The room had gotten smaller.
Ms. Cordova was at the front with her coffee cup on the desk and her hands folded on top of it. She didn’t have the whiteboard pulled around. She didn’t have the packet in front of her.
“So,” she said. “How’d it go?”
“Hard,” the last remaining girl in the group, Priya, said. “The reading part. The passages were long and I kept losing my place and then I’d have to go back and start over and then I’d run out of time.”
Ms. Cordova nodded.
“What about you, Seth?”
“Math was fine,” he said. “Science was fine. The English part, the grammar stuff, that’s where I lost points. I kept second-guessing myself. I’d pick one answer and then change it and then change it back and then the time was up.”
Ms. Cordova nodded again.
“Did you use the pacing strategy we talked about?"
“I tried,” Seth said. “I think I did it for the first ten and then I forgot.”
She smiled.
Micah looked at the wall behind her. There was a poster there, a map of something, and he read the words on it without reading them. His phone was in his pocket. The email was on his phone. He hadn’t opened it. He’d seen the notification on Saturday morning and he’d swiped it away and he hadn’t looked at it since.
“Micah,” Ms. Cordova said.
He looked at her.
“How’d it go for you?”
He shrugged. The movement pulled at something in his shoulder, a tightness from Friday night that hadn’t loosened yet. “It was okay.”
“Any sections that gave you trouble?”
“I don’t know."
“Take a look when you get a chance. We’ll go over them individually next week. The idea today was just to talk about the experience. What it felt like. What you noticed. What you might do differently next time.”
She set the cup down. She looked at the clock on the wall. The minute hand was close to the top of the hour.
“Alright,” she said. “That’s it for today. Get to class.”
Priya was already standing. She picked up her phone and her bag and was at the door before Ms. Cordova had finished the sentence. Seth took his time. He stood and stretched and said something to Ms. Cordova that Micah didn’t catch and then he was gone too.
Micah stood. His knees were stiff and his lower back was tight and the soreness had settled into his hips and his shoulders and the backs of his thighs. He picked up his bag and slung it over his right shoulder and started for the door.
“Micah.”
He stopped. He turned.
Ms. Cordova was still at the desk. She had her hands on the legal pad and she was looking at him.
“How’d the test go?"
He shifted his weight. The bag pulled at his shoulder and he adjusted the strap.
“It was okay,” he said. “Like I said, I haven’t had a chance to look at the results yet.”
She looked at him for a moment. Her eyes were on his face and he kept his face still.
“There are additional services available,” she said. “If you’re interested. There are accommodations we can look into if—”
“I was distracted that day,” he said. “I didn’t take it seriously enough. I’ll do better next time.”
She opened her mouth but he kept going.
“I need to get to class.”
He turned and pushed through the door. The hallway was bright after the classroom and the sound of lockers opening and closing came from both directions. He walked toward his first period and didn’t look back.
Ms. Cordova watched him go. The door swung shut behind him and the sound of it carried down the hall and was gone.
The trailer door opened and a man came out and another man went in and the door closed behind him.
Delvin watched it from his section. The line had been moving like that since seven, since the first truck pulled in and the first man crossed the lot and knocked. One in, one out. The rhythm of it was steady and slow and nobody was in a hurry because there was nowhere to hurry to.
He set the rebar in the channel and bent the tie wire around it. The pliers twisted the ends and he moved to the next one. The sun was already on his back and the metal was warm through his gloves. He worked down the row the way he’d worked down every row on every day of this job, one tie at a time, no rush, no pause, the same pace he’d set on the first morning and the same pace he’d hold until the last piece was in.
The trailer door opened. A man came out with a folded piece of paper in his hand. He looked at it and then looked at the sky and then walked toward his truck.
Delvin didn’t look up again. He tied the next bar and moved to the next.
The section was almost done.
He heard the truck before he saw it. The engine was rough, missing on one cylinder, and it came over the rise at the north end of the lot and pulled in near the water station. The door opened and Tony got out then Reuben then Jace.
Delvin looked up.
Jace’s shoulders were loose and his steps were long and uneven and his hand found the side of the truck and stayed there for a beat before he pushed off. He had his hat pulled low and he walked toward the south section without looking at anyone.
Delvin set the pliers down. He wiped his hands on his shirt and walked across the lot.
Jace was at his station, setting his bag on the ground, when Delvin got there. He didn’t look up.
“We got that job this weekend,” Delvin said. “Saturday morning."
Jace nodded. He pulled his gloves from the bag and put them on. His hands were slow about it.
“You hear me?”
“I heard you.”
Delvin looked at him.
“Go home,” Delvin said.
Jace reached for the shovel leaning against the form. He picked it up and turned toward the pile.
“Jace.”
Jace started digging. The shovel went into the dirt and he pulled it back and dumped it and the dirt fell in a loose pile at his feet. He didn’t look up.
Delvin reached out and grabbed his arm.
Jace pulled away. The motion was quick and sharp and Delvin’s hand came free and hung in the air between them for a second before he dropped it.
They stood there. Jace had the shovel in both hands and his weight was back on his heels and his eyes were locked onto Delvin’s. Delvin could feel the lot behind him.
He looked at Jace for another beat. Then he turned and walked back across the lot.
His section was where he’d left it. The pliers were on the ground next to the rebar and the tie wire was coiled beside them and the sun was on the metal and the metal was warm. He picked up the pliers and bent down and started the next tie.
The whistle blew twice.
Micah walked to the spot behind the center. The offense was already forming up around him, the linemen settling into their stances, the receivers splitting out to their positions. He stood behind the center and put his hands under him and felt the ball against his palms.
“Motion,” Coach Haines said.
Micah looked left. Levi was supposed to go in motion from the slot. He wasn’t moving. Micah held up his hand and pointed at him and Levi started walking, slow, like he was crossing a street.
“Go,” Micah said.
Levi went. The snap came up on him quickly. Micah’s hands weren’t ready and the ball hit his wrist and bounced off his thigh and hit the ground. He picked it up and he tried handed it to the back who was already past him.
“Again,” Coach Haines said.
They lined up. The ball came back clean this time and he tucked it and turned and the hole was there and he hit it and went four yards before someone got a hand on his jersey.
"There we go."
They ran it three more times. The third one he fumbled again. The snap was low and he had to reach for it and it slipped through his fingers and rolled behind him. He turned and got it and by then the play was dead.
“Set it,” Coach Haines said. “Everybody back.”
Micah walked back to the spot. He wiped his hands on his pants and readied them for the snap.
Dustin was standing on the sideline with his helmet off, watching. He said something to the guy next to him and the guy laughed. Micah didn’t catch it.
“Motion left,” Coach Haines said.
Micah looked left. The receiver wasn’t set. He held up his hand and waited and the receiver jogged to his spot and set his feet.
“Go,” Micah said.
The receiver went. The snap came. Micah took it clean and turned and the hole was there and he went through it and the linebacker filled and he lowered his shoulder and popped him, causing the linebacker to stumble a few steps before the whistle was blown.
“Better,” Coach Haines said. “Again.”
They lined up. The snap came. Micah took it and turned and the pulling guard was late and the hole closed before he got there and he had to cut outside and the corner came up and wrapped him at the line.
“Set it.”
They set it. Micah readied his hands for the snap, his fingers spread wide.
“Just tell him where to go,” Dustin said. His voice carried from the sideline. “Micah run. Micah smash. Micah score. Micah happy.”
A few guys laughed.
Micah turned and looked at Dustin. Dustin was standing with his helmet in one hand and his other hand on his hip, and the smile on his face was still there.
“Focus on hitting me across the middle,” Micah said. “Instead of skipping passes to my feet.”
The smile dropped. Dustin straightened up. His hand came off his hip.
Kele was between them before Micah finished turning. He stepped in from the line, his body filling the space, and his hand was on Micah’s chest and he was pushing him back, gentle, and his other hand was up toward Dustin, palm out.
Coach’s whistle blew. Two short bursts.
“Back to work,” Coach Sau said. He didn’t look at either of them. He was already walking toward the next group.
Kele kept his hand on Micah’s chest for another second. Then he dropped it and turned and went back to his spot on the line.
Micah lined up again behind the center.
"Go."
