The blue team ran onto the field too soon. Eli was in the middle, waving both arms at the empty bleachers. His new shirt hung past his shorts.
Jen pulled into the lot and checked the time. Ten minutes until the game. Her phone buzzed on the seat beside her.
"We're at the old place," her dad said when she called back. Boxes filled the hall. The rental truck was parked out front. "I thought you'd be here by nine."
Jen looked through the fence. Eli had found his coach. He bounced on his toes while the other kids kicked at the grass. This was his first game. He had talked about it all week.
"I know, Dad. I said I'd help," she said.
Her dad was moving from the house where she grew up. He had packed most of it alone. He'd saved the heavy things for her, the bookcase, the table, the old chest from her room. Two other people were coming, but they were late.
"I can wait a bit," he said. His voice was flat. "But the truck costs by the hour."
Eli saw her car. He lifted one hand high. Then he pointed at the bleachers. His coach called his name, and he ran back to the line.
Jen held the keys so tight they pressed into her palm. She had promised her dad last month. She had promised Eli this morning that she'd watch from the start. A lawn mower started by the far fence. One child kicked a ball into the net, then ran after it laughing.
The whistle blew once as a warm-up call. Her dad was still on the phone. The road to his old house ran the other way, past the diner and old gas station.
"Tell me where you need me," Jen said.