of spaghetti. I barely even noticed the business talk they were throwing back and forth. The only thing that caught my attention was when Dad mentioned someone named Alan Scapelli and Mom got really quiet all of a sudden.
“Don’t start on Alan again. He’s a good guy. He’s just got some weird business ideas,” Dad said, probably reading the look on Mom’s face.
“Like what?” I asked.
Mom pointed to Dad with her fork. “Your father thought it’d be a good idea to invest in a man who wants to buy up all the pennies in the southeast USA.”
I almost choked on a noodle. “Seriously? Dad, that’s just—weird.”
“It’s not weird. It’s forward thinking,” Dad said.
Mom mouthed, No, weird.
“Carol, stop. And it’s not just pennies. It’s any older coin.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“Well, a lot of old coins are made from copper or silver. And they’re worth more than their face value. So he’s using the money I— we —invested and buying as many as he can. Then reselling them to companies that are looking for those types of metals.”
I let it sit with me for a second. And then I shook my head and said, “Mom’s right, that’s weird.”
“This is why you’re my favorite child,” she said, pretending to pinch my cheek.
Dad huffed. “Fine. But I’ve already got my I told you so speech ready when Alan comes through.”
“Can’t wait to hear that one.” Mom smiled, but I could tell she was still irritated with him.
We spent the rest of dinner talking about anything we could except coins or money. I decided my feet could suffer through another season being cramped in a pair of slightly-too-small cleats.
By my first game on Thursday, I was having muscle pains in parts of my body I didn’t even know could get sore. Like the back of the knee. How does that even work?
Luckily, all I had to do was hold the bench down with my butt. My knee-rears got to rest all the way through the first half of the game. I even untied my cleats so my toes could breathe.
During halftime, the speakers belted out the same Lynyrd Skynyrd songs they always played, and a bunch of people got up for bathroom breaks and concession stand visits.
I limped to the fence to talk to Kassie, Carson, and Austin.
“Hey, guys.”
“Everyone, look! It’s Dillon Parker,” Kassie said, pretending to swoon.
“Think you’ll actually get to do something this year besides keep the bench warm?” Austin asked.
“Um, ouch. Good to see you’re feeling better,” I said.
“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m fine.” His eyes dropped to his feet.
“Was it the fries? Because those things gave me some serious gas.”
“Dude, I said I’m fine. It was nothing.” He smiled, but I could tell it was fake. There was something he wasn’t telling me.
I decided halftime during my first game wasn’t the best place to get into it. “Anyway, I’ve been getting to run plays every now and then during practice. Coach said I was pretty fast. Even got a slap on the butt from DeMarcus.”
Carson’s mouth fell open. “I hate you.”
Me and Kassie laughed. I spotted Sarah snapping pictures of the crowd. “I better get back before Sarah sees me talking to you guys.”
I waved at my parents on the top row and headed back toward the sidelines.
The second half of the game was like a replay of the first. Our offense was way better than Pine Ridge’s. We scored two more touchdowns and kept them from even getting near the end zone.
My favorite play was the one where DeMarcus would toss the ball to the fullback, Cody Ryans. He’d run one way like he was going to go right. But then hand it off to Bobby Fleagle, who’d take off in the opposite direction.
Classic fakeroo.
Before lunch on Friday, I texted Kassie an idea in the middle of math class.
Me: hey let’s see if mrs. kellerman will let us eat in the room.
Kassie: y? u need help with homework?
Me: no we can all eat together. im tired of sitting with sarah.
There was a pause. I
“Don’t start on Alan again. He’s a good guy. He’s just got some weird business ideas,” Dad said, probably reading the look on Mom’s face.
“Like what?” I asked.
Mom pointed to Dad with her fork. “Your father thought it’d be a good idea to invest in a man who wants to buy up all the pennies in the southeast USA.”
I almost choked on a noodle. “Seriously? Dad, that’s just—weird.”
“It’s not weird. It’s forward thinking,” Dad said.
Mom mouthed, No, weird.
“Carol, stop. And it’s not just pennies. It’s any older coin.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“Well, a lot of old coins are made from copper or silver. And they’re worth more than their face value. So he’s using the money I— we —invested and buying as many as he can. Then reselling them to companies that are looking for those types of metals.”
I let it sit with me for a second. And then I shook my head and said, “Mom’s right, that’s weird.”
“This is why you’re my favorite child,” she said, pretending to pinch my cheek.
Dad huffed. “Fine. But I’ve already got my I told you so speech ready when Alan comes through.”
“Can’t wait to hear that one.” Mom smiled, but I could tell she was still irritated with him.
We spent the rest of dinner talking about anything we could except coins or money. I decided my feet could suffer through another season being cramped in a pair of slightly-too-small cleats.
By my first game on Thursday, I was having muscle pains in parts of my body I didn’t even know could get sore. Like the back of the knee. How does that even work?
Luckily, all I had to do was hold the bench down with my butt. My knee-rears got to rest all the way through the first half of the game. I even untied my cleats so my toes could breathe.
During halftime, the speakers belted out the same Lynyrd Skynyrd songs they always played, and a bunch of people got up for bathroom breaks and concession stand visits.
I limped to the fence to talk to Kassie, Carson, and Austin.
“Hey, guys.”
“Everyone, look! It’s Dillon Parker,” Kassie said, pretending to swoon.
“Think you’ll actually get to do something this year besides keep the bench warm?” Austin asked.
“Um, ouch. Good to see you’re feeling better,” I said.
“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m fine.” His eyes dropped to his feet.
“Was it the fries? Because those things gave me some serious gas.”
“Dude, I said I’m fine. It was nothing.” He smiled, but I could tell it was fake. There was something he wasn’t telling me.
I decided halftime during my first game wasn’t the best place to get into it. “Anyway, I’ve been getting to run plays every now and then during practice. Coach said I was pretty fast. Even got a slap on the butt from DeMarcus.”
Carson’s mouth fell open. “I hate you.”
Me and Kassie laughed. I spotted Sarah snapping pictures of the crowd. “I better get back before Sarah sees me talking to you guys.”
I waved at my parents on the top row and headed back toward the sidelines.
The second half of the game was like a replay of the first. Our offense was way better than Pine Ridge’s. We scored two more touchdowns and kept them from even getting near the end zone.
My favorite play was the one where DeMarcus would toss the ball to the fullback, Cody Ryans. He’d run one way like he was going to go right. But then hand it off to Bobby Fleagle, who’d take off in the opposite direction.
Classic fakeroo.
Before lunch on Friday, I texted Kassie an idea in the middle of math class.
Me: hey let’s see if mrs. kellerman will let us eat in the room.
Kassie: y? u need help with homework?
Me: no we can all eat together. im tired of sitting with sarah.
There was a pause. I
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