“Dad…is this good for your heart?” I said through my clenched teeth.
“I will be goalie,” he stated.
“No, exercise is good for him.” Eli smirked. “I’ll play. All I have to do is catch the ball with the stick and put it in the goal, right?”
They laughed and my father nodded, throwing him the black one.
He caught it, rolling it in his hands for a moment.
“Eli, they play dirty.”
“Hey! So do you!” Malik pointed at me.
“I have no idea what you are talking about.” I stretched, raising the stick above my head, and then down to the side. “It’s not my fault you all run into the end of my stick.”
“See there? It's The Terror rising from the ashes,” Roy said, lifting his hands from the ground to the sky.
“All right then, we must pick teams.” My mother came forward.
“Whatever the teams, Eli and Gwen can’t be on the same side.” Jeremy pointed at us both.
“Why?”
“It’s a new family rule,” my father stated, stepping forward. “Your mother and I will be captains. City Slicker, you're with my wife. Try not to embarrass her too badly. Gwen, you are with me. Malik, you are with the misses, Roy with me, and Jeremy—”
“Doggonit. I know I’m refereeing. There'd better be a round two. I want a turn laying the grass.”
We all knew what he meant, but Eli just kept eyeing the stick in his hands. “Laying the grass?” He finally looked up to ask me.
“It means knocking the wind out of somebody so badly that they just lay there like they were part of the grass,” Jeremy replied, coming over.
Eli nodded, and then looked to his lacrosse stick. “Do you mind if we switch? My power color is blue.”
“Power color? What?” Jeremy laughed.
“Yes, and I’m going to need all the help I can get with The Terror over here,” Eli said, switching sticks.
“Hey!” And there I was trying to help him.
“Come over, Gwen,” Roy called.
I walked over. “Good luck.”
“Thanks. Please watch out for my face, you know it’s my moneymaker.” He winked.
I shook my head. I was going to say it was actually his hands that were the moneymakers, but it would just sound dirty with my family around. “No, seriously, please don’t mess up his face,” I said to them when they pulled me into the huddle.
“Guinevere, he is not on your team,” my father said to me. “We are on your team, and your teammates want to win, so…?”
“Lay them out.” It felt like high school all over again.
“I can’t hear y
ou.”
“Lay them out!” I said louder.
“Are you just going to hug each other all day over there?” my mother yelled.