“Oh!” I moved my tiles. “Triple word score. Cool.” I made sure he was looking at me and smiled. “Thank you!” Henry said he could read lips pretty well, and I tried to enunciate and speak more slowly than my usual word vomit.

Smiling back, he nodded. His hair was white and stuck up at adorable angles from his head. He was small and a little stooped, but he’d had a shockingly strong grip when I shook his hand.

We’d gone to his room first, and Henry had given him a bag of presents to unwrap, including the soft green sweater he wore now. Henry wore a similar sweater over a button-up collared shirt and slacks.

That he’d dressed up for Christmas was just so cute. My family never did, but at least my dark jeans and Henley looked decent.

I’d picked up the chocolates at a convenience store, and Mr. Sakaguchi seemed to enjoy them. He sucked another as he put down “verdant,” the “v” on a triple letter square. Henry marked down his score on a pad of paper with a pencil, his hair falling over his forehead.

He’d need it trimmed before he went to Canadian Nationals. I wanted to reach over and brush it back, but kept my hands to myself. He examined his tiles, then tapped the spot his grandpa had just used with a little shake of his head.

“Ojiichan, I had a great plan.”

Mr. Sakaguchi grinned. “Boo hoo,” he said loudly.

“Savage!” I added.

Henry gave me a little smirk. “There’s no mercy in Scrabble.”

“Except you’re both helping me.”

He lifted a shoulder, eyes on his tiles. “You’re still learning how to play.”

“Where’s your famed killer instinct?” I tsked. “My mother would be so disappointed.”

He met my gaze. “I work hard to disappoint your mother.”

I laughed, but my stomach flipped. He could have been saying he was going to beat me for gold, but I wasn’t sure he meant that.

Mr. Sakaguchi slapped the table. “Time’s up.”

Henry put down “jockeys,” which of course made me think of underwear even though he meant the people who race horses. I was pretty sure that was what he meant.

Stop thinking about Henry and underwear!

It was my turn again to come up with a piddly word. Speaking of my mother, my phone was buzzing in my pocket, and I knew it was her. Sure enough, when I checked after my next turn, the screen was full of missed calls and texts. This was why I kept the ringer off most of the time.

“Okay?” Henry asked.

I shoved my phone back into my jeans. “Yeah, sorry. My mom has a lot of opinions about a fluff piece the network is doing for Nationals. They’re going hard on the Mr. Webber angle, and I don’t like it.” I rolled my eyes. “Of course the federation is all about playing up the dead coach angle, and my mom is friends with all of them. You know skating. Everyone knows everyone.”