“This back-and-forth . . . it’s no good,” Ms. Rait started. “I can’t teach unless I have a plan. I execute the plan. I stick to the plan. You’re in, then you’re out, now you’re suddenly in again.” Ms. Rait threw her hands up in the air. “This is really it, folks. I won’t go back a third time.”

Danny’s mom stared at Ms. Rait. The silence became uncomfortable.

Danny’s mom cleared her throat. “So you’ll do it? You’ll teach Danny to read?”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

Danny’s mom popped out of her seat. She was beside the desk clasping one of Ms. Rait’s hands in two of her own. “I wasn’t sure what you were saying, but Ms. Rait, you won’t regret this. Danny is going to be the best student you ever had. I mean the best at being the hardest working. I know he has a lot to learn, but he will. Oh, he will.”

Danny’s mom pumped the teacher’s hand until Ms. Rait blushed. “All right. Good. Can you get to my house around five thirty?”

“He’ll go straight from practice,” Danny’s mom said.

“Practice?” Ms. Rait said. “He’s hurt.”

“Injured guys have to watch,” Danny muttered.

“Oh. Well, I’ll be happy to take him home afterward,” Ms. Rait said.

Danny’s mom held up her hand. “No such thing. I’ll get him when you’re done. You’re doing more than enough. Thank you. Danny, thank Ms. Rait.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Danny kept his head and voice low from embarrassment.

“I’ll see you in class, Danny.”

They left and walked back through the school toward the front offices.

“That went well.” His mom mussed the top of his hair.

“We’ll see.” He was thinking about Mr. Crenshaw. He saw a red plastic fire alarm on the wall and considered pulling it to avoid the meeting. He thought that might be some kind of a crime, though, and wondered if, when you pulled the handle, it sprayed invisible ink on your hand that the police could see.

Before he could come up with a better plan, his mom knocked on the counselor’s door. Mr. Crenshaw opened the door to greet them, then showed them to the couch before he pulled up a chair facing them. He pointed at the crutches. “I heard you hurt your leg.”

“Foot.” Danny raised his foot slightly.

“Sorry, foot. But I heard you’ll be back for the big game.”

“That’s the plan.” Danny fell silent.

Mr. Crenshaw turned his attention to Danny’s mom. “How are you today?”

She sat on the edge of the couch with her hands folded in her lap. “Well, we had a very nice meeting with Ms. Rait, so, so far, so good.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I’m also glad you came to see me. I like Danny a lot. He’s a great kid.”

“Yes. He is. I know he’s our only child, but I can’t imagine a better one.”

“That’s so nice to hear.” Mr. Crenshaw sounded for real, but all this cheerleading made Danny uncomfortable because he felt something else was just around the bend.

“But . . . well, sometimes, lately, he isn’t quite himself,” Danny’s mom said.

“Can you tell me what you mean?” The counselor acted like he knew nothing, which annoyed Danny.

“Well, he’s here in the first place because he fought with the Markle boy.” His mom shrugged as if pounding some kid’s face in was a standard way to start out the school year. “But there’s been things with me, too. Yelling. Slamming doors. He broke a lamp. It’s just not like him.”

Mr. Crenshaw raised an eyebrow. “Danny?”

Danny shrugged and looked at his crutches.

“Is your mom right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Danny looked at the counselor’s kind face. There was no judgment in it, and unlike most adults, Danny didn’t feel like he had to answer a certain way to keep him happy.

Danny shook his head.

Mr. Crenshaw nodded that it was fine. He turned to Danny’s mom. “I don’t want to push him.”

“How can he get better if you don’t push him?” Danny’s mom sounded a bit impatient.

“Mrs. Owens, Danny has had a lot of things happen to him recently.” Mr. Crenshaw spoke with soft kindness. “When people experience traumatic events, their heart can kind of freeze, to protect itself, make it hard. That can—and usually does—change how a person acts.”

He paused to see if Danny’s mom was following him. She patted Danny’s knee.

“Now, you love him and you’d like to see him back to the way he was before his heart froze, so to speak. And my job is to help.” Mr. Crenshaw leaned forward in his chair. “But I don’t want to use a hammer and chisel, because when you break ice that way, you can break what’s inside it as well. Think of me as a heat lamp. I want to melt the ice slowly, and when it’s safe to do so, Danny will tell us what’s wrong. We just have to be here for him, listening and warming him and keeping him as safe as we can. Does this make sense?”

“That’s all you want me to do?” she asked. “Just be there? No coaching?”

“Right. Just be there. It seems like you’ve been very understanding so far. Danny’s lucky to have a mom like you.”

“Oh—” She waved him off.

“It’s true. Many parents aren’t as understanding,” Mr. Crenshaw said.

“Well.” His mom looked at her finger and twisted her wedding ring, then stood up and shook Mr. Crenshaw’s hand. “Thank you.”

Danny spent the day thinking about his frozen heart when he wasn’t thinking about schoolwork. Even on crutches he got to Ms. Rait’s class with time to spare and sat down behind Janey. She didn’t speak to him, but she didn’t give him a nasty look either, so he started things off.

He sighed loudly. “Well, you can say ‘I told you so.’”

She turned around with a frustrated look. “That’s not what I wanted to say. You didn’t call me all weekend.”

He smiled. “Phone works both ways, you know.”

She hung her head for a moment. “I thought you were already mad, then Cupcake told me about your foot and I figured I was the last person you wanted to hear from.”

The bell rang and they had to catch up in the hallway and at lunch. By the end of the day, things were back to normal between them, and that felt good to Danny. He was actually feeling upbeat as he crutched into the locker room. He used the bathroom, and since he was in no hurry because he couldn’t practice, he was fixing his hair in the mirror after washing his hands when someone spoke behind him.

“Hey. Owens.”

Danny turned and was surprised to see Markle standing there with all his gear on minus his helmet.

“Guess what?” It was Markle’s nasty tone that seemed so out of place. It was as if they hadn’t buried the hatchet less than a week ago.

“What?” Danny asked automatically.

“You hurt your little footy?”

“It’s a stress fracture.” Danny scowled.

“Yeah, whatever.” Markle glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were alone before he said, “Just know this: you might as well not even worry about coming back.”

“What are you talking about? Why?”

“Because we don’t need you. We’ve got a new running back now.” Markle smiled that arrogant, mean smile Danny thought he’d seen the last of. “Me.”