texted him.
“Sorry,” I whispered. “I hope he never comes home that way again.” I placed my palm on the fence as if I had somehow just sent that message to Braden. Then I sat down on the dirt. It felt warm between my fingers. “I dream about my mom,” I said to the moon. “How is it possible to miss someone I never knew?”
If Braden were out here, what would be my match? What did he dream about? Leaving this place? He was a year older than I was, like Gage. He’d be a senior this year. And then what? I knew in my heart he’d be gone as soon as he turned in his graduation robes. With a home life like his, what did he have to stay for? My heart sank with that thought. I hoped his friendship with our family, with Gage . . . with me, might keep him here.
Chapter 11
“I know how to play,” I said, shaking Braden’s hand off my arm. “Don’t be all condescending with me.”
“I’m just trying to help your technique, Charlie.”
“I’m sorry, did you become a professional disc golf instructor and forgot to tell any of us?”
He grunted. “You’re so stubborn.”
“If I had asked for help, I would accept your help.”
Jerom joined in. “That’s the issue—you never ask for help.”
“Because I don’t need help. Now back up before I whack you all in the head with this.”
Braden took a large, deliberate step back.
I analyzed the positions of the trees around us, hoping I didn’t hit any of them and prove him right. Nature had provided plenty of obstacles in this park. A dog to our left barked and then ran past us chasing a tennis ball; its owner let out a whistle.
I shook off the distractions, stood up straighter, then threw the Frisbee. It landed within five feet of the basket. Way closer than where Braden’s sat at least ten feet from mine. “So there.”
He rolled his eyes like he wished Fate had taught me a lesson right then and he was frustrated it didn’t. Maybe he should open his eyes and see that Fate might’ve been trying to teach him a lesson.
Gage and Braden exchanged a look, and based on Gage’s sly smile, I knew they had secretly agreed on some form of punishment for my behavior.
“I’m up,” Gage said. He started to throw when Nathan stopped him.
“Your foot is over your marker.”
We all looked down at his foot, which was several inches past where his marker indicated it should be. “Nathan, don’t be anal,” Gage said.
“Fine, if you want to cheat, that’s on you.”
Gage growled and inched his foot back. He chucked his Frisbee. It careened into a bush off to the right. Nathan laughed.
“You got in my head, Nathan.”
“You let me in, sucker.”
Gage tromped off to find his Frisbee. When he came out of the bush, leaves all over his shirt, he held up his own tie-dyed Frisbee and an additional bright red one. “I found a lost soul.”
“The owner’s info should be on the back,” Jerom said.
Gage turned it over. “Lookie here. This Frisbee belongs to a Miss Lauren Fletcher.”
“A girl who plays disc golf?” Jerom said. “That’s hot.”
Gage curled his lip. “I don’t know. A girl who plays disc golf? She’s probably a dog. Some aggressive, burly thing.”
The guys laughed, not seeming to realize I was standing right there . . . playing disc golf. Maybe that’s how they saw me. Maybe that’s how most guys saw me.
Nathan grabbed the disc from Gage and shoved it in his equipment bag. “The least we can do is return her Frisbee.”
“Be my guest,” Gage said.
It wasn’t until close to the end of the course that I knew what Braden and Gage had secretly agreed to earlier. As we passed a muddy pond that tried to pretend it was a scenic lake, Braden grabbed me by my arms and Gage took hold of my feet. I kicked and struggled, but they held tight.
“You see, Jerom,” Braden said, “let me teach you the proper way to throw someone into a body of water.”
“I’ve always wondered if my technique was a little off,” he said,
“Sorry,” I whispered. “I hope he never comes home that way again.” I placed my palm on the fence as if I had somehow just sent that message to Braden. Then I sat down on the dirt. It felt warm between my fingers. “I dream about my mom,” I said to the moon. “How is it possible to miss someone I never knew?”
If Braden were out here, what would be my match? What did he dream about? Leaving this place? He was a year older than I was, like Gage. He’d be a senior this year. And then what? I knew in my heart he’d be gone as soon as he turned in his graduation robes. With a home life like his, what did he have to stay for? My heart sank with that thought. I hoped his friendship with our family, with Gage . . . with me, might keep him here.
Chapter 11
“I know how to play,” I said, shaking Braden’s hand off my arm. “Don’t be all condescending with me.”
“I’m just trying to help your technique, Charlie.”
“I’m sorry, did you become a professional disc golf instructor and forgot to tell any of us?”
He grunted. “You’re so stubborn.”
“If I had asked for help, I would accept your help.”
Jerom joined in. “That’s the issue—you never ask for help.”
“Because I don’t need help. Now back up before I whack you all in the head with this.”
Braden took a large, deliberate step back.
I analyzed the positions of the trees around us, hoping I didn’t hit any of them and prove him right. Nature had provided plenty of obstacles in this park. A dog to our left barked and then ran past us chasing a tennis ball; its owner let out a whistle.
I shook off the distractions, stood up straighter, then threw the Frisbee. It landed within five feet of the basket. Way closer than where Braden’s sat at least ten feet from mine. “So there.”
He rolled his eyes like he wished Fate had taught me a lesson right then and he was frustrated it didn’t. Maybe he should open his eyes and see that Fate might’ve been trying to teach him a lesson.
Gage and Braden exchanged a look, and based on Gage’s sly smile, I knew they had secretly agreed on some form of punishment for my behavior.
“I’m up,” Gage said. He started to throw when Nathan stopped him.
“Your foot is over your marker.”
We all looked down at his foot, which was several inches past where his marker indicated it should be. “Nathan, don’t be anal,” Gage said.
“Fine, if you want to cheat, that’s on you.”
Gage growled and inched his foot back. He chucked his Frisbee. It careened into a bush off to the right. Nathan laughed.
“You got in my head, Nathan.”
“You let me in, sucker.”
Gage tromped off to find his Frisbee. When he came out of the bush, leaves all over his shirt, he held up his own tie-dyed Frisbee and an additional bright red one. “I found a lost soul.”
“The owner’s info should be on the back,” Jerom said.
Gage turned it over. “Lookie here. This Frisbee belongs to a Miss Lauren Fletcher.”
“A girl who plays disc golf?” Jerom said. “That’s hot.”
Gage curled his lip. “I don’t know. A girl who plays disc golf? She’s probably a dog. Some aggressive, burly thing.”
The guys laughed, not seeming to realize I was standing right there . . . playing disc golf. Maybe that’s how they saw me. Maybe that’s how most guys saw me.
Nathan grabbed the disc from Gage and shoved it in his equipment bag. “The least we can do is return her Frisbee.”
“Be my guest,” Gage said.
It wasn’t until close to the end of the course that I knew what Braden and Gage had secretly agreed to earlier. As we passed a muddy pond that tried to pretend it was a scenic lake, Braden grabbed me by my arms and Gage took hold of my feet. I kicked and struggled, but they held tight.
“You see, Jerom,” Braden said, “let me teach you the proper way to throw someone into a body of water.”
“I’ve always wondered if my technique was a little off,” he said,
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