I nod. It does. It doesn’t mean I’m exactly thrilled to go out and plan two hundred pranks now, but I can see Figg’s point.

“How are things with Elijah? Feeling a little more settled now?” he asks.

My cheeks burn, and I feel like the tips of my ears are on fire. “Things are definitely better,” I say, unable to keep a smile from pulling on my cheeks.

Figg raises his eyebrows. “Well, that’s nice to hear,” he says, giving me a side-eyed look.

“Hey, can I ask you a question? Just between us?” I ask.

“Absolutely. Shoot.”

“Was it… when those Taylor guys stuffed beach balls up their jerseys, was it because of Eric Vance? And Elijah’s mom? Was she pregnant with Frankie?”

Figg hangs his head. “Your grandmother is going to kill me for talking about this with you, but yes. It was Eric Vance the Taylor team was trying to get to. He was a real threat to them that year. A cornerback that was leading the league in interceptions.”

“Elijah was right,” I say. “He said it’s no wonder the entire town hates his dad and him by extension, since he made Crenshaw have to forfeit.”

“Well,” Figg says, bracing his feet on the floor. “That’s not exactly how it happened.”

“But Elijah said his dad apparently got kicked off the team his senior year because of the fight during the homecoming game. Why else would a guy leading the league in interceptions suddenly disappear from the roster?” I groan in frustration. “I just don’t know why everyone is so hush-hush about it. I’ve tried finding articles about it in old issues of the Register; I’ve asked Birdie about it. Short of bribing Mr. Cooper and demanding he tell me all the details, I don’t know where else to turn.”

Figg takes a deep breath through his nose and folds his hands over his stomach. I know this is something teachers do before they give you some kind of crappy news. Like You’ve failed the final and there’s no way you’re going to pass my class or We are reading The Odyssey in its original Greek and an essay is due on the author’s purpose next week.