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“I had a damn good Big Mac. And a chocolate shake.”
Ali glanced over her shoulder. “You weren’t able to make it home?” Dwayne didn’t live more than two hours from Hopperville.
“Nah. My mom had a shift. Didn’t make sense to drive out just for a slice of pie when I had to be here today to work on this.” He motioned at the monitor, the cursor flashing at the end of just a few lines of text. “Next year. I really love pie.”
Trying to ignore the pang of sadness over the idea that Dwayne spent his Thanksgiving with a Big Mac in his dorm room, Ali pressed her lips together and stepped into her office, leaving Mowgli in the computer lab at Dwayne’s feet. She slumped into her chair with a heavy sigh before switching on her computer, biting her lip as she waited for it to boot up. With the door open, she could hear Dwayne groaning, flipping through the pages of his notebook, pressing on a few keys.
He’s a big boy,Ali reminded herself. He’ll figure it out.
She opened her inbox, pulling up an empty email, and began drafting.
Dear Dean Holder,
I am writing to inform you of my official resignation…
Ali paused, deleting the line. Cold. It was so cold. She had known Dean Holder since he was assistant dean, since he hired her seven years ago when he gave her the opportunity to change Hopperville’s reputation from a football powerhouse to a football powerhouse that was packed with student athletes who actually graduated.
There had been far more positive outcomes than negative ones in seven years. The stories never changed. These kids came from broken homes, late-diagnosed learning disorders, and a profound absence of a support system. But they all walked into Ali’s office with a dream that they could make it out. And Ali knew that dreams could become reality with encouragement. She sighed, glancing at the photo of her and Cornell on her desk. And tough love.
Ali knew she and Cornell weren’t perfect. Ali was stubborn and Cornell was often too selfless to the point of self-destruction. He wanted an accent wall in the living room, and she wanted to keep it all white. Cornell’s first thing on the grocery list was sugary cereal and gummy bears, and Ali’s fruit and vegetables. But the balance between them that they learned to find at home was only exemplative of where they found it in the first place—at work.
At work, they were perfect. At work, they were a team. Ali suddenly felt guilty that she was abandoning her quarterback during the most important game of his life.
She could hear Dwayne mumble something to Mowgli, and Ali knew, by letting her fear drive the play there wouldn’t be anyone to tell Dwayne or Julian, or the next influx of players, “You’ve done harder things.”
You’ve done harder things, she told herself. They’re done. They already happened. They’re not here in this office, they’re in the past, in your head. Three things you can see—your computer, your couch, the candy drawer you haven’t filled up since September.
Ali frowned to herself but kept going. Two things you smell—the antiseptic cleaner Jose wiped your desk with before he left for the holiday weekend and the ever-embedded scent of school.
Ali didn’t have to think about one thing she heard. It was Dwayne, talking to himself. “Don’t got time for this bullshit.”
She stood up, grabbed her keys, and flew into the computer lab, startling Mowgli. “Are you going to be here for a bit?” Ali asked Dwayne.
“I’ve got four more pages to write,” Dwayne said pathetically, pointing at the document on the monitor.
“Watch him for me, will you? I’ll be back. Keep working while I’m gone.”
Ali jogged out of the building and to her car, nodding to herself the entire eight-minute drive back home. She left the car running and went to the kitchen, grabbing forks and the wrapped, whole pecan pie from the counter. Cornell would be home soon to change before practice and find the counter empty of his favorite treat in the world.
But when she returned to school, finding Dwayne in the same place, hunched over the keyboard, still working just as she had told him, Ali knew Cornell would forgive her.
“Alright,” she said, sitting next to Dwayne. “What’s the topic? Let’s talk it out.”
* * *
“Wait, what’s happening?” Tara asked, voice frantic.
Celeste reached across Lucy to pat Tara’s arm. “It’s a time out, dear. Try not to worry too much. Wrinkles.”
Tara shook her head. “Why are they calling a time out?”
“Smart move,” Peter said. “They’re going to need a big play.”
“Really big,” John agreed.
“My heart stopped for a second,” Tara said. “I thought they lost. You didn’t tell me this would be so intense.” She looked at Ali. “I need a drink.”
Ali laughed. “After.” She took a deep breath, looking at the tied scoreboard with only a few seconds on the clock. “I just hope it’s going to be a celebratory one.”
