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friends’ dads, by the way.)
    â€œWhat books? Maybe I can find them,” I said.
    â€œDang it,” Aleah whispered. “Daddy’s awake. I have to go.”
    â€œOh. Okay,” I said. “Okay, I love…”
    Aleah was gone. The Skype window closed.
    I sat in the light of my laptop. Alone again. I had to go to sleep. We had a game the next night and I play better if I’m rested (although I’m never exactly rested). The house was dark. I lived in the basement. The basement is a door away from the garage where my dad died. This didn’t ever bother me when I was younger. Why didn’t it bother me?
    My stomach tweaked. The hole got big. I texted Andrew: You awake?
    No , he replied.
    I have a hole , I texted.
    Are you being gross? Or trying to be profound? Andrew texted.
    I feel weird , I texted.
    Let’s talk tomorrow, brother. We should talk , he replied.
    We didn’t talk because I had a football game against River Valley and I scored three touchdowns and ran for 228 yards and then I went for pizza with Cody, Karpinski, Abby Sauter, and Jess Withrow.
    It was a great night.

Accelerating Fall
    Recruiting, Mumble Mouth, Justify Your Existence, Pig Boy, The End

Chapter 5
    Barfed Upon in Madison
    I made two recruiting visits during football season—Wisconsin and Northwestern—and two right after the season—the School That Shall Not Be Named and Stanford—because they’re not so close to Bluffton and I needed time to travel.
    I went to these schools to see if I liked them, to see if I wanted to move to one of these foreign places where I would be part of a football program, be part of a “culture.” (That’s what the coaches called life in the program—a “culture.”)
    Not enjoyable for me. I didn’t really know what I was looking for, so I didn’t ask questions. Plus, I didn’t like most of the football coaches—didn’t like the way they talked, the way they moved, the way they smelled. Didn’t like their haircuts or their clothes or their big-knuckled hands. These dudes make me jumpy, squirrely. The football players, for the most part, seemed like young versions of these big-knuckled, powerful old dudes.
    I didn’t know how to talk to them.
    I didn’t want to talk to them.
    What a dork!
    They didn’t like me either. In the end, at the end of my visits, I think most of the coaches and players wanted to punch me in the face.
    At least no one actually punched me. That would be bad press for the program for sure.
    Headline: Coach Punches Top Recruit’s Dumbass Face!
    ***
    Wisconsin Visit
    Before visiting Madison, Wisconsin, home of the University of Wisconsin, I sort of figured I’d end up a Wisconsin Badger. Especially if Aleah didn’t go to college. Everyone else thought I’d be a Badger too. The university is close to Bluffton (only like an hour away). Madison is a cool town. I’d have some friends there. (Abby Sauter, who is a great friend, the best, is going to Wisconsin.) I was excited to make this trip.
    Because I’m from Wisconsin, the Wisconsin coaches set me up to hang out with another Wisconsin “product.” (Players from a state are considered “products” of the state. Other Wisconsin products include cheese, sausage, beer, and also lawn mowers.) The dude they set me up with is named Bart Kunzel. He’s a giant lineman from a town called Hartland (near Milwaukee). He’ll be a senior next year, and if he doesn’t break a leg or get his knee ripped in half, he’ll definitely play in the NFL.
    He was okay. Fine. I just didn’t have much to say to him. I stuttered a lot. Mumbled. I asked him if he’d ever visited the Milwaukee Zoo. He said no. Then I asked him if he ever saw the famous shit-throwing gorilla at the Milwaukee Zoo. He said, “How would I see the gorilla if I never went to the zoo?”
    Good point.
    He squinted at