Left Out (11 page)

A woman with bleach-blond hair stood at the top of the hill. Her lips were pink and thick, reminding Landon of chewed bubble gum. Her eyes hid behind big dark sunglasses, and she was dressed like one of Genevieve's friends in a pale yellow dress dotted with little daisies, and sandals on her feet. When Xander reached her, she gave him a hug and pointed him to the car. Landon guessed she was his mom.

In one hand she held a large striped bag, like something for the beach. She was taking big blue envelopes the color of a robin's egg from the bag and handing them out to each player as he reached her. Landon slowed his pace even more to watch. Xander's mom's pink painted nails flashed along with a gleaming smile as she worked.

Landon moved close and focused hard to read her thick lips as Brett accepted one of the festive envelopes from her.

“We're doing laser tag for Xander's birthday, Saturday,” she said. “I hope you can make it, Brett. Everyone's invited.”

Landon gulped down his excitement. Laser tag was something he'd done with Scouts in Cleveland once. He was actually good at it because what you really had to do was
see
things well in the dark. The flit of a shadow here or there made all the difference, and it didn't take Landon long to learn that if you just hunkered down in a corner, you could pick people off with deadly certainty and dominate the game.

Landon picked up his pace a little because Timmy Nichols was getting his invitation and Landon didn't want Xander's mom to think Timmy was the last of the players. He took a quick glance over his shoulder and relaxed when he saw that Skip had stopped to help Mike and Coach Furster put the bags into the equipment shed. Landon was certain that Xander's mom would wait for Skip. Everyone wanted a piece of Skip.

Landon huffed and waddled and wished his padded pants weren't suddenly sagging and slowing him down. He reached back and tugged at the droopy girdle. As he crested the top of the hill, he seemed to make eye contact with Xander's mom. He couldn't be exactly sure because of her dark glasses. He was out of breath, but he wrestled his face into an enormous smile as she reached into her bag and pulled out another big, beautiful blue invitation. It was a prize worth having.

Landon was so close that Xander's mom had to be looking right at him. He grinned and he held out his hand. Then her smile suddenly dropped. She stepped aside and then actually walked down the hill to meet Skip and Mike halfway up.
Landon thought he could hear her chirping like a bird as she presented Skip his invitation.

Before Landon saw Skip take it, he turned toward his father's Prius. The heat squeezed him in its fist. Landon staggered a bit as he tried to hurry. When he reached the car he put his hand on the hot corner of the Prius's hood to keep himself from falling over. The metal burned his hand, but he couldn't think about that as he bent over and puked up the swamp water.

His father was suddenly there, tapping his shoulder and bending over in concern until his face filled the space outside Landon's puke-stained metal cage. “Hey, hey, big guy. You okay? I saw that running. Man, it's not easy being a football player, is it? And I used to gripe when I had to carry the
tuba
.”

Landon stood up and stared at his father. From the corner of his eye he saw that Brett had stopped to look at him with his blue envelope pinched between a thumb and forefinger, frowning like he knew Landon was a super powder puff.

“Landon? Are you okay?” His father tilted his head.

Landon only nodded and pulled away. “Yes. I'm fine. Let's go.”

“Can we stop for ice cream?” Landon wasn't hungry, but his father didn't know that.

“Hey, sure. Probably hungry after losing your dinner there, huh?” His father gave Landon a cheerful look and started the car. They rolled out of the parking lot. Landon kept his eyes straight ahead and bumped up the AC as high as it would go.

His father found a place to park on the street in the center of town. Landon put his helmet and shoulder pads in the backseat and wore just his sopping wet T-shirt and football pants into the Häagen-Dazs store, where they sat at the corner table. Landon's dad accepted two menus from a waitress and watched her walk away before he spoke. “Amazing, right? I mean, look at all this. When I was a kid a banana split was a big deal, but now you got, what?” His father began to read off the menu. “Paradise with Whipped Cream? Waffle Dream? The Eiffel
Tower? Wow, Landon, you have no idea how lucky you are.”

His father dipped his head into the menu, shaking his head with wonder. When the waitress returned, Landon asked for a glass of water and said he still hadn't made up his mind about his order.

“So, what's Genevieve doing tonight?” he asked when they were alone.

His father lowered the menu and raised an eyebrow. “No idea. On her computer? Texting? I was in a real writing zone and all of a sudden I saw the time. Didn't want to be late picking you up. Why?”

“No reason.” Landon dipped his head. “How about this Banana Caramel Crepe?”

“Oh, didn't see that.” His father got back to business.

The waitress returned with their water and Landon asked for the Seventh Heaven. His father went for the Banana Caramel Crepe. They sipped their water and watched people walk past on the sidewalk, some of them entering Häagen-Dazs to sit down, others lining up for cones at the counter. His father tapped Landon's hand, and Landon looked up.

“I gotta tell you, Landon, this book is really going good,” his father said. “Nodnal is some character.”

“Wait,” Landon said. “I thought you weren't going to name him Nodnal.”

“Well, right. It's a working name. I'll change it at the end, but for now it's really helping me. I see him as Nodnal.”

Landon saw the glow of excitement on his father's face and couldn't bring himself to protest, even though he hated the idea.

“I mean, right now.” His father leaned toward Landon and motioned with his hands. “He's in the dungeon. He was wrongly accused of conspiring against the king, but he's made a friend, a knight. I'm about to have them escape.”

Landon tried his best to look interested, but his own life was such a mess, he just couldn't find room to care about a fictional character.

“Sounds good,” he managed to say.

His father sat back, then glanced around at the other tables, but Landon could tell he was trying to decide whether or not to ask him something.

“So, football going good?” Landon's dad folded his arms on the table and leaned in again. “I mean, you like all that hitting and stuff?”

Landon shrugged. “It's not easy.”

His father shook his head vigorously. “No way. It's pretty crazy if you ask me, and I don't want you to feel like you have to keep doing it if it's not for you, Landon.”

Landon scowled. “Why? Did Genevieve say something to you?”

“Not at all,” his father said.

“'Cause I'm not her, you know. Things come easy to her.”

“Sometimes it seems that way,” his father said, “but she works pretty hard, I gotta say.”

The ice cream arrived. Landon dug in, truly hungry because his stomach was completely empty, and facing Genevieve now seemed far off. If she was busy on the computer or texting with her friends, he could sneak right into his bedroom and lock the door. He took a big bite, and mango exploded in his mouth.
He cut that flavor with a dash of raspberry and whipped cream.

“Mmm.” He got serious about his dish and didn't look up until he paused before the final scoop.

“You beat me,” he said to his dad.

His father scraped some melted goo from the bottom of his dish. “Well, it's not a contest, but wow, was that crepe good. I'm glad we stopped here.”

Landon noticed a splotch of caramel on his father's shirt, and that made him think of his mom and what she'd say if she were here. “Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“If I don't get a lot of playing time—in the games—you won't care, right?”

His father's mouth turned down. “Nah. Who cares about that? It's your first time ever trying this thing. Everyone else's been doing it forever, and what's the rush? I told you, it's about being a part of something. That's what a team is. Gosh, my high school buddy Dale Higgens had no rhythm whatsoever, but there he was with that triangle—sometimes the bongos—right there, marching along with the rest of us with his chin high, all the way to Orlando one year for the Nationals. Did I ever tell you we went to the Nationals one year?”

Landon nodded. “Pretty sure you did.”

“Yeah, well, we were a
band
, which is the exact same thing as a team. Like a band of brothers. A unit. A squad. Man, did we have some times. Band camp?” His father raised an eyebrow again, twirled his spoon and sighed happily before he let it drop into the bowl. “You ready?”

“Almost.” Landon ate his last spoonful, and then he asked
the question that had been on his mind all along. “So, with the band, did anyone ever have some get-together, like a party, and not invite the whole band? I mean, that had to be normal because of how many people you have in a band.”

His dad reached across the table and put his hand on Landon's. “Hey, buddy, we got plenty of room. I can fire up the grill. Burgers. Chicken kabobs. We can fit that whole doggone football team of yours right around the pool if that's what you're wondering. I like the idea. Mom won't mind.”

Landon fought to control himself.

He had no idea what to say.

Landon sputtered. “No, that's okay. I was just thinking about how big a group you have with a band. I was just wondering.”

“Well, yeah. I mean if you're in the band, you're in the band. Everyone just knew everyone was invited. That's what I'm talking about. That's how things work, see?” His father sat up, straight and wise. “A Cub Scout den is a different bird. I think because of all the focus on the individual skills and merit badges and stuff. I think all you did with your den was that laser tag once. Scouts isn't as much about camaraderie as a team or a band is. You sure you don't want to ask the guys over? Even after practice one night? Everybody for a dip?”

Landon shook his head and wiped his mouth. “I don't think so. Maybe some other time.”

His father's hands went up in surrender. They paid the bill and headed home.

The sun was well down, and Landon's dad put the headlights on. They were nearly at the turnoff when they saw a small figure marching down the sidewalk, arms and legs flying high.

“Well, how about this for timing?” His father nodded at the furious display of limbs, and as he pulled over, Landon saw that it was his mom. She insisted on walking to and from the train each day, even with her crazy hours, because she said it not only lowered the carbon footprint of their family but also gave her a bit of exercise and the chance to wind down.

His father rolled down Landon's window. “Hey there, pretty woman. Going my way?”

Landon rolled his eyes, but looked to see how his mom would respond. She shifted her briefcase's strap on her shoulder and put her hands on her hips, smiling. “Forrest, what are you teaching our son?”

“That pretty women are hard to find and if you do find one, you pick her up! That's a lesson worth learning, I'd say.”

“Oh, you would?” she teased.

“Definitely.”

Landon's mom climbed into the backseat beside the football gear and then tapped Landon on the shoulder. “And my lesson is that being bold is the only way to win the prize.”

Landon's dad tapped his arm. “And what a prize I am.”

They went straight home, happy, without speaking. Landon digested the words his parents had spoken, sifting the lessons from the laughs. He knew Megan Nickell would be like that, joking around and happy and appreciative. He could just tell, but thinking of her made him think of Genevieve and the
blowout he knew they were going to have as soon as she caught wind of him bailing out of the contact drills in exchange for carrying the water bottles.

He realized his mom was tapping his shoulder, and as they pulled into their driveway, he turned around.

“I said, how is football going?” His mom's sharp look seemed to see right into his head, like his eyes were windows without curtains.

Landon nodded. “Fine. Good.”

“Isn't that great to hear?” She patted his shoulder, and they all got out. Landon heard his parents talking but didn't bother to pay attention. He got his football gear from the backseat and laid it out to dry in the garage before following them into the house. He dumped his cleats in the mud room before entering the kitchen.

“Well, we just had some pretty serious ice cream at that Häagen-Dazs store,” his father said to his mom, “but I can cook something up for you if you're hungry. I made lobster ravioli. Sound good? Or, I could whip up an omelet, a little sage and white cheddar?”

Landon's mom sat on a bar stool at the granite-topped island in the middle of the kitchen. She wore a tired look. Her shoes were off and her feet were already up on the next stool. “Just some salad if you have it, Forrest.”

“I always have salad,” Landon's father said. He looked at Landon and winked. “I was a rabbit in another life. I ever tell you that?”

Landon gave his father the grin he was waiting for and then said, “I'm gonna shower.”

On his way up the stairs Landon considered his mom. He couldn't remember a time when she'd been gone more or seemed so tired, and he began to wonder if she or his dad regretted coming to Bronxville. It certainly wasn't treating Landon very nicely so far. Before he crossed in front of the open hallway that led to Genevieve's room, he stopped and peeked around the corner and strained for a hint of noise. He heard nothing and tiptoed across, making it safely to his own room, where he put his ears in their drier and took a nice cool shower.

When he got out, he wrapped a towel around his waist, walked into his bedroom, and yelped with fright.