Page 44 of The Fall Classic

It says so. In the text. That I’m reading right now.

The boy cut it down, Georgie.

He

Cut

It

Down.

It’s not dead, but surviving isn’t “happy.”

Georgie

I concede your point, but I still think there’s more there.

Logan

It’s okay. I can wait for you to come around.

I laugh, and we send a few more texts about the story until I ask him about the game.

Logan

Not our best game. But I wasn’t playing, so I can’t take credit for the loss.

I try to take credit for all wins, though. Even if I didn’t play.

I laugh and stand up to check the fridge. There are still tamales from Alma’s drop-off a couple of days ago. I heat one up and then send off another text.

Georgie

That’s a bold strategy. How’s it working?

Logan

I have no idea, but credit usually flows toward the most confident guy in the room, so I’ll fake it till I take it.

Georgie

I should try that with Marlowe.

I stare at my text. That was way, way more than I meant to give. I wait, the phone warm in my hand.

Logan

Marlowe’s your stepmom, right? Does that happen a lot?

Georgie

I shouldn’t have said anything. It was just a bad joke.

Logan

I know something about those kind of jokes. I think Freud would call them slips, but *I* never would.

I can’t quite smile, and even though Alma’s tamales are the best in the state, when I take the first bite, it tastes like cardboard.