“Okay,” Ms. Bonner says, going to a closet at the back of the room, “Now that we al have partners, al husbands should come pick up their projects.”
Pick up our project? Shrugging, I stand up and stretch my arms. Henry also stands. “No way, dude,” I say. “I’m the man in this relationship.”
“Oh yeah, absolutely,” he says, grinning. He sits back down as I walk to the closet to see this project, which turns out to be one of those fake electronic babies. Oh good God. Ms. Bonner hands me a fake baby boy. The dol has these creepy glass eyes that look like they’re staring straight into my soul. I hold the dol out in front of me like it’s a flaming bag of poo and carry it back to Henry.
“Congratulations, Mommy,” I say, dropping the dol into his hands. “You could’ve told me I knocked you up.”
“My bad. I thought you’d force me to get an abortion,” Henry replies, taking the baby and cradling it as if it’s real. “He has your eyes, Woods.”
“And your hair.” The dol is bald. “Can we name him Joe Montana?”
“Hel s no, his name is Jerry Rice.”
“No, his name is Joe Montana.”
“I was in labor with him for fourteen hours!” Henry exclaims as he rocks the baby back and forth. “His name is Jerry Rice.”
I grin. “Fine.”
Then the teacher gives us al this shit, like blankies and strol ers and toys and other things that babies need. First, Ms. Bonner says we have to carry this crap around al week! But then she explains the real assignment. Apparently these babies have computer chips that make them cry at random times, and it’s up to us to feed them and change their diapers. Feeding them involves putting a metal rod in their fake mouths, which shuts off the crying. If we take out the metal rod before the fake baby is done eating, it wil start crying again. We have to keep our babies happy and alive until Friday—for five entire days! So even if the baby cries in the middle of the night, we have to get up and feed the baby or change it. And cheating isn’t an option, because the memory chip inside the baby takes readings that the teacher wil check at the end of the week.
This assignment is so stupid. Like I’m ever going to have children. Like I’m ever going to get laid. I bet I could get my chiropractor to write a note saying the electronic pulses from these babies have been known to cause cancer, which would eat away at my bones, which would make me useless on the footbal field. Wait…
“But Ms. Bonner,” I cal out, “What are Henry and I supposed to do during footbal practice?”
Henry puts a hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay, dear. That’s what grandparents and the junior varsity players are for.”
Ms. Bonner throws her hands up in the air. Lucky for her, the bel rings. Henry spends an inordinate amount of time getting Jerry Rice situated in our strol er. Then we leave the room, carrying our diaper bags down the hal toward the locker rooms. On the way, we run into Carter and JJ, who both just about die laughing.
“Shut up!” Henry says, “You’re going to wake up Jerry Rice.”
“Jerry Rice?” Carter says, covering his mouth with a hand. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Carter laugh so hard.
“Carter, would you like to be the godfather?” Henry asks. “You know, in case anything happens to me and Woods this week?”
“Charming,” Carter says. “I’d be honored. Does JJ get to be godmother?”
“Obviously,” I say.
“Can I hold Jerry Rice?” JJ asks. “He’s so cute.”
“No way, man,” I reply. “I don’t want to wake that thing up before practice. We’l be late if we have to feed it.”
“What does it eat?” Carter asks.
“I have to breast-feed, ’cause I’m the mom,” Henry says, continuing to push the strol er toward the locker room.
“Actual y,” I say, “It eats a metal rod, made out of, like, lead. So basical y, we’re learning how to poison babies.”
“Radical,” JJ says as we approach the gym, where we find Ty standing with Kristen, talking and leaning against the wal . When Ty sees me, he pushes away from the wal and comes over, leaving Kristen standing alone. What were they talking about? God, why didn’t I just kiss him yesterday? Then I wouldn’t have to worry about why he was talking to the floozy that is Kristen Markum.
“Yo, guys,” Ty says, peering down into the strol er. “What the hel is that thing? Satan’s spawn?”
“You’d better watch it!” Henry says. He puts on a serious face, throws an arm around my shoulders, and pul s me in close. “That’s our child you’re talking about.”
Ty smiles, then looks at Jerry Rice. “Its eyes are seriously creeping me out. And I knew something was going on between you two.”
“You’re right,” Henry says. “Woods is my husband, and I’m her wife.”
Carter and JJ start laughing again, and then walk off through the gym to the locker room, leaving just me, Ty, Henry, and Jerry Rice. Oh, and the awful Kristen Markum, who barely qualifies as a human being.
“Woods? Do you have a sec?” Ty asks.
“Sure.”
“Alone?” Ty eyes Henry and Jerry Rice, and I jerk my head at Henry.
“Fine,” Henry says, rol ing his eyes. “Divorce me if you must, Woods. I can’t believe I’ve only been married half an hour and I’m already a single parent.” Ty holds the door to the gym open so Henry can get the strol er through. I giggle at the sight of him carrying those diaper bags across the gym. Kristen is stil standing there glaring at me with crossed arms, looking mega-jealous.
“Kristen—I’l talk to you later,” Ty says, brushing his hair off his forehead. “Woods and I need to talk footbal .”
“Oh, okay,” she says, suddenly smiling and bobbing up and down on her toes. “Bye, Ty!” She gives him a hug and takes off down the hal way.
Trying not to barf, I ask, “What’s up?”
“I’m so sorry about yesterday…how I just slammed the door of your truck and al . And I didn’t even thank you for taking me to the game. It was one of the best days of my life.”
Stuffing my hands into the back pockets of my jeans, I nod a single nod. “No prob. Ready for practice?”
“Almost,” he says, putting a hand up to my shoulder, stopping me. Is he going to try to kiss me again? “Um, are you and Henry, um…you know.”
“Are we what?”
“You know, together?”
“Of course not. We’ve been best friends for, like, ten years.”
“Oh…got it. Sometimes it just seems like you’re more.”
“Would it be bad if Henry and I were more?”
He brushes his hair away again, then rubs his neck. Motioning for me to fol ow him into the gym, he takes off toward the left, toward the guys’
locker room, and I move right, toward the girls’. He cal s out, “Yeah, it would be very bad.”
•••
After throwing on al my pads, practice uniform, and cleats, I grab my helmet and jog out to the field, looking for Henry and our fake baby, Jerry Rice.
I spot Henry up in the stands, talking to Mom. He’s holding the fake baby out to her. She starts laughing and takes the dol from his hands and holds it by an arm. I see him waving his arms at her, as if he’s freaking out over how she’s holding the fake baby. He takes the baby back from her and then motions for her to make a cradle with her arms. She laughs again, then makes a fake cradle, and Henry sets the dol down in her arms. She shakes her head.
As idiotic as this assignment is, I can’t help but smile at their exchange. Henry is the funniest guy I know, the funniest person I’ve ever met. Only he would pretend to take this assignment so seriously. I jog up into the metal bleachers, taking two steps at a time until I reach Mom and Henry.
“Why, Jordan, you didn’t tel me I was going to be a grandmother,” Mom says, flashing a smile at Henry.
“I didn’t know either,” I say. “Henry hid the pregnancy from me. Do you mind watching that creepy thing during practice, Mom?”
Henry grabs his chest. “That creepy thing is our son, Woods.”
“I don’t mind,” Mom says. She nods at something over my shoulder. “Looks like Coach Mil er wants you two down there.”
“Thanks, Mom!” Henry says. It seems that Jerry Rice has put Henry back in a good mood again. He throws an arm around me as we walk back toward the field. “So, what did Ty want?”
“To thank me for taking him to the game yesterday.”
“That’s it?” he whispers.
“No…”
“I’m your wife, you can talk to me, Woods.”
“Yesterday, when I dropped him off at home, he, like, um, leaned in for a kiss?”
“And?”
“So, I, uh, told him I had to go.”
“You didn’t kiss?”
“Nope.”
Henry grabs my elbow, stopping us from going farther. “Why’d you do that? Don’t you like him?”
“Yeah…I was scared, I guess. I dunno.” I stare down at a piece of gum that’s melted onto the metal bleachers.
“De-nied,” Henry says. “God, I can’t even imagine leaning in for a kiss and getting rejected. Ty must feel like shit today.”
Shrugging, I grunt.
“So did he try to kiss you again just now? Or talk to you about the non-kiss?”
“No—he wanted to know if we’re together,” I say, laughing loudly and using my thumb to point from Henry back to me.
“You and me?”
“Yeah, he wanted to know if you and I are dating. I told him we’re best friends.”
“Yeah, he definitely wants you.”
I glance at Henry sideways. His face is blank, like no smile or anything. “You think?” I whisper.
“I know.”
Henry looks from my face back to the field, and his eyes pop open wide. I turn to see why he’s gaping: JJ and Carter are messing around, trying to shove a scrawny wide receiver into Jerry Rice’s strol er.
“JJ!” Henry yel s, “You can’t fit a freshman in that strol er.”
•••
Later that night, after a couple hours at the batting cages with Carter and JJ, Henry and I are in my basement having a mad foosbal tournament. It’s best three out of five games. I’ve won two; he’s won one. In the current game, game four, I’m kicking his ass. Jerry Rice, with his creepy eyes wide open, is sleeping quietly in his strol er.
Monday
Night
Football
is blaring on the big-screen television in the corner. We’re watching the Jets/Dolphins game and rooting for the Dolphins, of course.
“Can I stay over tonight?” Henry asks. Light from the television bathes his blond curls, making them shimmer.
“Course.”
“I figure it’l be easier for us to take care of Jerry Rice that way,” he says. “We can alternate the middle of the night feedings.” He twirls the bar, hitting the tiny white bal into my goal.
“Why are you taking this so seriously? We could leave Jerry Rice in my truck overnight so we wouldn’t have to hear him cry.”
“I want a good grade.”
“You did total y botch that corn bread assignment.” I hit the bal toward Henry’s goal, and his little wooden goalie blocks it. “I can’t believe you got an F in corn bread.”
“Most people can make it through life without having to be good at making corn bread. Being a parent is different.”
“Yeah,” I say, knowing how much my dad can suck sometimes. Henry and I are both lucky to have such great moms. At least Henry’s dad isn’t an asshole—he’s just never home. Like my dad, Mr. Henry hasn’t been to one of our footbal games in forever.
I slam the bal into Henry’s goal, winning the game. I throw my hands above my head and strut around the room, victorious. Cupping my hands around my mouth, I make fake crowd noises. “And Woods wins it al !”
“Quiet! You’re going to wake the baby,” Henry says with a laugh. He flops down on one of the leather sofas and picks up his glass of lemonade. I pour myself another glass, then grab a few chocolate-chip cookies, sit down, and prop myself up against him. He wraps an arm around me, leans over, and grabs a cookie from my hand with his teeth.
“Thief!”
“Pig!”
•••
The middle of the night rol s around, and Jerry Rice is screaming. Henry’s bare feet are in my face, so I knock them out of the way as I sit up.
Jumping out of bed, I grab the stupid dol from its strol er and force the lead rod into its mouth. Then I plop back down on the bed. It turns out that you can’t just leave the key in its mouth. You have to, like, hold the fake baby at the same time or it wil keep crying.
I sit back against my headboard and hold the dol in my arms. If I didn’t have the fake baby right now, I’d total y be writing in my journal about Henry.
He’s fast asleep, curled up at the other end of my bed, looking peaceful. The expression on his face says he’s not real y sad, and he’s not overcompensating for his sadness by acting al crazy or sil y, he’s just…content. And that makes me glad, because more than anything else, I want him to be happy. Part of me doesn’t even want him to wake up, because I know he’l eventual y go back to being depressed about Carrie, or whatever the hel he’s depressed about. If only he’d talk to me…maybe I could help.
My head droops down, and I accidental y drop the metal rod and Jerry Rice starts crying again. Henry stirs. Sitting up, the bedcovers fal down to reveal the plastic footbal charm and his six-pack.
Is Ty’s body that perfect? I wonder how many times Kristen has already seen his abs…
“What’s up, Woods?” Henry says, rubbing his eyes with fists.
“I dropped the metal rod, that’s al .” I cradle the stupid dol again.
Henry crawls up and throws an arm around me, pul ing me in tight. Closing my eyes as I lean against his shoulder, it occurs to me that Henry is going to be a great dad one day. Not unsupportive like my dad or nonexistent like his.
Just a real y great dad.
the count? 12 days until alabama
It’s Thursday, and as is tradition, JJ and I are sitting at Joe’s Al -You-Can-Eat Pasta Shack. I’m playing the salt-and-pepper-shaker game and JJ is scribbling in his crossword-puzzle book.
“I can’t believe you’re already doing a photo shoot for Alabama,” JJ says. “Crazy.”
“I know, right?”
“I’m proud of you, Woods.”
“Thanks, man.”
JJ jots on the puzzle and asks, “Ready for the game?”
I shrug, yawning. “I’m tired from dealing with stupid Jerry Rice al week.”