“Benny didn’t want to stay?” Gram asks. “He’s more than welcome. We have plenty.”

“No, his mom was expecting him home. Thanks, though. I know he appreciates the offer.”

I take a seat as Dad comes in. “Smells delicious, Mom,” he says.

“Spaghetti with meatballs. Have to make sure the athlete gets lot of protein and carbohydrates for tomorrow.”

We start passing plates around, and I think about how Dad and I used to spend our Sundays. He’d go out and get a bunch of Chinese food. We never ate at the table. Instead we’d kick back in the family room and eat in front of the television, watching ESPN.

Since Gram and Grandpa moved in a couple of months ago, things have been different. Gram loves to cook, or maybe she just loves seeing us eat, I’m not sure. I have to say, it’s pretty nice having home-cooked meals all the time now.

After my mom died when I was two, Gram and Grandpa begged my dad to let them move across the country and help him. But he didn’t want that. He said he could manage things on his own. I had a nanny until I was twelve, and after that I took care of myself. None of it ever bothered me, it’s just how it was. It was my normal, I guess.

I look at Grandpa, who I haven’t seen much today. “You feeling all right?”

He passes me the salad. “I’m feeling fine, Colby. Thanks for asking.”

He’s got MS, or multiple sclerosis, so some days are better than others. Dad finally invited them to come live with us when Grandpa’s symptoms started getting worse. My gram was so relieved. They used to visit us a few times a year, and each time I could tell by the comments she made that she hated being so far away.

“Can hardly believe it’s finally here,” Dad says as he picks up his glass of wine. “The season we’ve all been waiting for. I can’t wait to hear which college you choose, Colby. You know I’m rooting for Oregon, but of course, it’s up to you. You’ve got three great schools interested, and really, you can’t lose with a single one of them. You about ready to verbally commit?”

“Nope.”

He smiles. “Gonna string ’em along for a while, huh? Make ’em sweat?”

“Nah, I want to get through this season, that’s all. Then I’ll decide. There’s no hurry, right? I mean, signing day is still six months away.”

Last year was pretty intense with college visits and meetings with recruiters. I’m glad the season’s starting, so they’ll be busy and might leave me alone for a while.

“Well, I’m telling you, a verbal commit would be a good thing.”

I move my spaghetti around my plate. “But I’m really not sure yet. I just want to wait, you know?”

I look at him. His smile’s gone. “Fine. Though I don’t know what else you could possibly need to make a decision.”

“More time, okay? I need more time.”

“All right, then. Enjoy it. There’s nothing more exciting than your senior year when you’re a football player. I remember mine like it was yesterday.”

I let out a big sigh. I’m tired of talking about this, and I don’t want to pretend to be excited when I’m not. He’s always just assumed I want to play college ball. He’s never asked me, not once, about my feelings on the subject. Bugs the crap out of me.

“The spaghetti’s really good,” I tell Gram. “Did you do something different?”

“Why, yes, I did. I’m surprised you noticed.”

Yeah, well, just because my dad is clueless a lot of the time, doesn’t mean I am too.

It’s monday morning, a little before seven, and we’re quietly padding up, getting ready to take the field.

“Gather round,” Coach Sperry yells.

We hit the gym with the new coach in June and July, but this will be our first time on the field with him.

Half dressed, we do as he says. Coach walks around, handing each of us a small laminated card. I read the words. They’re the same ones on the new sign hanging on the wall of the locker room.