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“You’ll know it when you have it,” she whispered. “But you have plenty of time for that. Just have fun.”
We sat in silence, watching the game. The home team was winning. I didn’t knowhowI knew that Ralph was number twenty-four, but I did. He walked with the same dominance and bulldozing swagger he had when I first saw him. I watched him weave through players and take someone down. It looked painful.
Tracey cheered beside me, her cheeks even pinker. I watched the crowd after a while. Almost everyone’s eyes were on the game, but there were a few who watched me.
Before we knew it, half-time was upon us.
Tracey wiggled her legs nervously before jumping up and announcing that she needed hot chocolate.
I was moving my crutches to let her pass when she said she wanted me to accompany her.
“Besides, you need to take your meds,” she added.
The excuse didn’t make any sense, but before I could say as much, she helped me up and we were off. I struggled to keep up and when Tracey noticed, she slowed down, apologizing.
The speakers crackled to life. “On this Thanksgiving Day, we would like to honor the lives that were lost tragically just a few weeks ago.”
Tracey’s eyes widened and she pulled at me, insisting we get to the concession stand.
The rest of the words were lost in the crowd.
When Tracey noticed the long line for hot chocolate, she pursed her lips, like she was thinking of something else to get me away from the field and whatever was being said on the speaker. I didn’t blame her. People knew I was there, and I couldn’t sit in the bleachers, accepting the blame for the loss of those lives.
“I’m actually, uh, not feeling so great. Can we head home?” I asked her.
Tracey nodded sympathetically.
I figured Ralph would understand. At least I stayed for half the game.
Dexter
I was tinkeringon my computer when I heard voices downstairs. My stomach grumbled just as Ralph pushed my bedroom door open.
“Hey, shithead. We won. Way to ditch.” His voice was loud compared to the prior silence.
When I opened my mouth to explain, he laughed.
“I’m just kidding, man. Tracey filled me in.” He lay on my bed, his feet dangling from the edge. His blond hair had grown a little and was wet from a recent shower, bringing out the slight redness of it.
“Hungry?” I asked, smelling the scent of food from the now-open bedroom door.
He rolled over to face me. “You have no idea. My parents wanted me to eat with them, but I wasn’t up for General Tso’s. I want some turkey, dang it.”
“Food’s ready!” Tracey called.
At the sound of her voice, Ralph grabbed my crutches, threw my left arm over his shoulder, and hoisted me up. We stepped down the stairs carefully and Ralph helped me to the table.
“Those crutches are a thing of the past,” he said as he tossed them on the couch.
“Ha. Not yet.” I took a roll and bit into it with a groan.
“I used your mom’s recipes,” Tracey said with a smile as she set the turkey on the table. It looked perfect.
We sat around the table and Tracey’s eyes shone with pride. She’d given me a Thanksgiving. More than that, she’d given me a place at the table, and a feeling that I was part of something.
* * *
Physical therapy wasbrutal that morning. I was almost able to walk without crutches, though—a feat that made me happy. I didn’t want to go to school needing them. Part of me didn’t want to go at all. Whether I looked like I’d been hit by a car or not, people would have their opinions. And while the game was all right, I worried school would be something else entirely. I wouldn’t have Tracey, and Ralph wasn’t in all my classes.
