Page 92 of On His Mind

In the middle of listening to All Too Well by Taylor Swift, the knob on his door twists. I almost jump out of my skin, but thankfully it’s locked.

“Are you serious, Mon Petit Percy?”

I look at Percy and smile.

“Taylor Swift? You’re never living this down, Deveroux.”

He rubs his forehead.

I hear Stanley’s mouth hover through the crack of the door. He sings with the chorus, “I remember it all too well.” He cackles at himself, and I cover my mouth. Stanley shouts, “I knew you were a big sap! Stop doing homework with your locked door like a freak. We’re watching the game downstairs, and you could take some notes.”

Percy doesn’t respond. The song fills the awkward tension.

Stanley laughs, slapping the door. I jump at the sound as he bangs it again. “Mon Petit Percy, you are something else, man.”

I hear his footsteps down the hall and then down the stairs.

Percy and I lock eyes. “Sorry.”

His face slowly pulls into a grin. My heart thumps as I watch it meet his eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile, and if I have, I haven’t like this.

I smile back at him.

Chapter 29

Percy

Ileaveherinmy room and go down to watch the hockey game. I don’t look at the whiteboard because it’s been watching me all day. I’ve walked past it a hundred times and never once needed to read it. I’ve got the rules memorized anyway.

They’re all in the living room with the game up. Benson’s got the remote and won’t give it up. Rowan’s on the floor with his back against the couch. Blue’s in the corner of it with his hood up. Stanley’s sideways across the whole loveseat, phone in one hand, eyes on the screen.

“Sit down, you’re blocking it,” Benson says without looking.

I sit down and watch the screen.

This is a perfect Sunday in normal terms — the five of us, a game, and nowhere to be. Rowan reaches up to steal the remote, Benson holds it out of range, and Stanley narrates a save like he’scalling it for television. I’ve sat in this exact position a hundred Sundays but today my mind keeps floating upstairs.

“He telegraphs everything,” I say when the other goalie bites on a fake. “Watch his glove. He drops it before the shot.”

Benson looks over at me. “Since when do you talk during footage?”

“He’s right, though,” Rowan says.

“I know he’s right. I’m asking why he’s talking.”

Blue’s looking at me from under the hood. He doesn’t say anything. He just looks, a second longer than nothing, and then back at the screen.

“Leave him alone. He’s got opinions now,” Stanley says. “That’s growth. I’m proud.”

I watch the goalie for a while and think.

“Stanley,” I say after a while.

“He speaks,” Stanley says, watching the screen.

“How does a goalie go pro?”

Stanley turns his head. He looks at me for a second like he’s checking whether I’m serious, and then he sets the phone down on his stomach.