“So how are things at home?” he asked, jogging backward to see her face.
“Fine, I guess. Mom’s been sick.”
“Is she okay?”
“I guess so.”
Connor turned back around and didn’t ask any more. If there was something to be worried about, Colleen would ferret out the news and tell him. The most he’d said to Gail these past ten years were essentially, “Hi, how are you?” and “I’ll bring her back by nine.”
But Savannah was a good kid. His father and Gail were doing something right. Certainly, Pete was better at the second round of family life than the first, which saved Connor the trouble of beating him up.
“Connor, do you have a girlfriend?” his sister asked as they rounded the last corner of the block.
He glanced down at her strawberry-blond head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, God. I thought you were the nice sister.”
She giggled at that, her face flushed but not too red. “Is there someone you like?”
“No. I don’t like anyone. Especially little sisters who interrogate me.” Another giggle. “Is there someone you like?”
She stopped running as they came back onto the field. “Yes.”
Well, shit. “You’re ten. I forbid you to like anyone.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” she said. “It’s an older man.”
Connor was suddenly drenched in a cold sweat that had nothing to do with running. And I will kill that older man. “Who, honey?”
“He’s in seventh grade. Sawyer Bickman.”
So that made him fourteen to Savvie’s ten. Predator material. Clearly, this Sawyer person needed to have a six-foot-two adult scare the living shit out of him.
“He told me I made a fantastic play last week,” Savannah said, looking down. Connor didn’t miss her smile. “The big kids came to our game.”
“Is that it?”
“I thought it was pretty great, Connor.” She cut him a mildly hurt look.
“I mean, that was all he said? Did he...do anything?”
“Ew, Connor. Yes, that was all he said.”
“And have you talked since?”
“No.” She flopped down on the grass and stared at the sky, which was a perfect, clear blue today. “He probably has a girlfriend.”
“Honey, you’re—”
“Don’t tell me I’m only ten years old. I know how old I am. And my mom has already told me, in case I forgot.”
Connor lay down next to her.
He’d been twelve the first time he’d fallen for Jess. The only time, really, since it never went away. “So you like him.”
“I think it’s more than that.”
Savannah had an old soul that didn’t match her slight (and adorable) lisp. “Young love can really pack a punch,” he said.
“You’re telling me.” She was quiet for a minute. “He’s really nice to people. Not just me, but everyone.”
Connor nodded. “That’s a good sign.”
She turned to face him, her little round face earnest. “Should I do anything? Write him a note or something?”“Maybe you should ask Colleen. She’s pretty good at this stuff.”
“But you’re a boy. What would you think if you got a note from a girl who liked you?”
Crap. “Uh...well, what would this note say?”
She sat up straight. “‘Dear Sawyer, when you told me I did a good job tagging out Aidan Priestley, it was the greatest moment of my life. My chest was burning and I was so, so happy, it felt like birds were flying inside me. I think about you all the time. I know I am only ten, but if you wait for me, I will love you forever. Respectfully, Savannah Joy O’Rourke.’”
Quite the recitation. And respectfully? Connor ran a hand over his jaw, hiding his smile.
“That’s...uh, very poetic. I liked the part about the birds flying. But here’s the thing, Savvie. If he’s fourteen, it’s a pretty big age gap. But when he’s... I don’t know—forty, it won’t be.” Yes. Forty. He could see his little sister dating when she was thirty-six. That felt about right.
“Forty?”
He gave a conciliatory shrug. “Or maybe even sooner than that. But right now, I think the best-case scenario is that he’d be really flattered that you liked him, and he’d admire the guts it took to send the note.”
“Great!”
“On the other hand, though, if he did have a girlfriend, or if, say, the girl who was writing was a little young, he might feel...uncomfortable. He might worry if it was appropriate, if she was only ten. He might think, ‘Doesn’t that girl have a big brother who’s really scary?’”
“You’re not scary, Connor.” She smiled at him. She’d lost another tooth, he noted.
“Everyone knows I’m extremely scary. But do you know what I mean? You might put this nice guy in a tough spot. He might want to be friends with you, but if it’s romantic, he can’t be.”
Savannah pondered, then sighed. “This is probably good advice.”
“Well, sure. I’m your big brother. I’d just keep playing good baseball, maybe focus on that. Keep it at a level where you guys could talk about sports without anything being misinterpreted.”
She nodded. “Got it. Keep him in the friend zone.”
“How do you know that phrase?”
“Everyone knows that phrase. Wanna throw some more? Or are you too weak and exhausted?”
He stood up and grabbed her as a response, tossed her over his shoulder like she was a sack of rice and ran around the bases, her happy shrieks filling the air.
* * *
WHEN HE TOOK Savannah back home that day, he waited as he usually did until she was inside the house. Usually, she’d just open the door, turn and wave, then run inside.
Today, however, the door was locked. She rang the bell, then stood there a minute. When no one came to answer the door, he joined her on the porch.
His father’s house was, unsurprisingly, huge, showy and soulless. It was the last house in the cul-de-sac, the biggest house in the development, which was cloyingly called Whisper Winds Way. He’d been inside for Savannah’s birthday parties, and it was the same on the inside as it was on the outside.
“My mom said she’d be home,” Savannah said.
Connor knocked. Loudly.
No one answered.
Savvie had said Gail had been sick.
“Well, come back to the restaurant with me,” Connor said. “I’ll put you to work, how’s that?” He’d have to call his father.
Just then the door opened, and there was Gail. “Hi, baby girl!” she said. “Did you have fun?”
She looked awful. White-faced, her hair dull and disheveled.
“You okay, Gail?” he asked.
“Yeah. Just a little under the weather.”
“I’m starving,” Savannah said. “Bye, Con! See you later!” She darted inside the house.
Gail shaded her eyes and looked at him. “How was she?”
“Great.”
She really looked like hell. Usually, she wore tight, tight clothes, low cut on top, high cut on the bottom, not a fan of the less is more philosophy. Today, she was wearing yoga pants and a sweatshirt. Connor was actually surprised she owned a sweatshirt.