“That sounds nice,” I tell her. “I’ll have Birdie give you a call.”

“You can even bring the Vance boy, I suppose. Camille tells me you’ve got Elijah living with you for a bit?”

I start to answer, but the professor doesn’t wait for me to form the words.

“Elijah Vance. Hm. I hope he’s not up to his old tricks,” she says, her face pinched.

Her words don’t sit right with me, but she walks away before she can see the look on my face. Elijah might be a lot of things, but he’s not the bad seed some of the people in this town think he is.

People start arriving in droves soon after we get the room set up. Camille, Elijah, and I are sitting at the front table, handing out bingo cards and daubers as Mr. Robles collects money. Almost every person who comes through the door has a handy football tip for me, or a warning about the Taylor game, which is still almost a month away at this point.

“That Taylor quarterback is going to spell trouble for you,” Ms. Brownie says, pointing a wrinkly finger in my face. “He’s just a sophomore and already being courted by Alabama.”

The whole town turns into armchair coaches and experts as soon as football season comes around. I never hear Ms. Brownie warning baseball pitchers or the basketball team about their games.

“Since when are you in charge of the scouting report?” Ms. Brownie’s sister says, poking her in the ribs with an elbow.

“I’ve been reading the newspaper. That Ray Remondo fella knows what he’s talking about,” Ms. Brownie says, nodding her head.

“Oh, sure he does.” Mr. Cooper comes through the line behind the sisters. “Last year he predicted Taylor would beat us by no less than twenty-seven points! They still beat us, but only by two!” He laughs so hard that he starts coughing.

“Both of you hush, now. You’ll see in a few weeks when those Taylor Titans come to town. I’d put money on us losing that game if I had any!” Ms. Brownie is the grumpiest woman in the county, and the only self-proclaimed “fan” of Crenshaw football that would openly bet against us.

Ms. Brownie’s proclamation brings on another bout of laugh-coughing from both her sister and Mr. Cooper.

“Our boys have got this in the bag.” Pastor Ernie joins the conversation as he follows Mr. Cooper in the line. “Isn’t that right, Elijah?”

“I’m going to do my best, sir,” he answers, handing the pastor two bingo cards.

Figg slides into line behind the pastor and puts his hand gently on his back. “Never say they’ve got it in the bag. Remember what happened twenty years ago?”