Page 252 of Across His Line

“Apparently so does your relationship.”

“Barnes,” Kennebeck says, not looking up from his food. “Shut up.”

Tessa passes the salt. She passes it all the way down the table, the long way, past Kylie and past Kennebeck, so that it takes about thirty seconds to get to him, and when it gets there, she says, “There you go, Barnes’s mouth,” and Kylie laughs so hard she has to put her forehead on the table.

I sit there and eat what’s left of my dinner and don’t say anything.

Monday morning after practice, Berwyn calls my name from the door of his office. He just says Waleska and goes back inside and leaves the door open, which means now.

I walk in, and he’s already sitting behind his desk. He doesn’t tell me to sit. I sit anyway.

“Three teams called for updated film,” he says. “Over break.”

He slides a piece of paper across the desk. Three names. I know all of them. I’ve had their logos on my wall in one house or another since I was eleven.

“They’ll be at games this spring,” he says. “More than before. You’ll see guys in the stands with notepads. Don’t look at them. Play.”

“Okay.”

“And your father called me.”

I stop.

Berwyn watches me stop. He leans back in his chair until it creaks. He looks at me for a long time with his hands folded on his stomach, the way he looks at a play he’s about to tell you was wrong.

“He wants to set up meetings,” he says. “He wants to know which teams called. He wants to know what they said, and who said it, and what I said back.” He tips his head. “He asked if I could send the film to him first. So he could look it over.”

I don’t say anything.

My hands are on my knees. I look at them.

“I told him no,” Berwyn says.

I look up.

“I told him I’d send it where you tell me to send it. And that I’d talk about it with you.” He shrugs. “He didn’t like that.”

“No,” I say. “He wouldn’t.”

Berwyn nods slowly.

“You’re nineteen,” he says. “In June, a lot of people are going to want to talk for you. Agents. Advisors. Your father. Guys you’ve never met with nice watches who say they’re your friend.” He sits forward. “I said this to you in November. I’m going to say it one more time and then I’m done. You need to decide how much of this you’re letting him handle. Because if you don’t decide, he will. And he’s going to do it whether you’re in the room or not.”

He picks up the paper with the three names on it and holds it out to me.

I take it.

I walk out of his office, down the hall, and out the side door into the parking lot. It’s cold, and the sky is white. I stand there with the piece of paper in one hand and my bag over my shoulder.

I take out my phone. I could open the map. I know she’s probably at the library. I could just go.

I don’t.

Me: You busy?

The dots come up almost right away.

Tessa: Not really. I’m just at the library. Why?