7:14 a.m.
The sll of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen. The toaster worked at a steady pace, and the pan sizzled with unenthusiastic scrambled eggs. Everything seed in order, except for one thing: Caron.
Andrew noticed it instantly as he stepped through the hallway door, already for school, backpack slung over one shoulder, hair barely styled. He picked up on the silence from his father, who was cooking without a word. And that, when it ca to Cam, was a bad sign.
Lily was in her high chair, making a ss with her breakfast. She had cereal stuck to her forehead, yogurt on the sleeve of her pajamas, and a little spoon she had clearly decided to use as a percussion instrunt against the tray. And yet, Cam said nothing. No silly songs. No high-pitched voices or phrases like "That spoon doesn't go in your ear, sweetheart!"
Nothing.
Just... silence.
A silence that slled like resentnt.
"Morning..." Andrew greeted cautiously as he sat in the chair next to Lily, setting his backpack at his feet.
Lily recognized him instantly. She looked at him, smiled with a mouth full of mush, and raised her right hand, also covered in breakfast, to wave at him enthusiastically.
"Hey, sweetheart," Andrew said, leaning in to kiss her forehead with a smile. Then he grabbed a napkin and wiped her off a bit.
Caron didn't even look up. He just gave a brief nod.
After a few minutes, Cam served Andrew a plate of eggs, placed four slices of toast, a coffee, and his protein shake in front of him.
"Thanks..." Andrew said, starting to eat.
No response.
Cam then served Mitch's breakfast, he wasn't in the room, probably getting ready in the bathroom or sothing, and sat down across from Andrew, on the other side of Lily, starting to clean her up and help her eat her food.
Andrew thought of a conversation topic to break the silence, sothing interesting.
"Were you able to replicate the recipe for the protein balls Monica made?" he asked.
The protein snacks Monica had made for him weeks ago were delicious. Those protein snacks Monica had made still lingered in Andrew's mind, and on his palate.
They weren't just good for adding protein between als, they were easy to carry, easy to store, and on top of that, delicious. Not in the "this is healthy so I tolerate it" way, but actually delicious. Even Cam, who was usually skeptical of anything that didn't co in the form of a bagel or croissant, had praised them.
The vlog Andrew had uploaded of the etup with subscribers had already surpassed a million views in record ti. Aside from showing the event itself, the end of the video featured Andrew opening the gifts live so everyone could see his reactions and so he could thank people properly.
The second part of the special was a sports challenge with his football friends: Archie, Reggie, Kevin, and Steve. He had fild it on Sunday, when the school gave them permission to use the field to run a variety of football-related challenges.
It was also well received. It had competitive monts, funny ones, and serious ones, all to crown a winner among the five.
Andrew had also given Monica feedback on her food, as she had requested. All he could offer were complints. Monica had shared the recipe happily, with exact asurents, personal notes, and tips.
And yet, despite having all that... Cam hadn't managed to replicate them successfully.
"I followed the recipe exactly," Cam said, looking offended. "And you know it."
"Yeah, but they didn't co out the sa. I don't know if it was the texture, the sweetness, or the psychotic chef soul Monica puts into them... but sothing was off," said Andrew.
"Sorry for not being a chef worthy of your fangirl," Cam replied with a mock-apologetic tone.
"What I ant," Andrew tried to clarify, "is that... if we already have all her tips, and you have all the ti in the world to experint—"
Cam raised a hand, stopping him like he'd just uttered blasphemy.
"Are you saying I have all the ti in the world, young man?"
"Uh... not like that," Andrew said quickly, fully aware he had just put his foot in his mouth.
Cam took a sip of his coffee and began counting on his fingers.
"Let's review: taking care of Lily, who, by the way, decided yogurt belongs in her hair today, dealing with the chaos that is Mitch when he goes full final-trial lawyer mode, planning all the als for the week, and your als with their exact, millitric, impossible grams of protein... not to ntion making sure this house doesn't implode on a daily basis. Believe , making perfect protein snacks hasn't exactly been my number one priority."
Andrew opened his mouth, but no words ca out.
Cam took a dramatic breath and added, "Why don't you just ask Monica to cook you another batch? Maybe you can get another Tupperware with a pretty little ribbon, since apparently no one in this house can match her divine level."
"She lives in New York!" Andrew replied.
"Well then I don't know... maybe you could ask Pippa to give it a try. Let's see how she feels about her boyfriend being obsessed with another girl's protein snacks," Cam snapped.
'Whoa... he's really mad about the prank', Andrew thought, surprised. It was rare to see his dad throw out comnts like that, at least at him.
"You're still mad about the prank, huh? I was only... 20%. Maybe 30% responsible. The rest is on Dad," said Andrew.
"Oh sure, bla soone else," Cam replied, taking another sip of coffee. "Like the guy who dropped the bomb isn't responsible just because soone else set the tir."
Andrew stabbed his fork into the eggs without another word. He ate in silence, knowing that anything he said would be used against him.
His mind drifted to other things. Tonight's Halloween. The sort of cold war he had going with Claire. He already had a prank in mind that might give him the edge this year, and truly scare Claire.
Thinking about it brought a faintly wicked smile to his face as he ate.
Then his thoughts shifted to football. In three days, it would be the final ga of the regular season, the ninth ga.
Palisades was on an incredible 8-0 winning streak. Their spot in the regional playoffs was already secured, but the next ga wasn't just a formality.
They were facing a rival team that was also 8-0.
It was rare to see sothing like that. Two undefeated teams clashing in the final week. It would be a physical, technical, and emotional ga.
But that wasn't all.
It was that school. Moose Ridge High School. An old rival of Andrew and his crew, one they hadn't faced since elentary school.
That "posh" school, as Jay would say with disdain. Spoiled kids. Expensive uniforms. Natural grass fields. Parents with deep pockets.
And worst of all for Archie and the others: Nick Thorpe.
A quarterback with decent talent, in Andrew's opinion. Nothing extraordinary. Average build, good arm, so mobility, but mostly, an arrogant attitude. He always acted like the world revolved around his ego.
Since they were little, Reggie, Archie, and the rest had hated him. Even though Nick never managed to beat them back in elentary school, his ego sohow always stayed intact.
Andrew didn't hate him. He simply... didn't see him as a worthy rival.
In fact, Nick probably wouldn't even be starting, he wasn't the team's starting QB.
Moose Ridge was another story now.
They were in top form. And that wasn't all. They already had experience in Division 4. They'd been state champions last year, though they weren't promoted, the CIF didn't consider them "established" enough yet. But if they won again this year, all signs pointed to them moving up to Division 3, a major milestone for the school.
They had cohesion. Confidence. Rhythm. And they were hungry to win the state title again and finally move up.
And even though Palisades had him, that didn't an they were solid from top to bottom. Andrew knew that better than anyone.
The truth was that, just a year ago, before the season even started, Palisades had been stuck in Division 5. A team with no history, no direction. The previous season (when Andrew was still in his final year of middle school), they hadn't even made it to the regional playoffs.
They were harmless. Bland. Just another team.
That year, while Palisades was being defeated without much glory, Andrew was wrapping up his last year of middle school.
People were already talking about him as a promising talent. An advanced quarterback.
But it wasn't until he entered high school, in his freshman year, that he made it real.
Winning the starting spot as a freshman was just the beginning. What ca next was a quiet revolution.
Palisades transford.
They went from an apathetic group to an inspired one.
Because Andrew didn't just play, he led. He organized better practices, worked with his lifelong friends: Reggie, Steve, Archie, and Kevin, since they were kids, shaping them with patience, with technique, with high standards.
Liam, the defensive leader, was another exceptional case: a natural talent, physical, with a team-first ntality. The kind of player who, in the hands of soone like Andrew, could be taken to the next level.
The rest of the team... well.
They had heart and discipline once they saw the team was working. Then ca the confidence of a winning squad. But the promotion to Division 4, last year's state championship, and the current 8-0 record...
None of that was a coincidence.
It was Andrew's effort. He was the one executing impossible plays while also making his teammates look better than they actually were.
He had elevated Palisades through sheer will, precision, and obsession.
And there they were: 8-0.
One step away from a perfect season. Heading into the regional playoffs as undefeated champions for over a year. With a real shot at repeating as 4D state champions.
And even though the ga against Moose Ridge was, without a doubt, the toughest of the year, Andrew believed they would win.
He wasn't expecting a 40-0 blowout. But he was expecting a solid win.
Two or three touchdowns ahead. Enough to make it clear who the real contender was.
And while he ntally ran through scenarios, opposing defensive sches, and how to punish the weak spots in Moose's safety coverage, his gaze had drifted off into his plate.
He didn't even notice his breakfast anymore.
Until a voice called out, "Andrew. Can you hear ? Earth to Andrew... do you copy?"
Andrew blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and slowly lifted his head.
Mitchell was standing there, just a few steps away, in a ridiculously ill-fitting Spider-Man costu.
Stuffed with fake foam muscles. Shiny fabric. Too tight around the chest, too baggy around the legs.
And a spider on the chest that looked like it had been drawn by a feverish child.
Andrew said nothing. He stared in silence, wearing either a neutral expression or one of deep shock at the costu monstrosity in front of him.
Mitchell raised his arms in a sort of heroic pose.
"Ta-da."
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