On the first day of football practice a month before senior year started, Coach introduced a new student. Jeremy Lyon was “someone who’s gonna teach you lazy-ass pussies how to play football,” Coach said, and Jeremy went around and shook hands with every damn member of the team. “Hey, I’m Jeremy, how’s it going? Nice to meet you. Jeremy Lyon, good to meet you, dude.”

Gay was the first word that came to Levi’s mind.

But no one else seemed to pick up on it—maybe because Jeremy could play. After an hour, it was obvious he was crazy good at football. He looked as if he’d been in the NFL for years—six-foot-three, rock-solid muscle and a frame that could withstand three linebackers trying to wrestle him to the ground. He could thread a needle with that football, could dodge and twist and slip into the end zone, using what Coach called “Notre Dame razzle-dazzle.”

Levi’s job as wide receiver was to get downfield as fast as possible and catch those beautiful passes. He was pretty good at football—which wasn’t going to translate into a scholarship no matter how much his mom hoped it would—but Jeremy was great. After four hours, the team started to speculate that they might have their first winning season in nine years.

On Friday of that first week, Jeremy invited everyone to his place for pizza. And quite the place it was; it was all modern and shit, windows everywhere, the kitchen floor so shiny that Levi took off his shoes. The living room furniture was white and sleek, like a movie set. Jeremy’s room had a king-size bed, a state-of-the-art Mac, a huge TV with a PlayStation and about fifty games. His parents introduced themselves as Ted and Elaine and made it seem like nothing could be more fun than having thirty-four high school boys over. The pizza was homemade (in the pizza oven, which was one of four ovens in the kitchen), and there were platters of massive sandwiches on that expensive bread with the Italian name. Every kind of pop—the fancy kind, not generic, like Levi’s mom bought. They had a wine cellar and a special wine fridge and beers from every microbrewery around. When Asswipe Jones asked for a beer, Mrs. Lyon just ruffled his hair and said she didn’t feel up for jail today, and Asswipe didn’t seem to mind one bit.

Levi walked through the house, carefully holding his bottle of Virgil’s root beer, and tried not to gape. Modern paintings and abstract sculptures, a fireplace that took up an entire wall, an outdoor fireplace on the deck, a fireplace in the rec room downstairs, where there was also a pool table, foosball, another huge TV and PlayStation and a fully stocked bar.

Then, abruptly, Jeremy was at his side. “Thanks for coming tonight, Levi.”

“Yeah, sure,” Levi said. “Nice place.”

“Thanks. My parents went a little nuts, I think. Like, do we really need a statue of Zeus?” He grinned and rolled his eyes.

“Right,” Levi said.

“Hey, you wanna hang out tomorrow? Maybe catch a movie or just stay here?”

Levi took a long drink of pop, then glanced at Jeremy. Yeah. Gay, he was almost sure. “Uh, listen, dude,” he said. “I have a girlfriend.” Well, he slept with Jessica once in a while, if that counted. But still. Message given: I’m straight.

“Cool. Well, you can both come if you don’t have anything better to do.” Jeremy paused. “I don’t know anybody yet, that’s all.”

It was a patent request, and why him, Levi didn’t know. Eventually, he supposed, Jeremy would be told by some other rich kid that the Coopers were white trash, give or take, that Levi didn’t own a car and worked two after-school jobs. But for now, a chance to hang out here, in this place, get a little peek at how the other half lived... “Sure. Thanks. I’ll see if she’s free. Her name’s Jessica.”

“Cool. Seven o’clock? My mom’s a great cook.”

“Thank you, baby,” his mom said, coming into the room with a tray of sandwiches. Seeing the two of them standing together, she froze. Her smile was suddenly just a stretch of the mouth.

“It’s the truth, Mom.” Jeremy put his arm around his petite mother and kissed her on the head, then snagged a sandwich. “She beats me if I say otherwise,” he added to Levi.

Mrs. Lyon was looking at Levi, a small frown between her eyes. “What’s your name again, dear?”

“Levi,” Jeremy answered for him. “He’s a wide receiver. We’re gonna hang out tomorrow, if that’s okay. His girlfriend’s coming, too.”

“Oh, you have a girlfriend!” The mom instantly relaxed. “How nice! Of course! Yes, yes, both of you should come over. It’d be lovely.”

“She might have to work,” Levi said. “I’ll check. But thank you.”

“Does your girlfriend have a friend?” Mrs. Lyon asked.

“There she goes, trying to find her future daughter-in-law,” Jeremy said, smiling easily. There was a crash from upstairs, followed by a curse. “That sounds like soda on white upholstery to me. Told you not to buy that couch,” he added.

“Oh, stop. It’s not like you’re a bunch of animals,” his mom said.

“Hate to break it to you, but we pretty much are,” Levi said. Jeremy’s grin widened, and he went with his mom to clean up the mess, presumably.

So, yeah. Jeremy was gay. Or just...Californian. Or both.

Levi went back the next night, needing to hitchhike from his own house after his shift ended at the marina. He’d spent six hours cleaning boats in dry dock, which, while exhausting, allowed him to work shirtless and be ogled by Amber What’s-Her-Name, who was here for the weekend. Jess didn’t want to miss the Saturday night tips, so Levi went alone.

At Jeremy’s, they ate with the parents (duck, if you could believe it), then did the typical guy things—ate some more, played Soldier of Fortune on the downstairs PlayStation. When Jeremy asked where Levi was thinking of going to college, Levi hesitated, not wanting to clue Jeremy in just yet that college was so far out of reach he wasn’t even thinking of applying. “Not sure yet,” he said.

“Me, neither,” Jeremy answered easily, though Levi had heard he was being heavily recruited. “So. Tell me who the cute girls are at school. I’m hoping to have a girlfriend this year.”

It was so awkward that Levi almost winced. Still, there was something about Jeremy, an innocence or something. “Did you have a girl back home?” he asked, testing him.

“Not really. No one special. You know.” Jeremy looked away. “With football and classes and all, it’s kind of hard to find the time.”

Levi’s experience had been completely different; girls propositioned him constantly. Unless you were a prepubescent freshman, some chick would throw herself at you, so long as you wore the uniform on Friday nights, no matter how bad the team had sucked.

When it got late, Levi said he’d walk back, even though it was seven miles down the Hill and around the Village to West’s. But Jeremy insisted on driving him; he had a convertible, for God’s sake, and the thing was, he didn’t act like an asshole. “Great night for a drive, huh?” Jeremy said amiably, hopping into the car without opening the door. Levi followed suit, which was what people did if they had convertibles, he guessed.

Jeremy talked all the way to Route 15, telling Levi about life in Napa (pretty awesome), the reasons his parents wanted to relocate (his dad had gotten an ulcer, and they figured New York was more mellow when it came to wine-making), asking him questions about Coach and some of the teams they’d be facing.

“Right here. West’s Trailer Park.” He waited for Jeremy to realize he’d picked the wrong teammate to befriend.

“Gotcha. Which one?” Jeremy asked, turning into the drive.

“Last one on the left. Thanks for the ride, man. And thank your mom for dinner.”

“No, it was great to have you. See you at practice.”

Then he waved and executed a neat little turn and drove off, the sound of the motor humming quietly in the distance.

And so a friendship began. Over the next month, Jeremy frequently asked Levi over for dinner until one day, Levi’s mother snapped, “Why don’t you ask him here? Are you ashamed of us or something?” When Jeremy showed up, he had flowers for Levi’s mother, told Sarah she was gorgeous and made no comment on the water-stained ceiling, the jug wine in the fridge or the fact that the four of them could barely fit in the kitchen.

“Is that tuna casserole?” he said as Levi’s mother set the Pyrex dish on the table. “Oh, man, that’s my favorite! I haven’t had this in ages. My mom is so stuck-up about food. This, though. This is living.” He grinned like they’d just pulled off a bank heist and ate three helpings while Mom cooed and sighed.

“That is a very nice boy,” she announced after Jeremy had left, her tone slightly reverent.

“Yeah,” Levi agreed.

“Does he have a girlfriend?”

“I think you’re a little old for him.” He grinned at her, and she did blush.

“I’ll be his girlfriend,” Sarah said fervently.

“And you’re a little young,” Levi said, pulling her hair. “Go brush your teeth, kid.” His sister obeyed.

His mom ran a hand through her dyed blond hair, revealing black roots. “Well. I just meant, a handsome boy like that, all that charm and nice manners. Maybe some will rub off on you.”

“Thanks, Ma.”

“I bet he’s not the type to go running around with slutty girls.”

“No, he’s definitely not.” Levi raised an eyebrow at his mom. She missed his point.

“What you see in that Jessica Dunn is beyond me.”

“She puts out.” His mom slapped his head, and Levi ducked, grinning. “She’s also got a great personality,” he added. “Or something like that.”

“You’re horrible. Help me clean up. I bet your friend helps his mother.”

One day, after school had started up again, Levi and Jeremy were heading into the cafeteria. The door was blocked by someone just standing there—Princess Super-Cute, her red hair in a ponytail, always asking people to sign up to collect bottles or save the seals, her life’s mission to make sure everyone on earth liked her. Now she was just standing there, oblivious to the throng of people who couldn’t get in to eat lunch.

“Move it, Holland,” Levi said.

She didn’t answer. Ah, shit, she was doing that thing, plucking at her little ruffly shirt and looking confused. Levi took a step forward, but before he could catch her, she crumpled to the floor and started jerking.

“Oh, my God!” Jeremy blurted, flinging off his backpack to kneel at her side. “Hey, hey, are you all right?”

“She’s got epilepsy,” Levi said. He pulled off his sweatshirt to stick under her head. A small crowd was forming, Faith’s occasional seizure always a hit. Twelve years of the same kids...you’d think people would get used to it. Each year, the nurse would come in to their classroom and give the epilepsy talk, like they all needed a reminder and Faith needed the embarrassment. It was the one time of year that he felt sorry for her. Well, then, and when her mom died.

Jeremy already had his arms around her. “You’re not supposed to move her,” Levi said, but Jeremy picked her up and was shouldering his way down the hall.

And that was that. The school talked about it for days; how Jeremy was like some kind of knight or something, how could Faith not fall for him, it was so romantic, didn’t you kind of wish you had epilepsy or fainted once in a while? Levi’s eyes actually got tired from rolling.

“I’m in love, my friend,” Jeremy said a couple weeks later. “She’s amazing.”

“Yeah.”

“Really. She’s beautiful. Like an angel.”

Levi gave him a look. “Sure.”

Despite not having a father, Levi was what his boss called a man’s man. Football since fourth grade, an aptitude with tools, his first girlfriend at twelve, first sex at fifteen. He’d stayed back the year his father left and was therefore older than his classmates, had started putting on muscle in seventh grade, could drive sophomore year of high school, and those things ensured him some respect. He’d always run with a pack of guys.

And guys did not talk about their girlfriends being beautiful like an angel. They talked about their tits, their asses, if and when they might put out. If a guy was really in love, he’d just shut up and occasionally punch the person (often Levi) who speculated on the tits and ass of the girl in question.

Levi was no expert, but he guessed that Jeremy might not know he was gay. Or if he did, he might not want to admit it. Jeremy was awfully careful in the locker room, which was odd for a kid who’d played football for a decade. Most of the guys didn’t think about it, though some liked to strut around na**d, in love with their own junk. There were, of course, the g*y jokes, and Jeremy laughed cautiously, sometimes glancing at Levi to see if it was actually funny (it never was). Nope, Jeremy just kept his eyes down until he was dressed. When Big Frankie Pepitone got a tattoo on his shoulder, all the other guys admired it and made sure to give Frankie a slap on the newly inked and still angry-looking skin (because football players liked to hurt each other, after all), but Jeremy could barely drag his eyes up to the tatt. “Cool” was all he said, and Levi got the impression that maybe Jeremy was afraid of what his face would show if he did look at Big Frankie.

Whatever. Jeremy was a good guy, and Levi didn’t really care if Faith Holland was his beard or the love of his life. It was his senior year; he figured he’d be enlisting, so he was going to have all the fun he could. And being around Jeremy was fun. The guy was funny, smart, laid-back and decent as anything. Levi and Jess, Jeremy and Faith hung out sometimes, catching a movie or going to the Lyons’ house, because Faith had too many siblings, and why go to the trailer park when Jeremy’s house was a fricking playland? But Jess didn’t much like Faith (and did a deadly impression of her), so, often, it was just the three of them, Jeremy, Levi and Faith.