Bruno winces. “We don’t want some sad ‘Let me go drive my truck and drink a beer’ song.”
Toby’s lips quirk. “Ms. Morgan, what do you think?”
I tap my chin. “‘Boom Boom Pow’ by the Black Eyed Peas is upbeat.”
Bruno nods. “It’s not terrible, but . . . I don’t know . . .”
“Bullocks. You’re hard to please,” Sonia tells him.
Bruno runs his eyes over the team that came to the meeting. “I have high expectations. We’re gonna beat those bast—I mean Rams, and I want to jump-start it good.” He heaves out a sigh. “We need the perfect song.”
“‘Gangnam Style,’” says a voice from the door. Caleb. There’s a burrito in his hands as he leans against the doorjamb. “It gets people on their feet.”
“Hey!” I say with a smile.
Caleb gives me a jerky nod. “Hey. I—I was just coming by to chat and overheard you guys.”
He’s been by twice since he came back to school, Just to say hi, he says, but I think he needs people. Grief can isolate a person. “Come in and help us,” I say.
Bruno waves him in. “Yo! I like it, dude. It’s got smooth moves.” He proceeds to shake his butt and wave his arms like he’s riding a horse. “It’s fresh, a little country with the horse move, and the rest is sexy—which will drive the girls crazy. I love it! Yeah, yeah!” He turns to the players and pumps his fist. “Can we do this, guys?!”
They mumble among themselves while I bring up the song on my phone and play it.
A few heads start nodding at the electric beat. Bruno does the horse-riding move, then a lasso one as a few of the guys get up and attempt to dance. Sonia tosses her salad in the trash and gets out there with them.
Caleb sets his burrito down and stands in front of them and does all the moves, adding some popping, spins, and robot moves.
I shake my hips and twirl my finger in the air. “Go, Caleb!”
He smirks, then finishes the song by dropping to the floor and break-dancing as the guys cheer him on.
“You’re really good. You think you can help us get that together?” Toby asks Caleb after they’ve finished.
Caleb shrugs.
“We’re meeting in here for lunch this week to figure it out.” I pause, recalling seeing his school record with the counselor. “Didn’t you do drama last year?”
Caleb nods. “Yeah.”
“Great!” I exclaim. “Then maybe you can help us with wardrobe as well?” I give him a “Please help us” look.
Bruno juts in. “We need pull-apart jerseys.”
I pat Bruno on the arm. “We all know you have muscles under your shirt.”
“Your hot cheerleader girlfriend knows too,” Sonia calls, and a few of the guys laugh.
I give Bruno a pointed look. “Give it up.”
He lets out an aggrieved exhale. “Okay, so what should we wear?”
“Boots and jeans,” Milo calls.
“A furry Bobcat outfit,” another player calls.
Bruno rolls his eyes. “We can’t dance in a hot-as-heck fur outfit. What do you think, bro?” He looks at Caleb.
Several moments pass as Caleb squints and paces around the room, studying the players, his forehead furrowed, an animated quality about him I haven’t seen before. “Suit jackets and dress pants from the Goodwill or something sharp in your closet you don’t mind ruining. Fedoras if we can find them. Sunglasses for sure. We loosen the seams on the clothes; then halfway through the song, you jerk them off. Maybe twirl them around”—he smirks—“kinda like a striptease. Your jersey and football pants are underneath.”
“Yeah, yeah, I like it. Can you come tomorrow?” Bruno asks him.
Caleb looks at me. I give him a pleading look and hold my hands up in a prayer.
He laughs. “Okay.”
“Good.” Toby slaps Caleb on the back. “Be prepared. Half of us can’t dance, me included.”
“This is true,” Sabine says as she comes over. “I tried to teach him a TikTok dance, and he tripped over the coffee table.”
“All right,” Toby says to Caleb. “The game is next week. Does that timeline work?”
Caleb nods. “Who’s going to loosen the seams?”
Sabine raises her hand. “I can help.”
“Me too,” I add.
“My granny will,” Milo adds.
“I’m in,” Sonia offers.
We decide to ask a few others to help with the wardrobe. Sabine makes a list of names and offers to make the calls.
The bell rings.
I clap my hands. “Okay, guys, same time tomorrow. Pick up your lunches, and toss them in the trash, please.”
Toby gets mine, Sabine’s, and his, then throws them away as they walk out the door together.
Bruno ambles over to me. “Thanks for, you know, taking this on.”
“Aw, you’re welcome, Bruno,” I say. “Don’t forget to answer your poetry questions.”
He rolls his eyes and walks out the door.
“Ms. Morgan?” says a deep voice.
I glance up as Andrew files in, maneuvering between the students as they leave.