“Man, that explains it,” Justin says. “Mom wanted to take you to the hospital, but I talked her out of it. I think he went easy on you. You’re lucky.” He pauses. “But good luck at football practice tomorrow. I don’t know how you’re gonna put a helmet on. You look like a chipmunk with your cheeks like that.” He shakes his head and exits the room, closing the door behind him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mom asks, pulling herself together a bit.

“Yeah,” I say. “It’s not as bad is it looks.”

I can see the relief on her face as she says, “I know he acts tough around you, but your brother was scared to death when you came in. I don’t know what I would’ve done without his help.”

“He’s a pretty good brother.”

She sits down and puts her arm around me. “How come you never told me about Sarah?”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind lately.” I shrug. “We all have.”

“She’s a sweet girl.”

“The best,” I say, and smile. Soreness ripples through my cheeks, but I don’t care. “My stomach jumps around whenever I’m near her.”

“That means you’re in love.”

I think about Dad and wonder what Mom’s life was like before him.

“Did you ever love anybody before Dad?”

She looks at my face and winces. “Zach, are you sure you want to talk about this right now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say. “It’ll take my mind off of my face. What was his name?”

“Rick North was my first love. Seventh grade.”

Silence.

“Are you kidding me?” I finally say. “You were in love with Captain Rick?”

“Yes,” she says, like it’s no big deal. “The first boy I ever kissed ended up becoming a space shuttle pilot.” She laughs.

“You actually kissed Captain Rick? Holy shit!”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Sorry,” I say, laughing despite the pain it causes. “So what happened? I mean, why’d you two break up?”

“High school came. That’s when I met your father.”

Another silence.

“Do you ever wish—”

“No,” she interrupts. “I suppose Rick North could have been my ticket out of Blaine, but if you start second-guessing the past you’ll end up torturing yourself for life.”

“Sounds like something Coach Horton would say.”

“No,” she says, smiling. “Hank Horton’s not smart enough to think of something like that.”

I take a deep breath and say, “I know he touched you in the storage room. Justin told me.”

“Oh, that,” she says, as if it’s no big issue, but I can tell from her sudden frown that it is. “Well, thank God your brother showed up when he did that day.”

“Mind if I spit in Horton’s face tomorrow?”

She laughs and says, “You mean you’re actually going to practice with your face like that?”

“I’ll at least watch.”