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screen. “You know, I believe in this whole team thing. I mean, a marching band is like a team. An orchestra? How about that for working together, right? And those things . . .” Landon’s father sat back in his chair and got a faraway look. “Those things are what I remember most. You’re part of something.”
    Landon’s dad looked at him and Landon let their eyes stay connected over the empty space. It wasn’t something he and his father did very much, just look at each other, but it was as if this moment was one they’d both remember, and for some reason it didn’t feel weird. His dad had dark brown eyes and a big forehead. His nose was slightly flattened and his mouth a bit too small for everything else. Looking at him, Landon felt like he was looking into a mirror, seeing himself in the future.
    â€œThere’s real team spirit,” his father said. “I want you to have that.” Landon’s dad turned back to the iMac and moved through to the purchase screen. He clicked the rush delivery icon, but the earliest delivery for the helmet and skullcap wasSaturday, a few days after the start of Landon’s football career.
    â€œMonday we’ll get you football shoes—cleats,” his dad said. They slapped a high five.
    Neither of them had seen his mother creep up on them, so it startled them both when she barked, “What’s going on here?”

8
    Landon’s father jumped out of his seat, and the contrast between Landon’s parents was staggering. His father towered, a giant of a man, but his body was soft and slouching like he was made of pillows. He blocked Landon’s mom from the iMac. She glared up at him. Standing straight, her chin barely cleared his father’s belt line, but her eyes fixed on his like a bird of prey.
    â€œI was uh . . . helping.” His father’s fingers fluttered in front of him.
    Landon sat and watched her peer around him and examine the iMac with growling hostility. Her lips curled away from her teeth. “I see.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “Yes, I see.”
    She turned and marched away. Landon looked at his dad, who smiled, saying, “She’ll come around. She’s just worried about you.”
    By Tuesday night she had come around. Landon knew when his mom called his dad from the kitchen. “Forrest? I could use some help here. It turns out this football business is a family affair in Bronxville. I ran into Landon’s coach’s wife, Claire Furster, on the train into work this morning and found out that the mothers are expected to supply something for some sort of bake sale, so I was thinking oatmeal cookies with honey instead of white sugar—something partially healthy at least.”
    Landon looked at his dad.
    â€œOf course.” Landon’s dad hurried off toward the kitchen.
    â€œAnd Landon?” His mother pointed at him. “You better get some sleep. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

9
    On Wednesday morning Landon’s mother left for work on an early train. Her cookies rested in a Tupperware container with the doctor’s clearance and a note taped to the cover for Landon’s father in case she had to work late and couldn’t talk to the football people herself. Genevieve was holed up in her room working at her online French class. She told Landon she wanted him to walk into town with her for lunch at the diner with two of her new friends. Later, she said, they’d all swim at the house.
    Even though school was still over a week away from starting, football practice wasn’t until the evening because the coaches had real jobs, and Landon was up for any distraction that would keep the voices of doubt at bay.
    After Genevieve got acquainted with Megan Nickell, she had used Instagram and Snapchat to make friends with theother seventh-grade Bronxville girls as well. But Landon still wondered how she really did it, how she just