The store catered to nearly every sport, but only had one copy of everything. They must have a lot in the back, I thought, as I approached the desk. To my surprise, a young man around my age was working there. I thought it would be some older guy, honestly.
“Hi, I’m Grant. What can I help you with today?”
“I’m looking to buy a full football outfit. I’m from Deere State.”
“You mean uniform. And yes, your coach has a list of names already sent over. I just need yours.” Grant stifled a laugh as I told him my long and stuffy British name, and went in the back to grab the gear. When he returned, I saw the number was 69 on my shirt, or jersey, as Grant called it. How crass, but I bet during rehearsal I can change it out for something less obscene. The cost was much lower than I expected, and I was able to pay in cash. I did have one question, though.
“How’d you know what size I wear? I never told you.”
“Oh, I just know,” Grant replied, with a wink. I hoped he wasn’t flirting with me, as I was never able to figure out when people were doing that. I lugged everything back to my car and put it in the trunk.