I gave Trent's front door a good firm rap. For a long time there was no response. Then a light went on, and I heard footsteps on the stairs. The door opened. He didn't say anything; he just looked. I held the basketball in front of me. "You want to shoot some?"
His head tilted suspiciously. "What's this all about?"
"It's not about anything," I replied. "Just hoops."
He looked at me for what seemed like forever, then shrugged. "Sure, why not?"
We played late into the night, one-on-one basketball, hard to the hoop, no harm—no foul. We didn't stop until Mr. Shubert, who lives in the house behind us, opened his sliding porch door and yelled: "Guys, it's late. Give it a rest."
Trent came inside with me and sat at the kitchen table. I got a liter of Pepsi from the refrigerator and two glasses from the cupboard. "We had a pretty good practice today," I said, slipping into the chair across from him. "You going to be there tomorrow?"
He laughed. "What do you think? You think they want me back at school, back at practice?"
I poured the Pepsi into the glasses. "Since when did Trent Dawson ever care what other people want or think?"
He shot me a look. "I don't care."
I ate a handful of peanuts from a bowl on the kitchen table. "So surprise everybody. Go to school tomorrow. Go to practice. Later on you could come here if you want. We could knock off our homework, then shoot around just the way we did over Christmas."
A mocking smile came to his lips. "You know, I've talked to a few counselors over the years. More than a few, in fact. I know this little game you're playing. I know it inside and out."
"There's no game," I insisted. "You can't just sit in your house waiting for Zack to call. It could be months, right? You'll die of boredom. So why not play basketball until he does?"
He sat back in his chair and looked at me, trying to make me look away. But I didn't. I kept my eyes right on his. At last he picked up his Pepsi and drank until it was gone. "Okay," he said, standing. "Until I hear from Zack, I'll go to your school and I'll play on your basketball team and I'll shoot around with you at night. But I'm doing this for me—not for you or anybody else—and I'm doing it for as long as I want, and not a second longer. You got it?"
I swallowed. "Yeah, I got it."
He nodded, and then he was out the door.