“I’m not that bad,” I say, leaning against the bench. “My pops took me when I was ten or eleven. I think my dad was kind of nervous about all the violence, but it wasn’t that scary. I mean, the murderer has to stop every few minutes to break into song.”

“Wait, wait,” Miles says, moving his ice cream away from his mouth. “Which one wanted to talk to me earlier?”

“Oh, my pops. Dude, he’s so messy,” I say, heart fluttering as he laughs. “He doesn’t like to punish me, I guess, so he does these weird life lessons. I think it’s because he’s an English teacher. He always wants to find teachable moments.”

“Your parents don’t punish you? Are you even black?”

I shove him, and he moves his ice cream cone to the other hand.

“Punishments aren’t part of black culture,” I say. “Some things are, like getting your hair done, maybe, but not punishments.”

“Whatever you say. At least my parents don’t care if I talk on the phone.”

“That’s because you fell asleep,” I say, a teasing lilt to my voice. “It doesn’t count as talking when you’re out cold.”

“You fell asleep, too!”

“Not first,” I say, even though I can’t remember. “That was totally you. I bet you don’t even have a curfew, because your parents know you’ll be in bed by seven-thirty.”

“Oh, shut up.” He tosses an arm around my shoulder. “When I still had lacrosse practice, I didn’t go to bed until eleven a lot of nights.”

“Eleven?” I gasp dramatically. “How did you function?”

He tries to frown, but the corners of his mouth keep turning up.

“What made you pick lacrosse, anyway? It’s so violent.” I shudder. “Might as well choose football.”

“Nope. No. Football and lacrosse are completely different.” He shakes his head. “That’s insulting.”

“What’s the difference?” To me, all sports that don’t involve Serena Williams are the same. “They both involve guys running around a field, throwing a ball, and shoving each other.”

“Lacrosse is actually fun,” he says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “And my best friends are on the team. We’ve been doing it since third grade, you know? It feels like the only thing I’m good at.”

My eyes roam over his face. He said I look different when I talk about musicals, and I’m trying to figure out if it’s the same with him and lacrosse. Do his eyes light up? Can I actually see his love of the game? But then I realize that Miles always looks excited like that. His mouth turns up and he moves his body forward and grabs hold of your attention.