“I’m fine,” I tell her. I keep the doubts behind my teeth. The way some people looked at me at bingo last night. I heard some of the things they were saying about me. Julian’s reaction to seeing me for the first time and later his comments about the pregnant cheerleader. The ache in my gut when I realized just how much I’d missed him. Me, afraid to tell him about Frankie and Coley. Feeling like I take up too much space at Ms. Birdie’s house.

She looks at me for a beat longer than is comfortable and then leans back in her swivel chair. “You can always come talk to me,” she says. “My door is always open.”

“Thank you,” I tell her. “That… that means a lot.”

She hands me my new schedule with US history right before football at the end of the day. “You can start this schedule tomorrow, okay? Just sit through that freshman class one more day, and tell Mrs. Schad you’ll be out of there tomorrow.”

“Will do.”

“I’m not just here to fix schedules, you know.” She smiles.

“I know.” I smile back, glad that she’s here. I throw one more glance up at the picture of her with Frankie before heading out of the office.

The rest of my school day is a lot better than Tuesday. I notice a few more familiar faces in my classes, and a few of the football players invite me to eat lunch with them. I’m sitting at the end of the table and I’m kind of on the outskirts of most of the conversations, but that doesn’t matter. At least I’m not alone.

I feel better by the time seventh period rolls around, and I change my clothes as quickly as I can and run out onto the practice field. I do a few high-knee laps on the sidelines while I wait for Julian and the rest of the team to come outside.

“Short practice today, fellas,” Coach Marcus tells us when Julian starts the stretches. “Powder Puff game after this, and I expect all of you on the sidelines if you’re not coaching.”

A small crowd of pink-and-purple-shirt-clad fans are already gathering in the bleachers. Guess our practice will serve as the warm-up act for the Powder Puff game.

“Defense with Coach Andrews!” Coach Marcus blows his whistle and points to the fifty-yard line after the warm-ups. “Elijah Vance, you’re with me.”

I jog over to him, carrying my helmet under my arm.

“Yes, Coach?”

“I’d like to try something different with you today,” he says.

“Okay?”

“You’ve got to be willing to give it a chance. Keep an open mind. Will you trust me?”

“I trust you,” I say, wondering what his plan is. Is he going to make me a kicker or something?