Just Too Good to Be True by E. Lynn Harris

Move
    A fter a quick meal of a double cheeseburger, onion rings, and strawberry limeade, I pulled out of the Sonic drive-in. With one hand on the steering wheel, I picked up my cell phone from the empty passenger seat and hit the automatic dialing feature. After a few rings, I heard my mom’s very cheerful voice.
    “How’s my baby doing?” my mother asked.
    “I just got my eat on. Whatcha got going?” I asked.
    “Getting ready to head home and get me something for dinner this evening. I feel like maybe some baked chicken and spinach.”
    “You need to watch out for that spinach. Haven’t you been watching the news? Something about
E. coli
in the bags they put the spinach in. You can’t be getting sick before my first game.”
    “Okay, baby. I won’t eat spinach tonight. What did you eat for dinner?”
    “Sonic.”
    “What did I tell you about that stuff? Look at you warning me about what I shouldn’t be eating. That stuff isn’t any good for a top athlete. You and Delmar need to learn how to cook and leave that fast food alone.”
    “You know I can’t cook. Like mother, like son,” I said, and laughed.
    “You better be glad I’m not there. I would have to pop that smart mouth of yours,” my mother teased.
    “Oh, before I forget, I got some good news today from the sports information director,” I said.
    “What?”
    “ESPN’s
College Football Today
is coming to do a profile on me. It’s going to be about the leading candidates for the Heisman, and I’m also on the Doak Walker watch list.”
    “What is the Doak Walker watch list?” Mom asked.
    “What did you do with my mother, lady?” I teased. Usually, my mother knew everything about college football.
    “I haven’t even heard of him,” Mom said.
    “It’s the award for the best running back in the country, named after this player from SMU who played halfback in the old days. Reggie Bush won it last year. At the beginning of the year, they put out a watch list of the candidates. It just means they gonna be watching your boy’s every move,” I said.
    “Aw, baby, that’s wonderful,” my mother said proudly.
    “And that’s not all.”
    “No?”
    “Nope, they mentioned wanting to talk with you and maybe coming to your salon. Are you ready for your close-up?”
    “Baby, I don’t know about that. What would I wear? You know I haven’t ever been on television.”
    “You’ll be the most beautiful mom ever on television,” I said.
    “I hear you talking, baby. Please give me as much notice as you can. I’ll need to stop by Lennox and get something new to wear,” my mother said.
    “I’ll let you know as soon as I find out. Oh yeah, one of the girls in football marketing set up a photo shoot for a poster they’re doing to promote me. Can you believe it—me doing a photo shoot?”
    “Sure I can. My baby is very handsome. But don’t let all these outside distractions take away from school and football. Remember: Stay focused,” she said.
    “Don’t worry, Mom, I will. I’m almost back to my apartment. I’ll call you before I get ready to crash.” I paused for a few moments and then I asked, “What do girls like?”
    “What?” my mother asked. Her tone seemed startled.
    “What do girls like?” I repeated.
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean, do they really like flowers—and if so, what kind?”
    My mother had to know this day was coming, I thought, but she probably hoped it wouldn’t be this soon. She told me that flowers were nice but I had to make sure flowers didn’t send the wrong message. She explained that if I sent red roses, that meant I was in love. Red is for passion. Yellow roses are for friendship.
    “What should I do if it’s a strong like?” I asked.
    “Maybe you could send something like daisies,” my mother suggested.
    “Okay, that sounds cool. Maybe I’ll send a box of chocolates or something,” I said.
    “Well, make sure she’s not on a diet,” my mother teased.
    “No, I doubt she’s on a