Apparently, there was a big surprise which involved Summer, Sheryl and I having to go to the football camp with Sky and Uncle Bill for two flipping weeks. Uncle Bill explained there was no other way because he had to go, and he couldn't leave us alone for that long.

Sheryl was ecstatic and her father told us that it was normal Sheryl behavior. She was a football fanatic.

Sky took the bus with the other players, but Uncle Bill drove the rest of us. Usually he took the bus, he said, but he didn't think we would appreciate having to sit in a moving vehicle with a bunch of guys. He obviously did not know Summer very well yet.

Summer and I shared a room again, on a different floor than the boys. She glanced out the window frequently, trying to catch glimpses of the sweaty guys in tight pants, whilst I lay sprawled out on my bed and counted ceiling tiles.

"I can't believe I'm heeeeere," I sang, rather melancholy-like.

"Augh!" Summer exclaimed. "Your voice is terrible. Have mercy on my ears."

"Bah, you've got two of them," I said dismissively and launched into a new, more cheerful ditty. "Kill me NOOWWWW…"

"Gladly," she giggled and threw socks at me.

"Ooh, scary socks!" I cackled. "Ooh! Noon! Lunch!"

She peered out the window. "Yep. They're going to the lunch hall. Let's go!" She pulled me out of the room by the arm.

A large group of perspiring and dirty young men filled the lunch hall, gorging on their food.

We spotted Uncle Bill and headed over to him. Sheryl was sitting beside him, talking heatedly to a man in a burgundy shirt.

"You're going to get pummeled if you don't tighten up your defense!" she cried.

"Should I give you my whistle and the game patterns?" he asked. "Do you want my job?"

"Don't make her that sort of offer, Herman," Uncle Bill laughed. "You'll be unemployed." He glanced up at Summer and I, noticing us finally. He grinned. "Girls! Sit down. This is Herman Boone, head coach."

"Nice to meet you," Coach Boone said, smiling and making eye contact with both of us as we sat down. He had a confident, strong feel to him, like he had worked hard to get to where he was.

"How's Sky doing?" Summer asked, opening up her butterscotch pudding.

Eagerly, I asked, "Has he keeled over yet?"

Coach Boone grinned, somewhat fondly. "That kid's got talent."

"What kid?" I asked.

"Your brother."

"Talent?" I eyed suspiciously. "You are confused, Sir."

"He takes to the field like he was born out there." He shook his head. "He could go far if he'd shape up that attitude of his."

Summer nodded thoughtfully, while I exclaimed, "Talent?"

She gave me an amused look. "It's doubtful, but possible."

"He even sucks at hopscotch," I muttered.

"This isn't hopscotch, it's football," Sheryl reminded me.

I spied my brother, sitting at a table with a bunch of other guys. He was looking through a straw into his carton of milk. The others watched him intensely. Suddenly, Sky stabbed his straw into the carton and withdrew it, displaying a grape dripping with milk, shishkabobbed on the end of the straw. He received applause.

I exchanged looks with Coach Boone, who had also been watching the amazing grape event.

"Hey, that definitely required talent," he said.

"Why was there a grape in his milk carton to begin with?" I demanded.

"I'm not really sure, Lyric."

Summer told us helpfully, "He likes soggy grapes." She raised her eyebrows at our appraising stares. "It's true. He told me himself."

I laughed. "He said, 'Summer, I like soggy grapes' out of the blue?"

"Yes."

"You're sure you want him on your team?" I asked Coach Boone.

"As long as he keeps his soggy grapes to himself."

Dreaming of my Mom, I felt her gentle hand touch my arm.

"Mama?" I whispered.

"No, Lyric," she replied softly.

The hand on my arm feeling too alive to belong to my dead mother, I gasped sharply and opened my eyes to a mostly dark room. The sun would be up soon, but the sky was still dark neon blue.

Uncle Bill stood over me. "Good morning."

"Merrrg…" I grumbled groggily.

"You have to get up. I need your help today."

"I think I made previous engagements," I muttered into my pillow.

"Your sister's not feeling well," he whispered, and I rolled my head over to look where she was sleeping soundly, dead to the world. "I would have asked her to start working today because she's the oldest, but she's been throwing up all night."

Covering my face with my arm, I smirked. "Lovely."

"I'll pay you five dollars a week to carry equipment and give out water and towels," he said.

Considering the offer, I rolled over on to my side and looked at him with bleary eyes. "Ten."

"Fine. Ten. But you have to split it with your sister when she feels well enough to start working."

"Summer will never feel well enough to work." I flopped off my bed and unlatched my suitcase to look for clothes. "She would break a nail and cry."

"Sounds like your mom at Summer's age."

The dream of her still lying dead in my mind, I felt a chill tighten on my arms. Summer definitely was the most like Mom.

"Where should I meet you after I get ready?" I asked. Maybe, I thought, it would do me some good to get out into the fresh air and meet some new people.

"I'll send Sky up to get you." He smiled. "Take your time getting ready, but not too much time."

It took me about ten minutes to change into shorts and a white T-shirt, brush my teeth, wash my face and pull my wild brown hair into a ponytail. I waited around for a while, trying to think of charming and witty things to say to these guys I had never met, but I hadn't really come up with anything that wouldn't make me sound like a moron.

There was pounding on my door. "Hey, Dinkus, are you ready to go? I'm gonna be late!"

"Quiet, Dillhole, Summer's sick!" I yelled back at my brother, and then pulled open the door.

He was in a white football jersey covered in grass stains, glaring at me impatiently. A tall blond boy stood next to him, smiling a curious grin.

I rolled my eyes at Sky and closed the door gently behind me. "Good MORNING."

"Good MORNING," he replied. Alan, this is my sister Lyric. She's a freak."

I looked up at Alan. He was cute in a goofy, endearing sort of way. He smiled back at me. "Hi Lyric. Your brother is also a freak, but we don't mind him that much."

"You can keep him," I offered pleadingly.

"We don't like him THAT much," he laughed.