Page 171 of ClickBack

“I haven’t seen the terms yet.”

On our way out, I stop at a championship photograph. Edwards, Hunt, Simmons, Howard. I have spent the afternoon hearing those names attached to men who interrupt one another and move chairs when Bellamy asks. Here they are in uniform, turned toward the same court.

Bellamy waits beside me.

“Jarrett said he liked the building,” I tell her.

“Cole did, too, when he first came. He still complained about where they put his locker.”

“Why?”

“Somebody talked too much.”

We look at the photograph again. Neither of us needs to ask who.

At La Cantera, Bellamy returns the little dress and matching bloomers without the argument she prepared in the car. The woman at the register apologizes, refunds it, and wishes her a good afternoon. Bellamy looks almost disappointed.

“You can save the arrow,” I tell her.

“I have.”

She finds a sweater for herself in the next store. I find a red dress in the one after that.

It is deeper than bright red, with a simple front and a back cut low enough that I turn the hanger twice to make certain I understand it. I hold it against myself, check the price, and return it to the rack.

Bellamy is choosing earrings. She sees me come back to the dress a few minutes later.

“Try it on.”

“I don’t know where I’d wear it.”

“You can work that out after you know whether it fits.”

I lift it off the rack again. The color is good against my skin. The back is still low. I have bought more clothes this summer than I bought in the last few years, and somehow I can still make a reasonable argument against every piece I actually want.

“I don’t need it,” I say.

Bellamy looks down at the earrings in her hand. “Neither do I.”

“That isn’t helping.”

“I wasn’t trying to help.”

She chooses a pair, pays for them, and asks whether I am ready for ice cream. I put the dress back.

The shop pours cream onto a frozen metal surface, works in the flavors, and scrapes it into rolls. Bellamy orders strawberry cheesecake. I choose vanilla with caramel and pecans. She watches mine being made so closely that I offer to change her order before it is too late.

“No. I committed.”

Outside, she takes one look into my cup and says, “I should’ve gotten pecans.”

“You were warned.”

She takes one with her spoon. I move the cup to the other side of me, and she laughs.

We sit in the shade where we can watch people go by. Bellamy tells me about her daughter discovering that throwing something makes an adult pick it up. Cole thinks they should stop encouraging her. Cole also retrieves every object.

“He has a theory,” she says. “Then she looks at him.”