Eric popped a slice of avocado in his mouth. There was always avocado on the kitchen counter at siesta, and it wasn't something he'd ever expected to eat by the slice before. He'd never had it any way except in guacamole. But it was becoming a habit of his, to eat it like candy.

Grandpa Maddox was distributing the mail. "And Billy," he said, handing a letter to Eric's roommate.

Billy took the letter and looked at with a crinkled brow. "Ain't no one ever writes me," he said. "What is it? Junk mail?"

"Eric has a pen pal," Grandpa said, "and I think it's been good for him, so I singed you and a couple of the other guys up for one, too. Dante, here's yours."

Dante took the letter and looked it over with curiosity.

Billy snorted. "Pen pal? What are we? In third grade?"

"Shut up," Dante muttered. "It's something to do. Just be grateful."

"There were several students at Bowie High who needed someone to write for a school project," Grandpa said. "I told my son-in-law Deacon he could give them some of your names. So now there are four of you will be getting letters. Javier, here's yours. This will be a good way to practice your written English."

The lean, dark skinned boy, who had been born in the U.S. but spent his life in and out of Mexico, grabbed the letter and also the plate of avocados before disappearing toward the living room.

"Pen pal," Billy said again with a snicker, but he tore open his letter awfully fast as he left the kitchen.

Grandpa Maddox handed Eric an envelope. He recognized the script immediately as being Tami's hand. He retreated to his mesquite tree, where he sat down on the cold, hard earth and snapped up his jean jacket. It had actually dropped down to 40 today, and his hands felt a little chilly as he read the letter.

January 28, 1983

Dear Eric,

I meant my aunt's beautiful and curvy like Marilyn Monroe and men fall all over themselves around her. Including your dad, by the way. SHE was the one who told him she just wanted to be friends, not him, at least according to her. He wanted to keep dating her.

Eric felt angry at his father for wanting to date this woman, but then that anger gave way to slight amusement because his father had been shot down. Coach Taylor was a pretty confident man on the football field and in his marriage to Eric's mom. It would have been funny to see him humbled like that. He must have been really embarrassed given that he'd lied to cover it up. Eric's amusement shifted next to sympathy. He wouldn't want to be shot down like that himself. But then he thought about the fact that his father had lied, and his feelings returned to anger again.

Wanting to get off this roller-coaster ride of emotions, he shook the letter and shook his head, as if that could shake off all the feelings. Then he went back to reading:

Glad to hear you're getting along better with your dad. My aunt said she gave him some advice on how to talk to you on the phone, so I guess it worked?

Eric didn't know what Tami meant. His father hadn't talked to him in any particular way. He'd just...well, they'd talked a lot about Eric's mom the last two times he called. His dad shared a lot of funny stories with him, things he'd never known about Mom. And Eric had shared some stories back - things he and his mother had done together when his father was at away games or out of town or otherwise busy. They hadn't argued. They hadn't talked about Eric's past indiscretions or even how or what he was doing on the ranch. They'd just talked about mom.

She's a pretty good counselor, but I wouldn't want to be a counselor. That just doesn't seem fun, dealing with messed up people and their messed up problems all day long. I think I want to be an actress, but, if I don't make it at that - maybe a school principal. They seem to make good money and get to boss everyone around, and when I'm principal, there will be NO 7-period day. 7th period will be party period for everyone.

My electives next year? I guess it'll depend where I end up going to school and what they offer. There's a chance I may go back to live with my mom after this semester is over if I've pulled up my grades and got my "head back on right." I'm not sure I even want to move back, except that I miss my little sister Shelley and she really misses me. I won't have to go back to my old school, at least, because my Mom is moving someplace cheaper, some small town called Dillon. I don't want to move to yet another new place, but it's probably better than going back to my old school. I really embarrassed myself there. I don't want to face those people again.

I guess if you come back to Euless in August and I move back in with my mom in July, we may never meet in person. Maybe that's a good thing, given everything I've been telling you. But you'll meet my aunt. She bought the house here and has a job and likes it and everything, so she's staying. Wherever I end up, I'm trying out for the volleyball team next fall. I used to play in junior high and I was pretty good, but after my dad took off, I just quit. I don't know why. I was pretty depressed I guess. But my aunt is encouraging me to get back into it.

You know, if you sow your wild oats until you're thirty, all of the good women are going to be taken by the time you decide to get married. You're going to be scraping the bottom of the barrel. But I guess if you're in the NFL you can take your pick. Do you really think you have a chance of making it? No offense, but, like 1% of high school players get there, right? Why do you want to be a sportscaster? When your dad was over for dinner yesterday he told my aunt you're not much of a talker. Why not just be a coach like your own dad?

You're right. My dad is an asshole. I don't know why I sometimes blame my mom for pushing him away. I mean, why wouldn't she have pushed him away? He's the kind of asshole who doesn't even visit his kids once he's divorced. I bet she put up with more than I realized for longer than I realized just to keep our dad in our lives, on and off. Your dad doesn't seem anything like an asshole to me, though. He seems pretty nice. He fixes stuff around our house sometimes. For someone who's only interested in being friends, my aunt sure does check him out a lot when he's doing it.

~~ January 31, 1983 ~~

Oops, I got distracted by a phone call from Mo McArnold and then forgot to finish and send this letter. I'll put it in the mail tomorrow. By the way, I sniffed Mr. McMullen's cup like you said to. Oh my God! Is he just drunk the entire time he's teaching? Is that it? Why doesn't the administration do something about it?

Thanks for the heads up on Shane. Kimberly already lost interest in him before I got your letter, though. They actually went out once already. He expected sex on the first date. She said NO to the sex, and he got all whiny, so she said no to ever going out with him again. Bullet dodged. I like Kimmy. She knows who she is and she doesn't need to impress anyone. I wish I was more like that a year ago. If I was, I might not have done some things I wish I hadn't done. I think I'm becoming more like that this year, though.

So…What about Mo? What do you think of him? He's taking me to the dance this Saturday. I said yes.

To answer your questions -

My favorite movie at the moment is Grease. By the way, I went and looked at your team photo in the trophy case in the main hall and you look nothing like Robert Redford. You look more like John Travolta in Grease.

Eric smiled faintly. That must mean she thought he was pretty good-looking. Unless she didn't like John Travolta in Grease. But if it was her favorite movie, she probably did. Besides, most girls thought he was good-looking, especially when he was playing ball. His mother had always told him never to let that go to his head, that it was no challenge to get a girl - that the real challenge was keeping her. "Your dad's managed to keep me nineteen years," she'd said at the time. "Now that's an accomplishment." But now his dad was moving on, apparently, or at least he wanted to, even though he wasn't getting any traction. He wondered if his dad would start dating someone else now, maybe one of the teachers at the school, maybe one of Eric's teachers for next year. How weird would that be? He tried not to think about that and read on:

My favorite singer is Tammy Wynette. My mom named me after her but changed the y to an i to be different I guess. She had her first number one hit the year I was born. Do you like country music at all? It sounds like you mostly listen to rock.

I moved from Houston, but we used to live in Corpus before that. I guess I live in Dillon next, if I don't stay here in Euless. I don't really want to live in a small town where no one cares about anything but football. No offense. I know you're totally into it, and it's okay, but it's not the end all be all.

Eric raised an eyebrow. Football might not be the end-all-be-all, but it was sure a heck of a lot better than "okay."

I don't know how to describe what I look like, so maybe I'll just send you a photo the next time I write.

Do you have a hot date planned for Valentine's Day? If this dance thing goes well, I guess I'm going out with Mo for the Hallmark Heart Holiday too.

Sincerely,

Tami

Eric folded the letter three times and shoved it into the pocket of his jean jacket. He stood because Billy was making his way to the tree. "Siesta's 'bout over, man. Help me repair that fence?"

Eric nodded and followed him across the ranch. Billy ended up doing most of the work, while Eric just held things for the guy and handed them over when asked, or added his muscle to the lifting or propping. Billy was very handy with tools. "You should become a maintenance guy," Eric told him. "Handyman or something."

"Might could," Billy said. "It don't take a high school degree." He slid a post in place. "Hey, yer pen pal send ya a photo?"

"Not yet."

"Mine did. She's ain't much to look at."

"Well, maybe don't mention that in your reply," Eric said. "And you're no Prince Charming either." Billy was a bit gangly and his teeth were somewhat stained, probably from cigarettes or chew. His sandy brown hair was always unkempt, and he was missing part of that one toe.

"Ya think Warren assigned us all ugly girls on purpose?" Billy asked.

"I don't think my pen pal's ugly," Eric replied. "She got asked out by the new quarterback. She's probably decent looking. I mean, Mo's a little goofy and annoying." McArnold was a bit on the thin side for a quarterback, not nearly as well built as most of the players. "He's probably not going to get A-list girls. But he is a quarterback, so he's at least going to get B-list."

"Oh." Billy grinned. "No wonder you've been writin' her back. B-list don't sound bad."

"That's not why," Eric said. "Not to brag, but I'm pretty sure I can date A-list when I go back to Euless." He helped Billy by holding a post while he nailed it in place. "I just...I don't know. I like writing her."

"What makes ya think any of 'em girls is even gonna 'member ya when ya get back? Sounds like this Mo McArnold guy might of filled yer shoes already."

"I'll be back on the team. My dad's the coach. McArnold's going back to the bench."

"If'n ya say so." Billy put a nail between his teeth to hold it and gestured for Eric to help pick up another post.

Billy didn't say much else while they finished repairing the fence, and Eric found his mind wandering. What if he did return to school a nobody? It wasn't as if his old friends were checking in on him down on this ranch. It was like he didn't exist for them. Tami was the only person other than his father he was communicating with back home, and he'd never met her, and she might not be there when he moved back.

It occurred to Eric that although he'd hung out and partied with the guys on the team quite a bit, he'd never really made a best friend, or even a close friend. The last time he could remember having a best friend was in 7th grade, but that kid had moved away to California. They'd written for awhile, and then the letters had just tapered off. It wasn't clear who stopped writing first, but they both knew they were never going to see each other again.

He'd never really talked to the guys on his team about anything other than football. He sure hadn't talked to any of them about his mom dying. He'd probably said more to Billy and Dante about that already, in just his few weeks here, than he'd ever said to the teammates he'd known for two years. He was beginning to find an unexpected acceptance among these strange new friends on the ranch, but he didn't quite know where his place was in that old world he'd left behind. What would he be going back to, exactly?

"Watch yer thumb, brother," Billy said. "Don't want ya losing a toe like me."

Eric shook off the unwelcome thoughts and put his mind into the work.