Page 133 of Most Valuable Players
“Yeah?” He smiles wider like he’d been expecting me to say no, then takes my backpack off my shoulder and carries it to his room.
He puts my bag on the floor and then clears the clothes and books off his bed so we can sit. There’s a box addressed to him at the end, still unopened. “What’s that?”
“Oh, uh, my brother and his fiancée send me these care packages every month.” He looks a little uncomfortable to admit it.
“My mom did that for Adam his first semester.” Now that I think of it, she hasn’t sent me one yet, although she has been distracted with all the fabulous trips they’ve been taking. The last time I talked to her, she and my dad had just returned from one trip and she was already planning another with her girlfriends. “Every month?”
“Yeah, pretty much without fail.”
“What’s inside?”
“Random shit, different every month.” He pulls at the tape and dives in, looking more excited than he’d seemed a few seconds ago.
“Gift card.” He sets it on the bed. “Granola bars, gum. Nathan must have put this one together.”
“You guys are pretty close then?” I ask as I watch him pull out more stuff (all food-related, shocker) and lay it on the bed.
“Yeah, we’re cool, but it makes me crazy how he’s always trying to take care of me like I’m still a kid.”
“I get that. Man, do I get that, but this is really nice.” I motion to the gifts laid out on the bed.
“But I don’t need him to send me stuff. I could buy all this on my own. Our dad passed when I was in middle school, so I think he feels like he needs to step into those shoes and make sure I’m okay.”
“Or maybe he just wants to show you he cares with stuff he thinks you might need or want.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He laughs lightly and picks up a Ziploc bag filled with quarters. “What do you suppose he was trying to say with this?”
“I have no idea.” I take the bag. It’s heavy and must have at least ten dollars’ worth of quarters in it. “Enjoy the vending machines?”
14
HEATH
Aknock at the door breaks my concentration and I rub the back of my neck as I call, “Come in.”
Adam steps into my room with a beer in each hand. He holds one out to me. “You know there’s a party out there, yeah?”
I accept the drink and set it on the desk. “I’m just finishing up work.”
He takes a seat on my bed. “You’re still working for that sports website?”
“I am. Jon in Texas wants to know how many hours a day he needs to practice in order to make his high school team.”
Adam pauses with the beer up to his lips. “Depends on how bad he is.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna need a more polite way to say that.”
He considers for a moment. “Tell him to focus on quality sessions, practicing until he masters small skills instead of focusing on time. Quality over quantity.”
“Not bad.”
“I won’t even charge you for using it.” He stands. “Hurry up, someone needs to beat Rauthruss at Halo and you’re the only one that can. It’s a matter of life or death, man. His ego is going to make his head explode.”
I pop the top of the beer and take a long drink before answering Jon. Nathan got me a job working for Reeves Sports, an instructional sports website owned by pro-golfer Lincoln Reeves, the summer before I started college. Linc has become a good buddy, so even though things aren’t so destitute anymore that I need to have a job, it’s nice to have extra cash. And the job itself is fun. I answer questions from hockey players all over the world looking to up their game.
The party is loud, and Maverick is louder when I finally close my laptop and head out to the living room. I grab another beer and make a lap to see who came. It’s mostly the usual suspects, the team, their girlfriends, puck bunnies, but the sight of Ginny on the deck playing flip cup makes me smile.
It’s her turn, and she chugs her beer and then sets her cup on the edge of the table, flipping it over on the rim her first try. She squeals and the next person goes.
