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  “Still, I can’t believe you quit. You’re good enough to earn a scholarship.”

  “My dad’s been on me to quit for a month.” Darius turns the corner and Liam hurries to keep up. “He says if I put half the energy into art that I put into hoops, I’ll have plenty of scholarships.”

  “So you quit because of your dad?” Liam asks.

  “No. I quit because I hate Kloss. That’s enough.”

  “I know, but you didn’t like the prayers either, did you?”

  “They didn’t bother me.”

  “But you didn’t say them.”

  “What are you? A cop? I get ready for games my own way.”

  “Sorry.” Liam tries to think of something else to talk about. “We won by twenty-two at Plainview.”

  “Look at me.” Darius turns to Liam. “Do I look like I care?”

  Liam tightens the strap on his pack and shakes his head. Maybe the guys are right. Maybe Darius doesn’t care about anybody other than himself.

  07

  No Turnovers

  When Liam gets home, he finds a package addressed to him on the kitchen counter.

  “Who’s it from?” Mom looks up from her laptop.

  “Mackenzie.”

  “Oh.”

  Liam rips off the paper. Mom’s never been nuts about Mackenzie. She doesn’t think Mackenzie’s good enough or smart enough for her boy. Too bad. Mackenzie’s his girlfriend, not hers.

  Inside is a cardboard box covered with tape. It looks like the box was sealed to survive a hurricane. He slices through the tape with scissors.

  “Be careful.” Mom looks up but continues to type.

  Liam cuts through the last section and pulls out a purple box labeled CHOCOLATERIE MONIQUE.

  “Oh, my.” Mom gets up. “French chocolate.”

  Liam peels the wrapping off the box slowly while Mom watches. She’s practically drooling. He opens the box and takes a sniff. “Mmmm.”

  “Are you going to share?”

  “Are you going to say something nice about Mackenzie?”

  “Yes.” Mom looks closely at the chocolates. “She picks out wonderful gifts.”

  “More.” Liam holds the box in front of her and she follows him around the living room.

  “She’s a thoughtful girl.”

  “More.”

  “She’s a lovely young woman.”

  Liam laughs. “See, that wasn’t so bad. Have a chocolate.”

  Mom picks one, smells it, and takes a bite. “Delicious.”

  Liam selects a chocolate-covered hazelnut. Mackenzie must be missing him. Or maybe she’s feeling guilty about something.

  Liam pulls the laces of his Nikes tight and twists them into a double knot before the game on Tuesday. West Branch is Horizon’s main rival, so these games are always intense. The gym will be packed tonight.

  “Take care of the basketball.” Coach waves his arms like an umpire signaling safe. “These guys are twelve and two. If we want to beat them, we can’t turn the ball over.” He’s wearing a red HWJC band and a sweater vest that says HORIZON BASKETBALL.

  How much would someone have to pay Liam to wear a vest like that? A lot. Enough for a plane ticket to France.

  “Staley, will you lead us in prayer?” Coach kneels on the bench.

  Staley steps forward and Liam folds his hands. Does everybody on varsity have to do this? Is he going to have to lead prayers, too?

  “Lord, we ask You to guide us,” Staley says. “Be with us tonight as we compete the right way. Protect us as we do Your work.”

  Liam looks around. All the other guys are wearing their HWJC bands. He didn’t think it was mandatory. His own wrist looks naked in comparison.

  “Let us pray together,” Staley says.

  “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name.” Liam bows his head and waits for the Protestant ending.

  “For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. AMEN.” Everybody hits the last two syllables with extra volume.

  “Let’s go get a victory.” Coach stands.

  Liam slaps the Blazer sign as he runs into the gym. The bleachers are full and the crowd cheers loudly. He spots his folks in the same seats as last time. Mr. Craney, the high school principal, is talking to someone who’s painted his chest and face red and white. It’s Seth.

  “Beat the crap out of them,” Seth hollers.

  Craney glares at him.

  “Snot,” he says. “Knock the snot out of them.”

  West Branch comes onto the floor and their fans roar. It sounds like they have as many people here as Horizon does—not much of a home-court advantage. The West Branch players form a circle and pass two balls back and forth. They’ve got some big guys, and they’re smiling and cracking jokes. They look confident, like they can’t imagine losing to Horizon.

  On the opening tip, West Branch controls the ball, and Horizon rushes back on defense.

  “Hands up,” Coach calls.

  West Branch sends the ball into the post and back to the arc. Staley rushes out, but Collinswood, West Branch’s all-state guard, rises over him and buries the jumper.

  “Get on him,” Coach shouts.

  On offense, Horizon doesn’t get any open looks because of suffocating man-to-man defense.

  “Keep moving,” Coach hollers.

  Staley cuts off Pelke’s screen, but Collinswood sticks to him. Gund passes to Nielsen, who looks like he’s not sure what to do. Nielsen throws a high pass to Drake and the West Branch center picks it off easily.

  “No turnovers.” Coach looks down the bench. “Bergie, get in for Nielsen. Take care of the ball.”

  Collinswood drives to the hoop and draws a foul on Nielsen. Liam rips off his warm-ups, checks in, and runs onto the court.

  “Bergie, Bergie,” Seth bellows, and some of the guys from JV join in. “Bergie, Bergie.”

  “You’ve got forty-five.” Nielsen breathes hard.

  Liam lines up for the free throw and wipes his hands on the soles of his shoes.

  “Two shots.” The ref bounces the ball to Collinswood.

  Liam looks over at forty-five. He’s about the same height, but maybe twenty pounds heavier. Liam’s going to have to stay in front of him to keep him off the boards.

  Collinswood nails the free throw and steps back from the line. He makes the game look so easy. He spins the ball and knocks down the second one.

  Liam grabs the ball and starts to pass it, but at the last second he sees Collinswood pressing. He pulls back and signals for time.

  The ref blows his whistle. “Time-out, White.”

  “Smart call, Bergie.” Staley jogs with Liam to the bench.

  “Drake, you need to help out on the press. Pay attention.” Coach pulls out his whiteboard. “Nielsen, get in for Drake.”

  Drake spits out his mouth guard and walks to the end of the bench. Coach is pulling guys as soon as they make a mistake. It’s hard to get into the flow of the game that way.

  “Nielsen, come back on the press.” Coach diagrams Xs and Os on the board. “Bergie, get the ball to Nielsen.”

  Liam nods.

  “Run the offense.” Coach sets the whiteboard down and holds out his palm. “Horizon High.”

  “Team basketball,” everybody shouts.

  Liam walks onto the court prepared for the press, but West Branch takes it off and switches to a one-three-one zone. They’re not predictable. They keep switching looks and keeping Horizon off balance.

  He runs the offense and West Branch anticipates it. Forty-five grabs Liam’s shirt but keeps his hands in so he doesn’t get caught. Pelke shuffles a soft pass and Liam jumps for the layup.

  Whaap. Someone knocks the ball out of bounds. The West Branch fans go wild, but the ref blows his whistle.

  “Foul on number twenty-one, Green. Two shots.”

  Collinswood looks at the ref. “All ball.” He smiles as he walks past.

  Liam rubs his palms. Collinswood is right.
The block was clean. Where did he come from? He seemed to swoop out of the sky.

  “Don’t you know a block when you see one?” a West Branch fan howls in protest.

  “Open your eyes, you blind bat.” A heavy guy in a green sweater takes off his glasses and waves them at the ref. “That’s no foul.”

  Liam steps to the line for free throws he doesn’t deserve. The ref passes him the ball. Free points, Coach called them. Nobody guarding you. Nobody waving a hand in your face. Free points. Yeah, but Coach isn’t the one trying to knock them down with all these people screaming.

  Broke. The word from the Crosston game echoes in his mind. The first shot bounces off the side of the rim.

  “One shot, fellas.” The ref gives Liam the ball.

  Liam bounces it twice, looks up, and shoots. It hits the front of the rim, pops up, and drops in. One of two. Why can’t he relax and make two of two like he did on JV?

  Back on defense, Liam gets up on his toes and moves to cut off the passing lane. As the ball moves around, he switches between playing in front of his guy to playing behind, so West Branch can’t pass it in easily. He boxes out his guy and jumps for a rebound.

  “That’s our Bergie,” Seth’s voice rumbles.

  Late in the half, Gund signals for the last shot. As many mistakes as they’ve made, Horizon is only down by eleven. A hoop here would cut it to single digits. Gund bounces the ball at the top of the key as the clock counts down.

  Liam sets a screen on Pelke’s man. Gund passes to Pelke, who passes back to Staley. Collinswood is all over him. Staley passes to Liam, whose guy guards him tightly. He feeds Nielsen, who hesitates and passes back to Gund.

  Gund shoots a jumper as the buzzer sounds. Rejected. What a bad shot. Everybody was playing cautiously, trying to avoid a turnover rather than making a move to the basket.

  What did Darius call it? Not respecting the game.

  08

  Greater Glory

  After the game, Liam sits silently in front of his locker. Another loss. Sixty-four to fifty, and West Branch played its second string the final ten minutes. He got a lot of time, though, because Drake and Nielsen kept making mistakes and getting pulled. Three points and seven rebounds—a solid game. Collinswood even told him “good work” when they slapped hands.

  Liam unties his shoes. West Branch plays a fun style of ball. They know they’re good and they’ve got the record to prove it, but it’s more than that. Their coach lets them play. He doesn’t pull them the minute they make a mistake. On defense, they gamble for steals. On offense, they take the ball to the hoop expecting to score. They usually do.

  He pulls off his left shoe and notices dried blood on his sock. He gently feels the toe. Somebody must have stepped on his foot. He’ll deal with it when he gets home. He gets dressed and heads out into the cold. Snow is falling so hard, he can’t see the end of the parking lot.

  The Toyota whirrs in protest and then fires up. He turns on the wipers and rolls the windows down and up to clear them off. He flips on the defroster for the back. That beats getting out and brushing snow in the cold.

  The radio blasts as he drives. He focuses on the white line on the side as snow dances down in the dark. Right before J & S Auto, something’s on the pavement. He slows to avoid a deer that’s been hit. Its legs point in different directions and guts color the snow. He drops his speed and concentrates on the road.

  If only Mackenzie were here to make him feel better. What’s she doing now? Sleeping. But what did she do today? Was she with that Jean-Baptiste guy again?

  Liam pulls off the paved road onto the gravel one and then into the driveway. On nights like this, it would be nice to have a bigger garage so he could park in it, too. Snowflakes flicker against the dark sky, and he sticks out his tongue and catches one.

  Inside, Dad’s sitting on the floor, listening to Wynton Marsalis as he cuts construction paper in the shape of beetles for his kindergartners. Mom’s reading Newsweek on the couch with Dizzy curled up in her lap.

  “You played well.” Dad stops cutting.

  “Thanks.”

  “West Branch is impressive. Collinswood controls the game at both ends of the floor.”

  Liam remembers the block. “Yeah, he’s good.”

  “We ate earlier,” Mom says. “There’s lasagna left. And apple pie.”

  “I’ll shower first.”

  Liam checks his e-mail. Plenty of spam: stock tips, security alerts, and the all-time, best ever, money back guarantee for increasing sperm quantity. But nothing from Mackenzie.

  He pulls off his bloody sock. The nail on his fourth toe has cut into the skin of the middle one. He turns the shower to hot and gets in. The water pounds his back. He doesn’t move as his muscles soak up the heat, and he’s transported past thought to basic physical sensation: sore, hungry, exhausted. His bloody toe stings as soap washes over it.

  He’s in the shower so long, the room steams up and the moist air loosens his lungs. He hacks up a greenie and spits it in the toilet. When he’s finished, he dries himself with a fluffy towel, clips the toenail, and wraps a Band-Aid on it. Now he’s starving.

  Mom gives him a glass of water and presses the reheat button on the microwave. “How do you feel?”

  “Okay.”

  “How come Coach Kloss is so critical?” She sits down across the counter from him.

  “What do you mean?” Liam takes a long drink.

  “The West Branch coach encourages his players calmly and explains things. He acts like a teacher. Coach Kloss shouts and gets angry.”

  “He doesn’t like to lose. None of us do.” Liam finishes his glass of water. One of the drawbacks of being an only child is there’s no one else for Mom to cross-examine.

  “Coach G wasn’t like that.”

  “Mom, that was JV.”

  “So?” The microwave dings and she gets the plate of lasagna and corn.

  “Varsity’s different, Kate.” Dad punches a hole in a beetle book and attaches a fastener. “Coach Kloss does a good job. He’s been coaching this way for a long time.”

  Liam dives into his lasagna.

  Mom picks up her magazine. “That doesn’t mean he can’t change.”

  At his locker, Liam flips through his notebook, looking for his English homework. He’s sure he did it. Where is it?

  “Hi, Liam.” Leah is half hidden behind a huge canvas. Darius holds the other end and Iris Cleary carries their backpacks.

  “Hey.”

  “Too bad about West Branch,” she says. “Collinswood is tough, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah. Do you know him?”

  “I played with him in the summer. He’s a good guy.”

  “How’d you do last night?”

  “We won by twenty-six. Iris dominated inside when Jessica twisted her ankle.”

  Liam turns to Iris. She’s tall and pretty with blue eyes and short blond hair. “Way to go.”

  “Thanks.” She smiles shyly.

  “Do you mind?” Darius says. “I don’t want to hold this all day.”

  “Sorry.” Liam walks to the other side. “What is it?”

  “A new painting of Leah’s,” Iris says. “I helped her with it, and we’re going to hang it in the library.”

  Swirls of purple and blue blend on a background of black. “I like it. What’s it called?”

  “Missing Shea,” Iris says as she follows Leah and Darius. The painting moves down the hall like a sailboat cutting across a lake.

  Liam watches Iris’s blond hair in the crowd. She’s tall, taller than Darius. He wishes he didn’t have English. Hanging a painting with them sounds like more fun than being bored by Mrs. Stabenow.

  Thursday morning, Liam rubs his freshly shaved cheek as he drives down Drake’s street. He promised he’d be here, but at this hour he’d much rather be back in bed. Cars line both sides of the street, but Liam finds a spot behind Pelke’s Durango. He and Pelke slam their doors at the same time.

  “Do you always
come to these HAF meetings?” Liam jams his keys in his pocket.

  “Yeah. It’s really important to Coach Kloss.”

  “So is it kind of like church or something?” Liam gets a whiff of Pelke’s strong cologne.

  “I don’t know,” Pelke says. “I don’t go to church. I’m here because I want to keep starting.”

  Liam kicks a chunk of ice off his wheel well. “That’s pretty cynical.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s smart. It’s insurance.”

  Seth’s Silverado speeds around the corner. Seth skids on some ice, straightens it out, and crunches into a spot down the street.

  “I’ll wait for him,” Liam says.

  “See you inside.” Pelke hurries toward the big house.

  “Bergie.” Seth bounds out of his truck.

  “I didn’t know you’d be here.” Liam dances from one foot to another trying to stay warm.

  “Drake invited me.” Seth’s wearing his letter jacket unzipped.

  Liam’s breath forms small clouds. “Let’s get inside. I’m freezing.”

  “You finally made it.” Drake greets them in the entryway. He extends his hand and Liam shakes it.

  Liam unzips his coat and glances at the sparkling chandelier above their heads. He hears the hum of voices and girls giggling in the kitchen.

  “Coats down there.” Drake wears a tan shirt that says GREATER GLORY on the pocket. “Food in the dining room.”

  Liam follows Seth downstairs to a huge room dominated by a TV the size of a movie screen.

  “Wow,” Seth whispers. “I didn’t realize there was so much money in shoes.”

  Liam drops his coat onto the long leather couch. DVD cases line the wall behind it. “There must be a million movies here.” He scans the titles.

  Seth pulls on the sleeves of his long-sleeve T-shirt. “Let’s see what they have to eat.”

  The kitchen and dining room are crowded, so Liam follows Seth, who bulldozes a path to the table. Breads, muffins, and bagels sit on silver trays.

  “Is Drake on some kind of health kick?” Seth makes a face like he’s sick. “I need a doughnut.”