Carrie trudges up to us, looking like she’s about to collapse. She’s got big purple circles under her eyes, which probably doesn’t help her measure up better against the young babysitter. I lean over and give her a hug. She hugs me back so tightly, it hurts my ribs.
“How are you doing?” I ask her.
“You know, the same.” She lets out a long breath. “And thank you again for the casseroles and cookies. I would starve to death if not for you, April.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
She’s looking at Maria curiously, so I quickly do the introductions. “Maria, this is Carrie. Carrie, this is Maria—she’s my new neighbor.”
Carrie raises a hand in greeting. “I’m the one who got dumped for the babysitter. Just so you know.”
Maria’s mouth falls open and Julie snorts. “For God’s sake, Carrie,” Julie says.
“What?” Carrie shrugs. “Everybody’s talking about it. You would probably tell her right after I left. I might as well own it, right?”
I respect that. I don’t think I would be nearly as upbeat in her situation. That’s why I make sure that all the babysitters I hire are very plain. Our current sitter is postmenopausal. Not that I don’t trust Elliot, but he’s already got Brianna at work. Why tempt fate? Especially after…
No, I promised myself I wouldn’t think about that anymore. It’s the distant past.
Carrie spends the next several minutes sharing her tales of woe. Her husband has been sending the husband-stealing babysitter over to pick up the kids on his days with them. It’s been driving Carrie crazy, and when she complained to him, he said, What’s the big deal? She was their babysitter.
“I’m this close to running him down with my car.” Carrie holds her index finger and thumb a millimeter apart. “Nobody would blame me. I’m sure of it. I’d probably just get community service.”
I wouldn’t blame her. Honestly, when I hear some of her stories about his shenanigans, sometimes I want to run him down with my car myself. And I would make sure Carrie had a good alibi if I did it.
Carries attention gets distracted by something in the field. After a second, I realize she’s looking at Sean, who is in a huddle with Owen, giving him some instructions. “Who is that? Single dad, I hope?”
Maria laughs. “No, that’s my husband.”
“Oh, sorry.” Carrie hesitates. “Actually, not sorry. He’s hot. Even hotter than Coach Mark. Lucky you.”
Maria laughs again, but this time her cheeks turn pink.
The game is about to start up with the other team, but before it does, Bobby separates from the other kids and runs over to me. His lower lip is jutting out.
“I don’t want to play,” he says.
Oh great. I can’t even imagine what it is this time. At the last practice, we spent the entire game searching for an open restroom or porta-potty. You would think they would have something available when there are so many young kids around.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” I ask.
“I don’t want to play,” he repeats, more insistently.
“Can you tell me why?”
His eyebrows scrunch together. “The other boys are better than me.”
Oh no. I didn’t think he had noticed how much better Owen was at soccer than him. But he would have to be blind not to. “No, they’re not.”
“Yes, they are! Leo is better and Owen is better…”
I bite my lip. I can’t help but think to myself that if only Elliot practiced with him all summer like he promised he would, we wouldn’t have this problem.
“Listen, Bobby.” I put a hand on his skinny shoulder. “The point of this game is to have fun. It’s okay if a couple of kids are better than you. And if they’re on your team, you’re more likely to win the game, right? And that’s fun, isn’t it?”
Bobby thinks it over for a minute. “I guess so.”
“The important thing is to try your very best. Just hit the ball as hard as you can.”
Bobby cracks a smile. “You mean kick the ball.”
I return his smile. “You kick the ball in soccer? I didn’t know that.”
The great thing about Bobby being seven is it’s usually easy to tease him out of a bad mood. After my little pep talk, he goes right back onto the field with enthusiasm. But maybe we do need to think about hiring somebody to give him extra lessons.
“Is Bobby okay?”
I turn my head and see Sean is standing next to Maria now, backing off to let the kids play their game.
“Yes, he’s fine,” I say quickly.
He clears his throat. “Listen, Owen and I practice soccer every Sunday. Bobby is welcome to join us anytime.”
I feel my cheeks grow warm. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you.”
“I don’t mind. It’s better with more kids.” He smiles. “It’ll be fun.”
“Well… okay.” I feel like a weight has been lifted. Elliot was never going to take Bobby to the park to practice. “Thanks so much! Really.”
His blue eyes meet mine. “No problem.”
I look over at Maria, but she’s not smiling. I try to catch her eye, but her attention seems focused on the field.
I have to say, I don’t entirely understand the soccer rules. I just find sports very uninteresting in general. Elliot will sometimes watch the game on TV, and I always go to the other room. But I get the general idea. One team is supposed to get the ball in one net, and the other team is supposed to get the ball in the other net. That’s enough to follow the game. Everything else is just extraneous information.
Bobby is not playing particularly well today. He’s had a few games where he’s made a lot of goals and been happy on the way home. That’s not the case today. But the team is doing well, largely thanks to Leo and Owen. Julie is cheering enthusiastically from the sidelines every time Leo scores a goal. She’s her kids’ biggest cheerleader.
I, on the other hand, am mostly shouting words of encouragement. “Come on, Bobby!” I call out. “Hit the ball!”
He looks up and makes a face at me.
Owen is kicking a ball down the field. Bobby is near the goal, but so is Leo. Owen looks between the two of them, and I’m certain he’s going to pass the ball to Leo. But at the last moment, he kicks it in Bobby’s direction. Bobby looks just as surprised as I feel, and he fumbles as he tries to kick that soccer ball as hard as he can, hoping to make his first goal of the game.
But the ball doesn’t go into the goal. It sails into the air, right at Leo Bressler’s face.
Which explodes in a fountain of blood.
Chapter 10
I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much blood. It was just a soccer ball, for God’s sake. It’s not like somebody shot him in the face. But there’s blood gushing out of Leo’s nostrils, quickly staining his white jersey as the boy sobs hysterically.
It’s making me a little queasy, to be honest.
Julie screams, of course. I can’t blame her, but it is a touch overdramatic. I mean, it’s just a bloody nose. Although as I said, it’s a lot of blood. Even Mark looks a bit sick.