Jessica dribbled to her left, making sure to avoid the potted plants that lined the driveway, and announced, “Turnaround bank shot.”

Cody snorted.

“Do I look worried?” he said. “That shot’s a piece of cake. In fact, I practically invented it.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. With her back to the basket, she spun to her right and put up a twelve-foot jumper that kissed lightly off the backboard and dropped through the rim.

Now she was dancing wildly with her hands thrust triumphantly in the air, shouting, “You know the problem with this game? It’s too easy for me! I need to play someone with way more game than you’ve got, Parker.”

Cody shook his head in mock disgust and retrieved the basketball. It was a glorious Saturday afternoon, the sky so blue it hurt his eyes. But what was really hurting him now was that he was about to lose at H-O-R-S-E to Jessica again. Even worse, he was getting out–trash-talked too.

“You already know I’m a baseball superstar—on an undefeated team, I might add,” he said, dribbling out to take the shot. “Now you’ll see I’m destined for the NBA too.”

He pivoted to his right, leaped, and released the ball in textbook fashion, high off his fingertips. Then he watched in horror as it missed the backboard completely and bounced harmlessly into the hedge as Jessica cackled.

“Yeah, you’re destined for the NBA,” she said. “Except in your case, it stands for Nothing But Air. That’s your third loss this week.”

Cody pretended to lurch over to the lawn and collapse in sorrow. Jessica grinned and ran inside, returning with two cold bottles of water.

“That was some game last night,” she said, plopping down next to him. “But what do you think will to happen to Dante? That’s all anyone’s talking about.”

“Hard to tell,” Cody said. “But he’s in big trouble, even if what he says is true, that his brothers did all the stealing.”

“Do you believe him?” Jessica asked.

Cody shrugged and took a sip of water.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “The Rottweiler Twins were definitely running the show, but he was an accessory at least. My dad talked to the county police. They think when I saw them selling stuff out of the Jeep, Dante’s brothers told him to plant that cell phone on me. It was a pretty stupid move. But my dad says that’s how most bad guys get tripped up. They do something stupid.”

Jessica shook her head softly and let out a low whistle.

“I felt terrible for you that day when the phone popped out of your binder,” she said. “Everyone in school was whispering about it.”

Cody wore a pained expression and rubbed the cool bottle across his sweaty forehead.

“Mr. Stubbins says they’re going to make an announcement and run an article in the school paper saying I had nothing to do with the thefts,” he said.

Jessica reached over and punched him playfully on the shoulder.

“First the evening news, then the front page. Such a media star.”

Cody grinned and pretended to pose for the TV cameras, just as he had the night before, the best night of his life.

“But here’s what I really want to know,” Jessica said. “How in the world did you get Coach Mike to eavesdrop when you confronted Dante?”

“Easy,” Cody said. “I just called and explained my plan. I knew Mr. Stubbins would never believe a kid. Coach Mike agreed to help right away. He kept saying, ‘Chief, you’re no thief. I’ve been on this earth long enough to be a pretty good judge of character. And you’re no thief.’”

Jessica nodded. “What a great guy. Saved your butt, that’s for sure.”

“Yep,” Cody said. “So did the guys—Willie, Connor, and Jordy. They showed up just in time.”

“Before Dante could pound you like…”

“…a bad piece of meat,” they said together, then cracked up.

“For a kid who’s only been here a few months,” Jessica said, “you sure have great friends.”

“And you’re one of them,” Cody said, “Karate Girl.”

“Aw, you say that to all the girls,” Jessica said with a smile.

“Only girls who can beat my butt!” Cody said, jumping up quickly to avoid another punch.

He ran over to the driveway and picked up the basketball. “But now it’s time for me to beat yours!”

He dribbled smoothly between his legs and launched into a courtside announcer’s play-by-play: “Tie score, five seconds left…Parker has the ball in the corner…He spins and puts up a twenty-footer with a defender draped all over him…Swish!”

Jessica rolled her eyes and rose to her feet. She drained the last of her water bottle, retrieved the ball, and put up a long jump shot from the top of the key.

“Keep dreaming, Wisconsin Boy,” she said. “That’s what you do best.”