Chapter Nine

Gracie takes her dad's hand and tugs as a small sea of people parts around them. "Come on, Dad! Let's go see the new exhibit. Ancient Egypt!"

"Don't you want to go in there?" he asks, pointing to the Sports Challenge exhibit. "It's just like a mini stadium. It's got astroturf and its own blimp and everything."

"Dad, I've been in a stadium before. Lots of times. I've never been to Ancient Egypt."

"Yeah, but it's all about the physics and physiology of sports. You like science."

"Not as much as I like Ancient Egypt. Come on!"

He lets himself be led by his daughter but looks wistfully back as he goes, half-making out a sign that says "Sideline Science: Football" and wondering what it entails. "I think they have some new exhibits in there too," he says.

"Dad!"

He nods his assent and works his way to the Ancient Egypt exhibition with her. This day is Gracie's. Besides, he can impart his love of football to Liam now. Judging from last year's game tapes, he's guessing he'll make Liam quarterback. They've tossed the ball around a bit. Liam's got a lot to learn about football in general, and he's little on the light side, but the kid is quick and can already aim better than anyone on that team. He's starting to gain, and when Eric puts him on a weight lifting regimen, the muscles will follow.

He's already been told that the try outs are something of a formality. No one who shows up gets turned away, and no one ever gets cut from the team except for reasons of character. When he was first told that, he balked. He thought it meant Franklin was one of those schools, you know, where everyone's a winner, so no one's prepared for real life. He started to protest but was quickly put straight. If they don't have at least eighteen people, they don't meet the requirements to play, and last year, the team only had twenty, and one kid ended up expelled two weeks into the season. Try outs will be for deciding positions, but not for deciding who gets on the team.

"I don't get it," he told one of his assistant coaches last night. "Why don't more kids try out? Sure, it's a small school, but there must be at least 100 boys, total, in grades nine through twelve."

"They're hesitant," Coach McKinney signed. "They're competing against larger schools, for the most part, with bigger kids, who can hear."

Eric turned his beer on the bar. "Has the administration ever considered requiring they try out? You know, as a P.E. requirement?"

Coach McKinney laughed and then said, "Oh, you're serious, aren't you?"

"They say they care about sports, that they want to use them to prepare these kids for the world. They put a lot of money into the football program." They're paying him, after all.

"Ah…" McKinnery said, wiping a spot on the dark cherry bar with his cocktail napkin. "That's what you think. They talk the talk, yes. But you've got to understand, most of our funding actually comes from one booster. He's our quarterback's dad."

Well, Eric thought, that explained one thing that had puzzled him on the game tapes last night. He didn't think #6 should be in that position. The guy was on the slow side. He was planning to put Liam there instead, or 14, depending on how the try-outs went. Liam could be QB2 at first. Of course, everyone was going to have to be prepared to play more than one position.

"Former NFL guy," McKinney continued. "His son will be graduating this year, and after that, he'll keep contributing for a while I'm sure, but…at a lower rate, and eventually, he'll phase it out. We'll have to drum up support. So unless you turn this team around, Eric…" He shrugged. "I honestly don't see us even having a football program in two to three years."

Eric's trying to forget that conversation now, to forget the immense pressure he's under and concentrate on his daughter, who begins half her sentences with "Did you know…" He tries his best not to seem distracted.

When they've gone through the entire institute, including, in the end, even the sports exhibit, they hit a nearby restaurant for an early dinner.

"I'm worried about going to Veritas," Gracie admits to him.

"I know. I'm worried about going to Franklin. Trust me, I know how you feel. New environment. Don't know what to expect."

Gracie squeezes her lemon into her water. "Mom's worried I don't have any friends. You are too, aren't you?"

"I know what it's like to be introverted."

"Yeah, but you have no idea what it's like to be shy, do you?"

"Not really." He's not sure Gracie's shy, exactly, so much as bored with most people, but he doesn't argue the point with her. Maybe she is shy. She does decline to make eye contact when she's talking to almost anyone but family, but that's usually because she's got her eyes glued to a book. "Listen, Gracie, no one expects you to be a social butterfly, not your mom, not me, not anyone. But…we just want you….to be able to…" He sighs. "We want you to be happy. No one expects you to become some sort of –"

"- Talk show host? Like Julie?"

"Exactly." Eric closes his menu and looks at his daughter. "You need to talk to people at your new school Gracie. You need to try. You don't have to be a social butterfly, but you need to talk to someone. Sometime. You can't…" He scratches the back of his neck. Can't what? Rely on him to keep her company forever? He can't say it that way.

"I talk to people. I talked to Liam last night."

Eric's hand falls to the table. "Yeah," he says. "Really?" If those two could manage to get a long, it would sure bring him a lot of peace. Not that they fight. They just ignore each other for the most part.

"Uh-huh."

"What did you talk about?"

"Ancient Egypt," she says, and then the waitress is at her side, and when the conversation picks up again, it's all about the preservation of mummies.