I plop into the nearest desk with a sigh and yank the foil from the applesauce. My head is spinning. And I can’t even look forward to the second half of the day.

There are still at least three running plays I can’t remember reliably, and our first game is only two days away. My ribs are still buzzing, and I can’t guarantee that I’m going to feel 100 percent by Saturday afternoon. And now there’s this mess with the flag, and the whole school is looking for me to retaliate, when all I want to do is play football and forget about all the stupid pranks.

Not to mention, I’m still thinking about Birdie and her meeting with Pastor Ernie and wondering what she’s up to and why she won’t tell me about it.

And of course, there’s Elijah.

Elijah, who painted parsley on my ribs last night.

Elijah, who is sleeping in the bedroom next to mine.

Elijah, who basically abandoned me three years ago and seems to have moved past everything that I haven’t been able to shake.

“Weight of the world on you?” Figg asks as I sit there in silence.

“You have no idea,” I tell him, shoving a spoonful of applesauce in my mouth.

“Want to talk about it? Or is it more of a private weight?”

“You don’t want to hear about this stuff,” I tell him, trying to sit more upright in the chair. I don’t know if I’m ready to unload all this stuff on Figg. I do wonder if he knows anything about Pastor Ernie meeting with Birdie last night, but even if he does, I doubt he’d tell me. He’d probably brush it off with one of those classic Figg “just adult stuff” excuses he uses if he can’t talk about something.

“Why don’t you try me? My ears still work pretty well, and every so often I have a decent thought or two to lend.” He smiles between bites.

“I failed an English quiz,” I say.

He laughs. “Call the authorities!”

I cut my eyes at him and smirk.

“Julian, you’re allowed to screw up once in a while. What happened?”

“I didn’t read the entire assignment, and I walked into the quiz without knowing anything.”

“Well, that’ll do it. What kept you from reading the assignment?”

I hang my head again. “Things just got busy.”

“There’s a lot going on at your house right now, huh?” Figg comes around the desk and leans against it with his arms crossed.

“Yeah.”

“I can understand that.”

Figg just watches me as I try to choke down a couple of chicken nuggets. I can feel that he wants to say more, but he’s giving me space.