her on you,” Tori says.
“The distraction is good.”
She searches my face, then nods. “Good.”
My heart skips as I hear my name on the TV. Everyone cheers as the analysts discuss whether they think I’ll go in the fourth or fifth round. One says he sees me going to either the Copperheads or the Sunrays in fourth round, while the other argues I’m a 5th round Guardians shoo-in. The third one gives his input about the possibility of my not being selected until late seventh round or possibly at all due to my size and speed.
“There are just too many other great options for these teams trying to add depth to their chart in this position,” he argues.
His comments drop in the pit of my stomach like an anvil, but they’re followed by a chorus of boos.
“Shuuuut uuuup,” Siena says, throwing popcorn at the TV.
“Guy’s a complete fool,” says Jack. “Every team should have a really strong wide receiver on their roster.”
“Hey,” Tori says to me quietly.
I look at her, and she reaches up to wrap an errant hair around my bun. “That guy’s full of it. You’re getting picked today. I just know it.”
She doesn’t know it, but her words still help me calm a bit. It’s nice to be surrounded by a roomful of people who believe in me. Grandma always did, but before that, my mom’s boyfriend Clint was always making fun of my football dreams. Mom was mostly quiet. She never liked to go against Clint. He was a bully.
“Thanks for holding her,” Troy says, taking Eden from my arms. “Stevie always claims to need help opening jars, but really, she just wants to check out my muscles.” He winks at his wife, who rolls her eyes but smiles.
