I hear Elijah swallow hard next to me. “The night is still young.”

I chuckle. “I suppose that’s true. You feel ready for the game against Stephens City tomorrow?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he answers.

I hear a catch in his voice. It’s something I remember about Elijah, that when he’s this quiet for this long, he’s working up the courage to say something or ask something. I let the darkness fill the space around us, knowing that he’ll spill whatever he’s got in his head when he’s darn good and ready. I just need to give him the space.

My breathing falls into the rhythm of the night noises around me, and I can almost forget Elijah is sitting next to me. He’s so quiet and still. Behind us, muffled voices and music seep through the gym doors and spill out into the driveway.

“Our dads were friends,” he finally says into the darkness.

I turn my head to him. “What do you mean?”

“I found some pictures of them together in the shed last night when I got the pans for Ms. Birdie. Completely by accident,” he says. “You didn’t… you’ve never seen those pictures?”

“No. I didn’t…” I shake my head. “I knew Birdie had a box of his things in the shed, but I never looked through them. I couldn’t really… I just never did. I don’t remember him having any pictures of people other than family up in our house.”

“I don’t know if they were real close or anything, but they were definitely buddies. Football buddies,” he says.

“I wonder why no one ever told us,” I say. I try to wrap my head around it. My father was a football hero in Meridien. The only thing I know about Eric Vance is that he’s been in jail since just before Elijah and I started middle school.

Elijah is quiet after that. The crickets and bullfrogs seem even louder when we’re not talking.

“I’d never hurt you on purpose, you know,” Elijah says.

I turn to look at him in the dark. His face looks sad.

“That day in the locker room,” he says, looking down at his lap. “Things were complicated for me at home and… I didn’t mean…”

He lets out a heavy sigh and runs his hands through his hair before looking back up at me.

“I screwed up,” he says, reaching his hand across the concrete planter and finding my fingers. He loops his pinkie around mine.

“I thought you hated me,” I say.

“Not even close,” he answers without turning his head.

“You didn’t even say goodbye.”

Elijah shakes his head. “I couldn’t.”

“But that doesn’t even make any sense. Why couldn’t you talk to me? What did I do? You just… disappeared, Elijah. And I spent all these years just wondering what happened to you!”