Seconds Away

CHAPTER 30

Half an hour after I had a gun pointed at me, I was in the locker room getting changed to try out with varsity. I could hardly wait. Now more than ever, I needed the sweet escape I only found on the basketball court. As I laced up my high-tops, my stomach started to do flips.

I was nervous.

It wasn’t as though I had any friends on the court yesterday, but I knew these guys on varsity actively hated me. From the other side of the locker room I could hear a bunch of guys, including Troy and Buck, laughing. The noise sounded alien in my ears. Would I ever be a part of that? Would I ever be welcomed?

It was hard to imagine.

I finished dressing and took a deep breath. To stall, I texted Rachel and again made sure she was okay. She said she was fine and wished me luck at the tryouts. I was about to put away my phone when it buzzed again. I figured that it was one more text from Rachel, but I was wrong. It was Ema saying good luck.

I smiled. Thanks. Then I added: Guess what?

Ema: what?

Me: The old Nazi photograph. It was Photoshopped. That wasn’t the butcher.

Ema: no way!

A whistle sounded in the distance. I quickly explained via text, then I put away the phone. It was time to head out on the court. When I opened up the door to the gym, it was like one of those scenes in a movie when the guy walks into a bar and everything goes quiet. All balls stopped bouncing. No one took a shot. I felt as if all eyes were on me. My face turned red.

With my head down, I jogged toward the free basket in the corner.

The balls started bouncing again, and shots started clanking off the rim. This was what I’d always longed for-to be part of a school team-and I don’t think I’d ever felt so out of place. I took a few shots, got my own rebounds, took a few more. I had to wonder how Troy and Buck were reacting to my being there. I risked a glance toward them.

Troy was grinning at me in a way I didn’t like.

“Well, that’s weird,” someone behind me said.

I spun toward the voice. It was Brandon Foley, team captain. There weren’t many people in this school I had to look up to, but Brandon, at six foot eight, was one of them.

“What’s that?” I said.

“Troy looks happy,” Brandon said. “I figured he’d be furious to see you here.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Brandon stuck his hand out. “I’m Brandon Foley.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m Mickey Bolitar.”

“Welcome.”

“Thanks.”

“Troy isn’t so bad.”

I figured that once again it would be best not to reply. Brandon took a shot. It swished through the basket, so I threw the ball back to him. We got into a nice rhythm and kept shooting. We didn’t talk much. We didn’t have to.

“Mickey?”

It was Coach Stashower.

“Coach Grady wants to see you in his office.”

He vanished. I looked at Brandon. Brandon shrugged. “Coach probably wants to introduce you to the team or something.”

“Yeah,” I said, hoping he was right. “Thanks for shooting around with me.”

“No problem.”

As I left the court, I saw Troy out of the corner of my eye. The grin looked even bigger.

I hurried to Coach Grady’s office.

“You wanted to see me, Coach?”

“Yes, Mickey, come in and close the door. Have a seat.”

I did as he asked. Coach Grady was wearing gray sweatpants and a polo shirt with the Kasselton Camel mascot as a logo. For a few moments, he said nothing. He had his head down, his eyes on the desk.

“Have you read this, Mickey?”

“Read what, Coach?”

With a heavy sigh, Coach Grady rose from his chair. He walked over to me and handed me the Kasselton High School student manual. I looked at it and then up at him.

“Have you read it?” he asked again.

“I’ve skimmed it, I guess.”

He moved back behind his desk and sat down. “How about the part on conduct?”

“I think so.”

“Last year, two seniors on the football team were caught drinking beers by the field. They were suspended for six games. One kid on the hockey team got into a fight at a movie theater-off school grounds. It didn’t matter. He was thrown off the team. We have a zero-tolerance policy. Do you understand?”

I nodded numbly. I thought about Troy’s grin. I thought that maybe now I understood its meaning.

“You were arrested last night, weren’t you, Mickey?”

“But I didn’t do it.”

“This isn’t a court of law. Those boys who got caught drinking-they weren’t put on trial. All charges were dropped on the hockey player who got in the fight. It didn’t matter. You understand that, right?”

“But the arrest was all a misunderstanding.”

“And your little tussle with Troy Taylor last week?”

I felt my heart sink. “We talked about that already,” I said, hearing the panic in my own voice.

“Correct, and I was able to give you the benefit of the doubt. But I spoke to Chief Taylor today. He told me that in the past week you’ve been involved in several incidents. He said you drove a car when you aren’t old enough to have a license. He said you used a fake ID to get into a club. Any of these things alone would get you thrown off the team.”

I felt the panic in my chest. “Please, Coach Grady, I can explain it all.”

“Did you do those things,” Coach Grady asked, “or is Chief Taylor lying?”

“It’s not that simple,” I said.

“I’m sorry, Mickey, but my hands are tied here.”

“Coach.” I could hear the begging in my voice. “Please don’t-”

“You’re off the team.”

I swallowed. “For how long?”

“For the season, son. I’m sorry.”