Page 176 of On His Mind

Stanley shouts, “Do you want to streak down Hawthorne?”

“Not this again,” Benson mumbles.

“I absolutely do not, Ermington,” Aspen shouts back.

I hear the girls giggling.

Stanley says to the house. “We’re doing it before we graduate. It’s tradition.”

Benson shakes his head.

Blue says, “It’s not tradition. Nobody has ever streaked Hawthorne.”

“That’s because everyone has the personality of a goddamn wall. We’re doing it. We’re also skinny dipping at Boyne.”

Benson shakes his head. “Nobody is getting naked, Stanley.”

Rowan says, “If you get a 4.0 like Percy, I’ll do it.”

Stanley looks around the room. “You know I’m not getting a 4.0.”

Rowan cackles. “Sucks to be a loser.”

I stand abruptly. “I’m going to study in my bedroom.”

Stanley puts his hands on my shoulders and forces me back into my chair. “You stay here. I’ll go.”

I watch him leave the kitchen. “Aspen. Baby girl. I need to get a 4.0.”

And shortly after, Aspen is screaming his name.

Blue and I glance at each other, and honestly, I don’t want to know why she’s shrieking like that, so I put my head back in my textbook.

About ten minutes later, Stanley walks back in with his phone and slams it on the table, catching all of our attention. Gianna follows in behind him.

“Fourteen,” he says. “We’re fourteen, Benson. You know what’s outside sixteen? Nothing. Death. The void. Teams that go home in March.”

“We’re fourteen because we split with Michigan State,” Benson says. He doesn’t look up from his laptop. “We win both this weekend and we’re not fourteen.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Stanley slaps the table. “Two games. Friday, Saturday. We take both and we jump. We climb. We look the committee dead in the eye in March and we say —”

“The committee doesn’t watch in December.”

“But they feel it, Benson. They feel the momentum in their bones.”

Benson finally looks at him. “That’s not how the ranking works.”

“It’s how destiny works.”

Rowan says from the counter while Gianna stands next to him, “So, what’re you saying?”

Stanley points the phone at Benson. “Captain. Back me up. This weekend matters.”

“All the games matter. This weekend matters,” Benson says, and now he’s serious in the captain voice. “Every game from now till March is one we don’t get back.” He looks around. “So yeah. We win both. Then we go on the trip. Then we come back in January, and we don’t stop.”

The room goes a little quiet, the way it does when Benson stops being funny.

“See,” Stanley says, softer now, “that’s the bones.”