Page 121 of The Last Guy On Earth
I shake my head.
“Mom told me not to do it unless they have helmets. So I asked, but they totally have helmets.”
“Well, that’s good to hear,” I say uselessly. That would have never occurred to me. Worst guardian ever.
“Grandpop went on a date,” he says next.
My eyes lift to my father, who’s standing awkwardly to the side.
“What?” he demands, his face reddening. “It’s just a date. Everybody dates.”
I shrug. “That’s cool. You’re the one making it weird, not me.”
He rolls his eyes.
“Where’d you meet her?”
“She bought the house next door!” Toby says. “Her name is Greta. She makes really good cookies. She calls them Snickerdoodles, but they aren’t like a Snickers at all.”
“Bummer. Still nice of her, though.”
“Yeah,” Toby says. “She comes over after dinner alot.”
“Twice,” my father corrects. “To play cards.”
“Cool.” I bury my smile.
Several of my teammates breeze into the lobby through the revolving door. “Lunch in ten,” Kapski says with a wave. “Third floor.”
“Aye aye, Kap.”
“Wait!” Toby says, springing up. “Can you sign this, Mr. Kapski?” He pulls a Sharpie and a pack of hockey cards out of his pocket and thrusts them at Kapski.
“Sure, buddy.”
Toby collects a few signatures, something I’ve never seen him do before.
“This is new,” I say to my father. “He’s never been a hockey fan.”
“His Michigan friends are,” my father says with a chuckle. “They told him that if Colorado wins, those cards would be valuable.”
“So he’s a little opportunist?”
My dad just shrugs.
Then Clay appears, and Toby swoops in on him, too. “Hi, Coach!”
“Hey, Toby. Mr. Hale.” He stops abruptly, smiling at my kid and then my dad. He puts his hands in his pockets. Then he pulls them out again, like he forgot how to stand still. “Are you ready for the game?”
“Yeah, but are you?” Toby demands. “I got a lot riding on this.”
Clay cracks a smile. “I’ll do my best, okay?”
“If you win, I’ll make you cupcakes,” Toby says.
“Hmm.” Clay crosses his arms across his chest and seems to think about it. “You know, it’s been a while since we made those, and I could use another one. All right. It’s a deal. Now I’d better get upstairs. Later, guys.” He trots off.
“Don’t forget the cream cheese,” I tell Toby. “And now I think I have to go with them for lunch.”
