Chapter 7
Haddie paced back and forth in front of the television, unable to concentrate on the one thing that usually set her mind at ease…as long as the U.S. Women’s National Team was winning its soccer match. But she still couldn’t get past the list in Principal Crawford’s email.
“I don’t think stewing about it is going to change anything,” Levi told her from where he sat on the couch, nursing an after-dinner beer as he tried to peek around her every time she crossed his line of sight from the couch to the TV.
“And I thought you wanted me to educate myself on the game some more.” He gestured toward the screen.
“Or can I give Coaches Lasso and Beard another go?”
“How are you not more upset about this?” she asked, coming to a halt.
Levi shrugged. “I am upset about it,” he replied.
“I think it sucks that other programs like Tommy’s debate team get the short end of the stick so the school can pour everything into the football program, but Coach Crawford isn’t wrong about bringing revenue to the town.
We’re known for football, and the better the varsity team does, the more game tickets we sell, and the better the whole school district does in the long run. ”
Haddie just stared at him. She was pretty sure that if she were a cartoon, steam would be pouring from her ears and nostrils.
“Short end of the stick?” she cried. “Short. End. Of. The. Stick? Levi, he’s getting rid of the soccer program after this school year.
The whole program. He’s not going to tell the students or families until after the season is over and he’s got the school board’s support, and there’s nothing we can do about it if we want to keep our jobs, which means there is nothing they can do about it either!
Tommy might have a little bit less in his team’s activity account, but he gets to keep his debate team.
But our teams?” She couldn’t form the right words to articulate all of the emotions she was feeling or why she was feeling them.
All she knew was that Principal Crawford’s “By the way, here are some upcoming budget cuts” email had knocked the wind out of her, and Levi’s response had been nothing more than a shrug accompanied by, “That really sucks.”
He finished his beer, set it on the end table, and then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees with a sigh.
“I know,” he admitted with at least a hint of feeling in his tone.
“But what’s done is done. Coach Crawford has been running this district since we were kids, and his word is pretty much law.
I mean, when it goes to the school board, anyone against it can attend the meeting and protest, but I’ve never seen a board not do Coach Crawford’s bidding. That’s life in Summertown.”
Haddie scoffed, hoping the hot sting of tears would take a back seat to her unmitigated anger.
“So that’s it? You’re just going to sit back and let him steamroll a whole program because ‘What’s done is done’?
” She crossed and uncrossed her arms, waiting for him to respond with something that would prove she hadn’t misjudged him, that the Levi she’d begun to know was more than just a really good first impression.
But when too many seconds had gone by and all he could do was offer her another sigh, she stormed into her room, slammed the door, and quickly changed into her running gear.
When she emerged barely five minutes later in her green fitted athletic tank and matching leggings, his only response was, “Where are you going?”
“I need to clear my head,” she told him, positioning her phone in her armband and inserting her earbuds. “Remember what I said in the parking lot about you surprising me each and every day?”
His brown eyes darkened and his jaw tightened. “I remember,” he replied coolly.
Haddie shrugged. “This time it’s not in a good way.”
She hit Play on her music app, and even though she saw Levi’s mouth open to respond, she didn’t give him a chance. She’d let him in, just the tiniest bit, and already she felt blindsided by how easily this new friendship could turn into hurt.
So she shook her head, swallowed the lump in her throat, and headed out the door.
She’d expected to be alone on the track, all the faculty having gone home for the night and no practices scheduled until tomorrow afternoon. But a lone figure circled the football field, and on the team bench she could see that lone figure’s sole spectator.
“Emma!” she called out, hitting Pause on her playlist, and her best friend looked up from her laptop, her face splitting into a grin when she saw Haddie.
“Hads!” Emma tossed her laptop to the bench and sprang to her feet, jogging across the field to meet Haddie where she stood in the end zone.
The two women embraced, and though Haddie was disappointed not to have some quiet time to process the recent events of the evening, she realized maybe this was better because the knot in her stomach was already starting to loosen just from Emma’s presence.
“I’m sorry we keep missing each other,” Haddie told her friend.
Emma—dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and a gray T-shirt that read, I’m not short. I’m just more down to earth than other people—waved her off.
“I know what back-to-school week is like,” Emma told her.
“Plus, we’re swamped at the inn with the end-of-summer rush, which is why I’m out here doing my real day job on my laptop while Matteo does his thing.
” She waved as Matteo came around their end of the field but kept running, his T-shirt—whatever it might have said—slung around his neck like a towel.
“Also,” she called to him, “you’re superhot, and I’m totally objectifying you every time you pass by! I hope that’s okay!”
He pointed to his earbuds and mouthed something along the lines of I can’t hear you and then waved back as he went on his merry way.
Haddie and Emma burst out laughing.
“Wow. How is it possible that I miss you when you live only, like, two minutes away?” Haddie asked.
Emma shrugged. “Because I’m so very missable. Duh.”
Haddie snorted. “This whole being-an-adult-and-working-for-a-living thing sucks sometimes.”
The corners of Emma’s mouth turned down. “Bad day at the office before the office even opens?”
Haddie sighed. “Kind of?”
Emma held out her arms and spun slowly. “Well, you’ve got this whole track almost to yourself to blow off some steam. Or…we can go hide out in the press box, and I can listen or try to play therapist. Whatever you need.”
Haddie nodded toward the bench where Emma’s laptop still lay. “Don’t you need to get back to your day job?”
“Day job, schmay job!” Emma exclaimed. “My favorite girl is here, and she needs me. Right?” She pressed her palms to Haddie’s cheeks and used her thumb and forefingers to move Haddie’s lips up and down.
“Yes, I totally need my best friend and don’t have to solve all of my problems on my own,” Emma added in a caricatured version of what Haddie guessed was meant to be Haddie’s voice.
Haddie gingerly grabbed her friend’s wrists and lowered her hands with only a tiny bit of an eye roll.
“Fine,” Emma said. “I will take your acquiescence to join me in the press box as your way of telling me you need me.”
Haddie groaned. “You know you’re the only person I’ll admit I need, right?”
Emma raised her brows. “And yet, you still haven’t actually admitted it.”
“I think I did,” Haddie replied. “Go get your laptop just in case a mosquito or praying mantis tries to run off with it. I’ll take one lap and meet you up there.”
Emma smiled and bounced on her toes. “Acquiescence is reading between the lines, and those blank spaces say You. Need. Me. Meet you up there in five.”
Emma jogged back to the bench while Haddie took to the track for one quick quarter of a mile to clear her head before meeting her best friend—the one who’d be there for her even if she never admitted how much she needed her—at the top of the Muskies bleachers.
“Okay, first of all…why are we even allowed in here?” Haddie asked as she climbed into the press box and sat down next to Emma in front of the window that looked out onto the field.
“Wait. Let me guess,” she continued. “No one locks doors in this quaint little town because nothing bad ever happens here.”
Emma laughed. “Or…Tommy stole Coach Crawford’s key back in high school and made a couple of copies, and Matteo swiped Levi’s when we were sophomores and never returned it.”
Haddie nodded approvingly. “I knew I liked Tommy the second I met him.” Then she winced.
Emma’s brows drew together. “Then why do you look like you just ate a lemon wedge?”
Haddie groaned and dropped her head to the announcer’s desk, banging it lightly against the damp, peeling wooden ledge. “Because it appears that I am and always will be a terrible judge of character.”
Emma slapped her palms on the desk, and Haddie jumped.
“Um…hellooo?” Emma said, pointing at herself with both her thumbs. “I am made 100 percent of extremely good character, no additives or preservatives, and you fell for me the second you met me.”
Haddie raised her brows and dipped her head toward Emma’s T-shirt. “After I got past the kitschy tees. It was touch and go before that.”
Emma stood and adopted an exaggerated runway-esque pose. “Except then you realized the tees make me happy, and that I make you happy, and we both lived happily ever after. The end.”
Haddie playfully flicked her friend’s messy topknot and sighed. “Yeah, I guess it was true love or soulmates or whatever you want to call it.”
Emma collapsed back into her chair. “And from what I know of Tommy Crawford, you’re pretty spot-on with your initial assessment of him, so where is this character-assessment doubt coming from?
” Her expression grew somber. “And if this is when we talk about Chicago, I promise to stop cracking jokes starting now.”