Lisa Schroeder - The Bridge from You to Me

Benny and I hustle back to our lockers. “You nervous?” he

asks me.

“Do eagles fly?”

“You love answering a question with a question, don’t you?” He slaps my back. “No, these Eagles do not fly, Pynes. These Eagles play football. And these Eagles are counting on you, bro.”

Like I need to be reminded.

After practice, I go home, where Gram has scrambled enough eggs to feed the entire team.

“Sorry, no toast this morning,” she says. “We’re out of bread.”

“It’s okay,” I say before I drink the big glass of juice she’s poured. When I’m finished I tell her, “I’ll pick some up later for you. After practice?”

She shakes her head. “Why do they make you work so hard? I don’t like it.”

“It’ll be all right, Judith,” Grandpa says. “He’s strong and healthy. The coach just wants the boys in great shape for the first preseason game.”

Even though they’ve been here awhile now, it’s still weird having them around. Before they moved in with us, I came and went and Dad barely paid any attention. He works so much, he’s hardly ever here. I’m still trying to get used to curiosity and questions. And huge plates of scrambled eggs.

“You like the new coach?” Grandpa asks.

“He seems all right, I guess.” I reach down to get my wallet and show Grandpa the card. “Every player got one of these this morning.”

“Hm. I suppose he wants your head in the right place.” He looks at me. “You think it is?”

I started as wide receiver last year. Our quarterback, Seth Temple, and I are a great team. I pretty much catch anything Temple sends my way. I’m not too worried.

“My head is exactly where it should be,” I tell Grandpa before I shovel more eggs into my mouth. “Between my shoulders.”

Gram chuckles as she puts her hand on my back. “Yes, it is. And you’re going to do just fine.”

When I’ve had enough to eat, I stand up. “I’m tired. Think I’ll catch a nap before I head into work. Thanks for breakfast.”

“You’re welcome. We’ll keep the television down so we don’t wake you.”

I smile. “Don’t worry. After that practice, I think I can sleep through anything.”

“How was practice this morning?” Mr. Weir asks me as we go in the back so he can show me the shipment of boxes that came in earlier. I work at AutoZone part-time, mostly stocking shelves.

“Fine,” I say.

“Think it’s gonna be a good year?” he asks.

“Yeah, I think so,” I reply, mostly because that’s what he wants to hear.

This is how it is for most people here. They ask about football before anything else. Every year, as the sun burns high in the sky, August brings a new batch of hope to our town. Hope for a championship title. It may not come packed in boxes, like auto parts, but it’s there, and everyone feels it.

Especially the players.

For two and a half hours, I unpack parts and get them shelved. When I’m finished, Mr. Weir says that’s all he has for me and I’m free to go.

I punch out, and since I have a little time to kill before practice, I head to Whispering Willow Bookshop down the street.

“Colby,” Mr. McMann says from the counter when I walk

in the front door. “Good to see you. How’s it going? The team looking good so far?”

“You bet,” I say, because there it is again. Hope. Can’t escape it. “I think it’s gonna be a great year.”

“Awesome,” he says. “You here for that book you ordered?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What was the title again?”

“ Bridging the World .”

He turns around to a shelf on the wall where orders are stored. He pulls out the book and sets it on the counter.

“This is gorgeous,” he says, rubbing the cover. He gives me a curious look. “You interested in bridges, Colby?”

I feel my cheeks getting warm. “Nah. It’s, um, a gift. For my grandfather.”

Mr. McMann nods. “Ah. I see. That’s nice of you. I’m sure he’s going to love it.”

I get out my wallet and give him some cash. While he rings me up, he says, “Did I tell you I have a niece who’ll be at your school this year?”

“I don’t think so.”

He hands me my change. “Her name’s Lauren. Came here from Seattle. Really nice girl. She’s a little nervous about being the new kid. I keep telling her Willow High is a great school and she’s going to get along just fine there.”

I put my wallet away. “What year is she?”

“Senior. She’s been living with us for a few weeks now.”

I pick up the bag, wondering why she’s living with them. I don’t ask, though. None of my business. “Well, if I see her when school starts, I’ll tell her hello.”

He smiles. “Thanks. That’s real nice of you.” He nods at the book. “I hope your grandpa likes his gift.”

“Thanks a lot.”

There’s a bakery in the far corner of the shop, so I walk over there. Quite a few people are sitting at tables, reading books or magazines. I get in line to order, hoping to avoid being recognized, because I don’t want to talk about football practice or the new coach or how great this season is going to be.