The French doors to the balcony were open and a warm breeze wafted over me, scented with the night blooming flowers I’d planted when we first moved ...nto our dream home. I pulled my white silk robe around me and followed the fragrance onto the moonlight-drenched balcony. I’ve never understood why people describe nighttime as being quiet. Summer nights are filled with sound… the wind chimes on the front porch tolled mournfully, countless crickets sang their songs of courtship, and in the tree. "Every school is having the same conversation right now with theircurrent kickers. I got off the phone with Coach Bullnose over atWhispering Pines High. He says his kickers quit. I need your decisionwithin a week. Be back here next Friday after last class."His words slew me. My hopes, my dreams, my future: all gone because ofsome girly bureaucratic and viral-video nonsense. I got up to walk out."Don't forget your playbook when you come," he said to me sadly as Ileft.-----000-----"We need to. More

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