The next morning, when I step outside, the faint scent of burning wood in the cool autumn air, I see an old car parked on the street in front of our house. It looks familiar, and yet, I can’t quite place it.

Russ steps out and waves. Of course. Now it comes together. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him. Pretty sure the last time was at Mrs. Lewis’s birthday party.

You’d never know Russ and Benny were brothers just by looking at them. Where Benny is all muscle, Russ is skin and bones. Soon as he was out of high school, he moved out, into a crappy little apartment with a couple of friends. He works at a grocery store. Started as a bag boy in high school, now he’s a cashier. Benny used to say, “Now that’s exactly what I don’t want my life to look like.”

“Hey, man,” he says as we meet in the driveway. I throw the sheet I’m holding into the back of my truck and shake his hand.

“Hey, Russ. You’re up kinda early, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I wanted to be sure to catch you. Look, I know the bake sale is going on today, and I want to see if I can do anything to help. I can’t bake anything worth shit, but could I do something else?”

I stick my hands in my pockets. “That’s great you want to help, but they’re all set with volunteers. Besides, this is about us helping you guys. You don’t need to do a thing.”

He looks past me, toward my house. “I wish I could do more to help him. I cannot stand being in that hospital room, man. I know that’s terrible, but I’m not good at pretending everything’s fine when it’s not, you know?”

“I don’t think you have to pretend,” I tell him. “Mostly I think it’s good for Benny to know that we care about him. That we support him. Right?”

“I guess. I just want to do something. I mean, something that matters. That makes a difference.”

I say it as nice as I can. “Russ, being there for him, talking to him, that matters. More than anything.”

He sighs. “I want him to get better. I want him to be his old self.”

“Well, that’s what this bake sale’s all about — helping him get into a good place where he can work toward that. Let’s hope people open their wallets wide today, in the name of Benny and baked goods.”

“Maybe I’ll stop by and get him a cake or something,” he says.

“That’s a great idea. I bet he’d love that.”

“You sure you don’t need any help?” he asks as I pull the car keys out of my pocket.

“I’m sure,” I tell him. “But thanks for the offer.”

“All right, then. I’ll leave you to it. Thanks, Colby. For doing this for him.”

“You’re welcome.”

As I drive to Lauren’s, I think about Russ and realize if it’s hard for me to imagine Benny never playing football again, it’s gotta be even harder for his family. I think they all looked at him as the one with the real chance at greatness. And now it must feel like that chance is gone.

I want to believe there’s always a chance, though. Isn’t that what Coach has been trying to tell us with the cards and the signs and the pep talks? That believing is more important than anything. It’s what keeps you going, even when things look bad.

And I know things look pretty bad right now.

But he’s alive. He’s out of the coma. He’s talking.

And really, from here on out, things can only get better.

Just how better, that’s the question.

Lauren’s quiet.

Is she nervous? Worried about the turnout? Or wondering if everything will go all right? I don’t want her to worry.

“You know, this is a good thing you’re doing. Benny’s family appreciates it a lot.”

“Thanks,” she says. “It’s been fun, working on this. I’m glad I’ve had something else to think about besides . . .” She stops. Smiles. “I think it’s going to be a great day. I’m excited.”

I wonder what she was going to say. I almost ask her but decide now’s not the time. “Yeah. Me too. So which pie should I buy?”

She turns and looks at me. “Well, I think the question is, what do you like?”

I raise my eyebrows. “You mean, as far as a pie goes?”

As soon as I say it, I realize my mistake. I shouldn’t have said that. But it’s hard to stay away from flirting territory all the time. I mean, it’s pretty fun there. Especially with Lauren.

I want her to reply with something like, “No, not as far as a pie goes, as far as a girl goes.”

And then I would say something like, “Well, you should know better than anyone right now.”

Then she would get all flustered and not know how to respond. And I could reach over for her hand, and take it in mine.

But Lauren, she’s good. She keeps things right where they are supposed to be. She replies, “Of course, as far as pie goes. That’s what we’re talking about, right?”

“I guess I like berry or apple,” I say, pretty unenthusiastically, because what I really want to say is, I like you.

“Well, you’ll get first choice,” she says.

I want to say, I choose you.

Clearly, this being friends thing has become a challenge for me. But that’s okay. I thrive on challenges (or at least, this is what I tell myself).

When we get to the location of the bake sale, the tables and canopies are all set up and the place looks fantastic. Mr. Curtiss, Lauren’s boss, is setting up a couple of cash registers with change, which he offered to do.

Lauren goes over to talk to him and I simply stand back and watch her for a minute. I could watch her all day, actually, but I have pies to carry over.

Very carefully, one at a time, I take the pies to a table. Lauren comes over a little while later with colorful doilies, the ingredients lists, and the price tags. Each of the pies made with pudding are in boxes with a couple of ice packs on the bottom. The other pies, she puts on little stands she made. When she’s done, I have to say, the table looks amazing.