CHAPTER 3
Logan walked really slowly on the way home from school that day. His body was sore from practice, but mainly he was feeling down.
Even though his family’s house wasn’t far from the school, it took him almost an hour to get home.
“Logan!” his mother called when he walked in. “You’re so late!”
She came out of the kitchen. She was still in her suit from work, but she was also wearing oven mitts on both hands.
Logan’s mom was a tiny woman, not more than five feet tall, and she looked like a strong breeze would knock her over. When she and Logan’s dad hugged or danced, Logan always thought she might get crushed.
“Sorry, Mom,” Logan said. He followed her back into the kitchen.
His dad was waiting at the table. “Hi, Dad. Sorry I’m late,” said Logan.
His dad shrugged his big shoulders. “You’re just in time for supper,” he said, “so no harm done.”
Logan sat down and watched as his mom put a meatloaf on the table.
The meatloaf wasn’t homemade. It was in an aluminum foil pan.
“Frozen meatloaf, huh?” Logan asked.
His dad chuckled and started slicing the meatloaf. “It’s great,” he said. “I lived on this frozen meatloaf in college.”
The meatloaf turned out to be not too bad. Soon, Logan was stuffed full.
“Any plans tonight?” Dad asked as Logan cleared the table.
Logan shook his head. “Nope. I’m just going to do my homework and hang out here, I guess,” he said. Then he headed downstairs.
He sat down at the computer desk and switched it on. He was hoping he’d have an email back from his friend Scotty, and sure enough, he did.
Hey, Logan!
What’s up? Not much is new here. Wish you were still around to hang out with.
So you probably heard by now that the Cyclones are playing your team on Friday. They changed the schedule!
How cool is that? I thought we weren’t going to get a chance to play any ball together this year, but it looks like we will after all.
I’m pretty excited. See you on Friday afternoon!
Scotty
Logan clicked “reply,” but then just stared at the blank email. What could he say? He wasn’t excited about the game at all. In fact, it was tearing him apart.
So, instead of typing anything, he just closed the blank email and flicked off the monitor. Then he dropped onto the couch and started flipping through the TV channels again.