He looked me over with his big gray eyes like he’s reading the instruction manual of me. With the plan of taking me apart or putting me back together, I had no idea. I started thinking over my options on who to call if they kicked me out of here before dark.
“No,” he said finally. “Tragedy of tragedies. Not on the JV team.”
Coach Winfield came down the stairway like something dumped out of a bucket, making a big man’s racket, talking before he’s even in the room. “Hey buddy, great to see you, sorry, practice ran long, we’ve got the Vikings Friday so you know what that means, Betsy said you’re a Lee County boy, is that right? So you know the territory . . .”
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, checking me out. He was big and broad, paunchy in that certain way of guys that start out all muscle before the beer takes over. Red cap, big black eyebrows. I couldn’t honestly say if I recognized him from the games, or just recognized the red windbreaker. “How old are you, young man?”
I was so used to lying, I actually had to think. “Twelve next month.”
He let out a long whistle.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Not a problem. That’s what she told me, starting middle school. I was expecting a different make and model. You look like a linebacker, son.”
“Yes sir,” I said, with my stomach doing a little hell-yes dance. God in his heaven kicking a field goal and the angels doing cartwheels in their twirly skirts. Home sweet home.
We didn’t eat at the giant table piled with crap, thanks to the Winfields having another table in the kitchen where it was a lot tidier on the whole. A lady named Mattie Kate set out the meat loaf and coleslaw and finished wiping down everything in sight with the tail of her apron, then said good night and left the three of us to eat our supper.
They didn’t say any blessing, just dug in. With Angus still wearing that hat at the table, and Coach in his, so this was not going to be one of those houses with rules. Maybe different ones, though. Too soon to relax. I fed my face, probably too much, too fast. The windows were open and I could hear a tractor and smell the hay that somebody was cutting outside. I was glad it wouldn’t be me putting it up in the barn. I wondered if I’d get sent to a farm again, after here. Probably yes. I’d started to see how being big for your age is a trap. They send you to wherever they need a grown-up body that can’t fight back.
We did more eating than talking, with Angus keeping the big gray eyes on me at all times. Giant eyes like a manga comic. Coach for his part had giant teeth, like too big, some way. Too flat across, too white. He didn’t smile much, and it looked like those teeth would hurt his lips if he tried. He asked the awkward things adults do if they’re making the effort, like what was my favorite subject in school. I told him lunch, which wasn’t a joke, but he laughed. I asked how the season was going so far, since I’d missed the first games. What I wondered was, How in hell is your son not doing JV football? It seemed like that would be a given. I mean, yes, I noticed the small hands and skinny shoulders, but still. It’s only JV. They’ll let anybody sit on a bench.
Afterward we piled up the dishes for Mattie Kate to do in the morning and Coach told Angus to get me settled in my room, which surprised me. My own room. I figured we’d be bunking together, but no. We went up the stairs and then more stairs and down a hall to a room that was one of the castle-type parts of the house, rounder than it was square. Six walls, painted dark green, white window trims. Three of the walls had huge windows.
“You can use that dresser,” Angus said. “Mattie Kate was supposed to clear it out if she had time. If you find anything in there, just throw it in the hall and she’ll get it tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I said, which I wouldn’t. Throwing things on the floor for somebody else to deal with, seriously? Whatever else might be said about me, I was housebroke. There’s no tooth fairy living here, so pick up your damn shit, being basically the motto of foster care. How Mom got through it, and still the way she was? One of God’s mysteries.
Angus started dragging open the big windows, saying it was stuffy in there, but I didn’t care. The smell reminded me of the Peggots’ attic. In back of the house the view was hills and hayfields as far as I could see. The guy was still down there on his tractor, working up and down his field in the yellow light of day’s end. The middle window looked down the driveway, and the front one looked across the top of Jonesville to a big hill behind it. I could see why they built houses like this, back in the day. Whoever launched an attack, you’d see them coming.
It was the best room I’d ever been in, and also the best house. I said so, but Angus just shrugged. “It’s too much house for us.”
“I didn’t think there was any such thing. Like too much money or too much food.”
“A person can eat too much. Obviously. People die of it.”
“Sign me up,” I said.
Again the big sad eyes, puddles on a sidewalk.
“Kidding,” I said. “Sorry. I won’t eat you all out of house and home or anything.”
“I don’t think you’ll get a choice. Dad likes the look of your frame, so he’s going to bulk you up like his new prime steer.”
“Snap,” I said. “Next comes the slaughter.”
He almost smiled. “That’s one word for the game. Said you, not me, for the record.”
“For the record, I never heard of anybody that died of being a linebacker. Maybe just fang-banged into a coma by horny cheerleaders.”
His half smile yanked back in so fast, like a slug if you touch his little horns. All pulled back inside the pissed-off black leather and the blank eyes. Shit. I was piling stupid on stupid here, but didn’t know how else to go. As far as I’d seen, the basis of friendship for guys past the age of bedwetting is trash talk. Throw “fuck” into any sentence and you’re dead hilarious.
“Tell your dad thanks for the bed,” I said. All else fails, try kissing up. “The last place I was living, I got the floor of the laundry room.”
“At Miss Woodall’s? She made you sleep on the floor?”
“No, not there. You know her? My grandmother?”
My grandmother. It felt like casually pulling a hundred bucks out of my pocket. I saw something move behind the eyes of Angus, like, Damn, dude. One hundred bucks.
“My mother used to take me to see her,” he said. “But I was too little to remember.”
Right. Before all the cancer and the death.
Angus showed me a bathroom that was for me and nobody else. Shower-tub combo. I’d find a way. His room and his dad’s were one floor down. I asked how many rooms were in the house total, which he didn’t know. Unbelievable. Counting is the first thing I’d do. I asked did they ever switch around.
“Why? You don’t like the room you’re in?”
“No, I mean you or your dad. Like if you got bored and moved into another one.”
He stared at me.
“Just every so often trying out different windows. I mean, it’s all here, so why not?”
“I might not be able to find him, is why not.”
