The late summer sun was still hot enough to sting, hanging low over the high school field. The air was full of whistles, shouts, and the thud of helmets colliding. Keithie Fender wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his glove, heart racing from the new rhythm of football practice.

On the sidelines, Jiji sat perched on the bleachers, her legs swinging as she clapped and cheered whenever his number was called. She wasn’t subtle about it—cupping her hands around her mouth, yelling his name, even laughing when he tripped over a cone during warm-ups.

Keithie tried to focus, but every time he caught her voice, his chest lit up like someone had plugged him into the floodlights. She always came to his soccer practices—this, though, this was different. Football was new. Hard. And still, she was there.

His dad stood with his arms crossed at the edge of the field, watching both the drills and Keithie’s not-so-secret distraction. After a while, he gave a low chuckle and nudged Keithie as he passed him a water bottle.

“Either she likes you,” his dad muttered, nodding toward Jiji, “or she’s flat-out crazy.”

Keithie’s eyes shot toward the bleachers where Jiji was waving at him with both hands, grinning like she owned the whole field. He couldn’t stop the smirk that spread across his sweaty face, wide and bright.

“Ya think she likes me?” he asked, voice lighter than it had been in weeks.

His dad arched a brow like it was the dumbest question in the world. “Definitely. Kid, she’s not out here yelling herself hoarse for my health. She’s here for you.”

Keithie’s smirk grew into a grin he couldn’t fight. He tugged his helmet back on, jogging back onto the field with a burst of energy he hadn’t had all practice.

And from the bleachers, Jiji cupped her hands and shouted his name again, like she’d been waiting her whole life to cheer him on.