“Last week they managed to on Thursday night, so it’s possible. But I wouldn’t bet on it.”
William gestured toward the field. “It’s crazy how much Reese has improved in the past few weeks.”
Curt watched Reese in goal, a somewhat new position for her. In the past, she’d always preferred to play the position of striker, but after spending time with his sister’s stepdaughter, who loved to play goalie, she’d asked her coach if she could give it a try. Now, it was one of her favorite positions, and she seemed to get better at it every time he saw her play it.
“By the time the spring season starts, she’s going to be better than both Hannah and Cassidy,” William continued, referring to the two primary goalies on their other team.
Pride surged through him. “A lot of that is thanks to Coach Laurie. Reese told me that for the first thirty minutes of practice on Thursdays, Coach Laurie works with her and the other two goalies. She’s also been practicing at home whenever she can get someone to kick balls at her.”
“The RedHawks should do the same thing. I don’t think the goalies get any specific training.”
Out on the turf, the coach blew his whistle, ending the scrimmage on the field. Like most afternoons, the girls took their time getting to the sideline. From what he’d observed, every practice was about socializing as much as it was soccer. All the girls spent whatever time they could talking and joking around. He’d played enough team sports to know comradery amongst players helped make a better team, but some nights he just wanted to leave as soon as Coach Bruno ended the practice. And once Reese and Hazel started talking to their friends, some of whom they didn’t go to school with and only saw here, it was hard to get them out of the building.
“They ended on time twice in a row. Maybe Coach Bruno is turning over a new leaf,” William said as he stood. “If I don’t remind Malory we need to pick up her sister, she’ll sit over there all night. I’ll see you on Thursday.”
While Reese’s mouth looked to be going a mile a minute, she and Hazel both had their backpacks on and were walking toward the bleachers. At least tonight, it didn’t look like they’d need any extra prodding to get them out of the building.
“Hey, girls. How was practice?”
“Awesome. I scored two goals during our scrimmage,” Hazel answered first. Unlike Reese, who’d been playing soccer since she was a toddler, Hazel had only started in the spring. And until today, she’d never scored a goal in a game or at practice.
“That’s great. Congratulations.” He gave her a high five. “How was practice for you, short stuff?”
“Good. I didn’t let any balls into the goal. Coach Bruno said he might let me play keeper for the first half of our game on Saturday.”
At some point since he’d walked inside, it’d started raining. Others might disagree, but there wasn’t anything much worse than rain on a chilly day. Without being told, the girls sprinted for his car, and Curt followed.
“I told Hazel you’re related to the president and that I’ve been to the White House, but she doesn’t believe me. Can you tell her I’m not making it up?” Reese asked as she buckled her seat belt.
He’d never asked, and Reese never brought it up, but he’d assumed she’d told her best friend a long time ago that President Sherbrooke was his uncle and that she’d spent time with the man on several occasions. The most recent being earlier this month, when they’d attended a family gathering at the White House to celebrate Uncle Warren’s reelection.
“Reese is telling you the truth, Hazel. President Sherbrooke is my uncle. And Reese did go to the White House earlier this month.”
“See. I told you I was telling the truth.”
Even without turning around, he knew there was a triumphant smile on Reese’s face. He could hear it in her voice.
“My uncle Thomas is my mom’s brother. If President Sherbrooke is your uncle, does that mean he’s your mom’s brother?” Hazel asked.
“No, Uncle Warren and my dad are brothers.”
“Cool. What’s it like at the White House? Does it really have a bowling alley inside? Mrs. Andrews, my second-grade teacher, had a book about the White House. One picture showed a bowling alley. I’d love to have one in my house.”
He’d made more than one visit to the White House during the four years Uncle Warren had been calling it home, but he’d only used the bowling alley once. Curt had done it more so he could say he’d bowled in the White House, something few people ever got the opportunity to do, than because he loved the activity.
“It does, but it’s not big like Willow Tree Lanes.” He and Taylor had taken Reese and Hazel to the popular bowling alley in Windham on more than one occasion. “And there are no video games down there.”
“The White House also has a game room and a movie theater,” Reese added. “I got to watch a movie there with Aunt Taylor and Curt.”
He’d noticed she’d been far more impressed by the movie theater than the bowling alley.
“Really? Can I come with you guys the next time you go?” Hazel asked.
You had to ask. Curt liked Hazel. She had a personality much like Reese’s, and she was always polite. He hated to disappoint her, but at the same time, he didn’t want to lie. “Probably not. They don’t allow a lot of visitors into the White House. Reese was only able to go because her aunt and I are engaged.”
“That stinks. I’d love to see the bowling alley and meet President Sherbrooke. Mom said he’s the best president we’ve had in a long time.”
Curt agreed and would’ve even if the man wasn’t his uncle.
“He might come to Curt and Aunt Taylor’s wedding. The First Lady too. Maybe you can meet him then,” Reese said.
Although they’d decided to keep the wedding as small as possible, when Reese asked if she could invite Hazel, they’d agreed. According to the RSVP, Hazel’s mom and stepdad were accompanying her rather than her dad and stepmother, a fact that pleased both him and Taylor since neither of them cared for Hazel’s stepmom. Actually, not even Reese like her friend’s stepmom, and she liked everyone.
“Is he really going to be at your wedding, Curt?” Hazel asked.
“It’s possible.”
His uncle tried to attend every wedding and major family event he could. Since Uncle Warren first took office, he’d only missed three of the ten weddings that had taken place, and one of them he’d missed simply because Curt’s cousin Jake had a secret wedding in Hawaii to avoid a media frenzy and hadn’t invited his parents.
“I hope he comes. It’d be so cool to tell the kids at school I met the President of the United States.”
At Hazel’s age, he would’ve been far more eager to meet his favorite baseball player than a politician, but to each their own. “If he comes, I’ll make sure you meet him and the First Lady, my aunt Elizabeth.” Curt pulled into Hazel’s driveway and put the car in park.
“Awesome. I’ll text you after dinner, Reese,” she said, opening the car door. “Thanks for the ride home, Curt.”
He waited until Hazel’s mom opened the door and the girl went inside before backing out of the driveway. And once they were back on the road, Reese launched into what he’d dubbed “411 mode” and gave him every detail about her day at school, including the fact that Justin, Hazel’s cousin, threw up in the middle of gym class—a detail he could’ve done without, but when Reese filled you in on her day, she didn’t leave anything out.