Page 9 -

Lemon Drop Falls

The new coach held tryouts at the end of May, back when
all my family could do was cry.
I never even mentioned tryouts to Dad.
It’s better this way. It’s not like I have time for soccer
anymore.

“Hey.” We stare at each other across the green turf, like
some magical force field keeps us from walking together and
talking for real.

Keilani’s been my best friend since we started pre-K soccer.
Usually we spend all summer scrimmaging, playing cards, sing-
ing karaoke, or watching Star Wars with Hrishi—my next-door
neighbor, and the third point in our best-friend triangle.
But nothing about this summer has been normal.

Mom had secret blood clots in her lungs that no one could
see until she couldn’t breathe anymore. She died in May, right
before school got out.

Every day since, there’s been a sad, stressed-out, parentish
person where regular-old-kid Morgan used to be—After-Morgan.
It’s like I can’t remember how to be anyone else.
Compared to losing Mom, none of the small stuff that’s
wrong in my life now should matter. I shouldn’t still care what

happened with Keilani that night in June when she and Mackelle
brought brownies to my house.
Mackelle. Her name sounds like a fish. Like an exclamation

of a fish.
Holy Mackelle! Why did I ever listen to you about anything?

10