“I admit that everything you’ve told me sounds like you’ve lost touch with reality,” she said. “And at first I did think that might be the case . . . But if you’ve lost touch, then I have, too—because I do remember the Tsunamis, and I do know who Angela Johnson is.” Then she pulled out a pencil sketch she had done. It was Angela. The eyes were a little wrong, but not by much. Katie had drawn her entirely from the memory of a memory.

“This is her, isn’t it?”

I nodded, speechless.

“Did you find her? I want to talk to her,” Katie said. “I want to know if she remembers anything, too.”

“You can’t talk to her,” I told Katie.

“Why not?”

But now was not the time to get into it. Besides, it was just too painful, so I said, “She doesn’t live here anymore.”

Katie was disappointed but accepted it. “Do you think things are going to change again tonight?” she asked.

I nodded. “I’m counting on it.”

“Then promise me that after it happens, you’ll tell me what changed. And you’ll make me believe it.”

Twenty minutes later, we took to the field. Bright lights, cheering crowds. A sea of white faces. All wrong. But only for now. My parents were there. Hunter. And down front, with a good view, were the Edwards. One of them gave me an encouraging thumbs-up. Must have been Ed.

I was excited and ready, yet terrified and not ready at all. I was already moving in multiple directions at the same time, cycling through emotions like a roulette wheel. I knew what could go wrong. I knew the dangers, even if I didn’t know each outcome. I was ready for this. I could never be ready for this.

We stood for the national anthem in a world where no players have ever dared to take a knee. Coin flip. We’d kick, the Storks would receive. Then after the kickoff, the starting defensive squad took the field.

But the coach stopped me before I ran out.

“You’re not starting today, Ash,” he told me. Then he gestured to a knee-bouncing bench-warmer, just up from JV. “Svec!” he called. “You’re nose tackle. Get out there.”

Svec hopped up like an oversized puppy and raced to the line.

I was reeling. What the hell was going on? “Are you kidding me? Svec as nose tackle?”

“C’mon, it’s the Storks, Ash. We’ll wipe the floor with them, and this is the only chance some of our kids will get to play this season.”