Page 6 of Worth the Try
The house is quiet, but the smell of fresh coffee wafts from the kitchen. I make my way there and find Sharon, my neighbor and personal saint from heaven, waiting for me. “Figured you’d be here soon,” she says, pushing a freshly poured mug across the island to me.
“You’re a goddess among women,” I tell her, taking a grateful sip. “My coffee never tastes this good.”
She smiles, but it’s pinched. “I have news.”
My body stills, all my senses focused on the woman in front of me.
“Your mom called last night. Everything is fine,” she hurries to say, holding up a hand and meeting my eyes.
I exhale, shoulders drooping in relief. “Jesus, Sharon. Don’t do that to me.”
“She didn’t want to bother you while you were playing, and asked I deliver the news.”
Still feeling a little wobbly, I ask, “Which is what?”
She hesitates, then dives in. “That your dad needed emergency knee surgery because he fell off the ladder. And that it was his good knee, meaning they’re going to operate on the other knee in a month or so, once he’s mobile again.”
As she speaks, a sinking sensation takes over. I know where she’s going with this. My parents are proud people, never wanting to accept help if they can handle things on their own.But proud or not, Dad’s accident means there’s only so much they’re going to be able to handle this summer. An energetic five-year-old is not on the list.
With a final, sorrowful smile, Sharon says, “They can’t keep Rosalie this summer.”
Chapter 3
Elodie
Two Weeks Later
“COME ON,” KARI wheedles as she grabs my hand and tugs me across the parking lot toward the Atlanta Granite’s offices. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”
“I still don’t think this is a good idea.” Even still, I let her pull me out of the scorching mid-July heat and into the nearly Arctic-level air of the building.
“Rugby players arealwaysa good idea,” Kari shoots back. “Well. Most of the time.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You been keeping something from me?”
She waves me off with a flip of her black bob. “Just trust me.”
I’m still not sure. But my best friend has been awfully insistent that this is the way to go, so here we are. Despite how it makes my stomach hurt.
After Mr. Brown’s pronouncement that I wouldn’t have a place to live on the same day that I lost my job, I might have…well, I might not have lived up to my “nice” reputation for a few days. It was more like “unwashed” and “feral.” But I can’t stay angry or sad for long, so after a solid seventy-two hours, I was upright and focused once more.
I needed a plan.
Kari was more than happy to help, and that’s how I find myself being dragged into the Atlanta Granite’s corporate offices on a Saturday afternoon. Offices that are situated at the top of the stadium, where the team practices and plays. Like me, Kari landed what she thought was her dream job right out of college, but unlike me, she hopped around until she got the position here as the senior public relations specialist. Which is a fancy title but really just means she still has a boss. And that she still does a lot of grunt work, but she does it while kicking butt.
Plus, she has her own office. Which I, in my jobless state, am more than a little envious of.
But it’s fine. Remember? Everything isfine.
I shove down the rising anxiety. I can do this. I have a plan. It’s paper-thin, and I’m pretty sure I’ve thrown up almost every day at how ridiculous I feel about it, but it’s a plan.
Kari roots in her oversized tote for the swipe card she needs to get us to the top of the building, then lets out a whoop of triumph as she yanks it into the air. “Success!” she crows. As we exit a moment later, she turns to me with a mischievous grin. “You ready to watch some practice?”
I shrug. Even though Kari’s been here a couple of years now, I know only the barest facts about rugby. I know it’s kind of like soccer, and kind of like football, is super popular all over the world, and is starting to get popular here, too. Also that the guys wear shorts and no padding to speak of. After that? It’s all a bit of a mystery. “Is asking them to help me move after they’ve practiced all day really a good idea?”
“Trust me,” she says. “They’ll be more than happy to do it. Besides, we only need four of them, max. You don’t have much stuff. It’ll take one trip. We offer to pay in beer and pizza.”
“We’re not in college anymore,” I admonish. “Beer and pizza can’t really still be a form of payment.”
