“Never mind that,” she says, tucking the towel into the waistband of her full flowery skirt. “You keep your head in the game. You’ll see ’em soon enough, when you get home after practice. Now get.” She pulls me close to her for a kiss on the forehead and then gently shoves me in the direction of my room.

I grab my backpack on the way. What kind of company will still be around after practice ends late on a Monday? Maybe someone is spending the night? Someone from Birdie’s book club or a church friend? Why would that be a surprise, though?

I put my backpack on the floor by my desk and straighten out the green blanket on my bed. I lay out the homework I have in order of difficulty, starting with calculus because it’s the easiest for me and ending with English because it’s my least favorite. I sit down at the desk with a sharpened pencil and my notebooks. The work is mindless, and I’m still distracted by Birdie’s secrecy about tonight’s guest. Does Birdie have a boyfriend? Is that why she wanted the good glass bowl and she’s wearing her favorite church skirt?

I quickly put the idea out of my head. Surely I would have noticed if some guy had started coming around.

Well, there is that one man at church who’s always hanging around her. Mr. Cooper. Only problem with that is Mr. Cooper is about eight hundred years old, and we just had a big birthday blowout a couple of years back for Birdie’s sixtieth. Maybe it’s someone from the other side of the county. Some lonely rancher who’s looking for a wife who can talk football.

I let myself settle into that fantasy, living the good life on some big ranch on the other side of town. I picture myself riding a horse and living in one of those houses behind the white vinyl fences while I finish up calculus and physics and at least look at my English lit assignment.