No, Grant. No, I wasn’t actually. I was very, very different inside, but it was all covered up in lame questions and stupid jokes because I couldn’t admit the truth or I would collapse. That was the real Charlie, and I clamped her down because I couldn’t even handle her myself.

“Well…” His voice lilted with sarcasm. “I’m engaged. Do you give a shit?”

I looked up at him now, finally. His eyes bore into me, and I swallowed.

“Yes,” I whispered.

I rolled my eyes at myself. I wasn’t a meek and timid mouse, but that’s what was coming out. Coughing, I hit my chest with a fist and exclaimed, “I mean, yes, I do.”

Oh, Lord.

It came out booming now. All I had to do was throw my arm out to the side and it would be as if I was announcing the Seattle Thunder’s starting lineup.

His lip twitched.

That relaxed me. My lungs weren’t so shriveled up.

“Congratulations.”

His looked at me and lowered his head, seeming to study me. After a moment, he shook his head. “Yeah. Okay, kid. You and I can do our dance later.” He gestured around us. “Boss wanted this cleaned up and the net taken down. I’ll handle it.” He nodded to the cage. “You need to count everything in there.”

The cage was just what it sounded like: a small room set in the corner with two large doors, but only one was used to enter and exit. The other one had been cut in half. The bottom had the door handle. It could swing open and closed, but the other section of the door had been taken off, cut in half again and glued over the top so it looked like half a concession stand.

Years ago, it had looked rough, but they had made it look better. It looked like an equipment room any top-notch facility would use now. The budget had been good to this place.

Heading in, I switched on the light. The cage had been organized. All the balls were in place, the equipment in its spots. I scuffed my foot over the floor. Even that had been cleaned.

“Grant, you did this?”

He’d just cleared the screen door, but hollered back through it, “Nah.”

Grant wasn’t a liar, so that meant Mary had done it.

I yelled back, “Thank your mom for me, please.”

He raised a hand in response, crossing the first of the two courts.

I got myself to work, and I was kneeled down behind a partition, going through the second rack of hockey equipment, when I heard the first voices. They came closer and closer, and I couldn’t move.