CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

I walked back to the cabin in the darkness. Halfway there, I stared down the road and saw a man running toward me. The motion was Dee’s. He approached, breathing heavy, and he’d been crying. Still was. He had lost all control of his emotions. He screamed in anger. “They cut me.”

“Wait. What? Who cut you?”

“Coach.”

“Why?”

“Some guys with badges showed up, told him they’ve got me on video stealing food, and now they’ve got the food as evidence. Told my coach they intend to charge me with grand theft unless I tell them what really happened.”

He walked in circles around me as the pieces fell into place. Clever, I thought to myself. Very clever. “And they want you to tell them I stole it.”

He continued, “That’s just for starters. They want me to tell them the nature of our relationship. Like, how well I know you. How much time we’ve spent together. Have you ever put your hands on me. They said they had an unconfirmed rumor that we’d been working out. Every day.” He threw down his hands. “Who told them that?”

“What else?”

He wouldn’t look at me.

“Dee. What else?”

“They said you’d be back in jail by tomorrow night. Prison by the middle of next week.”

I let out a deep breath. I had always thought that I might lose this chess game. I just didn’t think it’d happen this soon. I said, “Dee, go home. There’s something I need to do.”

He wasn’t really looking at me or waiting for an answer. He was crying out in pain. “What on earth can you possibly do?”

“Dee?”

He stomped in a circle around me.

I put my hands on his shoulders. “Dee?”

He finally stopped and looked at me. He was cracking from the inside out. “I want you to do one more thing for me.”

He began crying. “Man—” The reality of our summer and my life was hitting him full force. “You’re going back to prison!”

His shoulders shook when I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him. I stood there, just hugging him. The sobs shook his shoulders. I whispered, “I’ve always been going back to prison.”

He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed. A bear hug. Afraid to let go. “Why! Why’d you do this?”

“I need you to do me one more favor.”

Exasperated, he spoke. “What?”

“Get some rest. I’ve got a few things to do and I’ll be in touch.”

“You want me to sleep? What are you talking about?”

“Dee, I need you to do the one thing that no one wants to do—I need you to trust me.” He looked at me. Searching for hope. “Can you do that? Will you, please?”

He wiped his face on his shirt sleeve and nodded.

I patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll be in touch. And don’t make any plans for tomorrow evening.”

“I’ve got to work. Still have my job at school.”

“Call in sick. And answer your phone if it rings, even if you don’t know the number. It’s probably me.”

He wanted to ask me a mountain of questions. “Not now. It’ll make sense tomorrow.”

He nodded, turned, and disappeared through the woods.

When I returned to my cabin, there was a manila envelope sitting on my front steps. A lone DVD lay inside it. No note. It didn’t need one. I slid the disc into the player and watched a well-edited video of every workout I’d had with Dee. Morning. Evening. Whenever I put a hand on him, the video played through it once, then sliced back in a slow-motion version. Particular attention had been paid to any time I patted him on the butt. Words scrolled up from the bottom of the screen. “This is an edited version of over seventy hours of video. Both the edited and the unedited versions have been sent to the Court.”

The message was clear.

When I walked in, a similar-looking manila envelope and DVD lay on Wood’s desk. Wood was digging through a stack of law books, and his face was painted in worry. “Matty—” He began stuttering. “I think she’s got you by the—”

I cut him off. “Can I use your phone?”

He slid it across the table without looking at me.

“What’s Roddy’s cell number?”

He glanced up, irritated. “What?”

I spoke slowly to make sure he understood me. I had a feeling his head was spinning. “What is Roderick’s cell number?”

He dug through a book on his desk, and I dialed the number. I put him on speakerphone, and Roddy answered after the first ring. His voice betrayed his smile. “I wondered when you might be calling me.”

“I need a favor.”

“Been waiting for you to ask me that.”

While I told him what I wanted, Wood looked at me like I’d gone loco. And by the time I’d finished the call, he was speechless and shaking his head. “You’ve lost your mind.”

I sat on his desk and crossed my hands. “You still want to be my agent?”

He shook his head. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Good, then I need you to do a few things.” When I finished telling him, he sat at his desk and sunk his head in his hands. “Rocket, I can’t do that for you. To you.”

“Wood, look at me.”

He didn’t look up.

“Dunwoody?”

He looked up.

“I don’t have time to argue with you.”

“I’m not arguing. I’m telling you, emphatically, no.”

I leaned in closer. My face a foot from his. “Are you my center?”

He looked away. “Don’t do that.”

My voice rose. “Are you my center?”

No answer.

“Wood, I have one play. The play clock is ticking. Do you want to sit this one out?”

A long pause. He stood and held eye contact. He blinked and pushed a single tear out of his eye, which trailed down his cheek and spilled onto his shirt. I’d seen blood do the same thing. His voice cracked when he spoke. “I’m your center.”

I walked to the door. “Then call the huddle.”