The Shortest Way Home (49 page)

“God, I hate football,” Dana breathed.

Amy chuckled beside her. “New football moms are always so skittish.” Timmy was the youngest of Amy’s boys, and Amy enjoyed being the superior, experienced mother.

Dana attempted a grateful smile. Grady certainly would have been embarrassed, and in the end he hadn’t been terribly hurt. His spine was still intact, his teeth still fit snugly in their gums. And yet Amy’s self-satisfaction made Dana want to wring her neck—or, better yet, mention the girls’ night out her friend Polly was throwing, knowing that Amy was not invited.

This uncharacteristic surge of vindictiveness surprised Dana. This was not her. She never purposely hurt people’s feelings. And it was the very thing she’d drilled into her children since the formation of their first friendships: Do not discuss invitations. Do not mention that Cassandra is having you over after preschool today and you might finger-paint with chocolate pudding if her mother remembered to buy some. Do not announce that you’re going to Owen’s birthday party at Laser Tag Rumble and you thought all the boys were asked. Don’t even squeeze your host’s hand behind the monkey bars at recess and whisper, “I can’t wait!”

Practice was over, and Grady walked toward her—was that a limp?—grabbed her thumb, and began towing her toward the car. “Are you okay?” she asked him. “That was a heck of a pileup.”

“Yeah,” said Grady. “Can Travis come over tomorrow?”

“Sure, I’ll call his mom when we get home.”

“TRAVIS!” bellowed Grady across the parking lot. “WANNA—”

Dana clamped her hand over Grady’s mouth, a lightning strike of parental correction. “What have I
told
you about that?” she murmured at him tightly.

“No one cares, Mom,” he insisted, squirming away from her.

Everyone cares,
she thought.
Even if they don’t want to go, everyone wants to be asked.