DAD HEATS UP FROZEN PIZZA FOR US and Pop peppers us with questions about the Pennsville game plan.

“They’re gonna double Terrell, right?” Dad says.

“Yep,” I say.

“Finley should get a lot of shots,” Boy21 says.

“Score some points for the Irish!” Pop says.

“For Bellmont,” Dad says. “You think you’ll get into the game, Russ?”

“Don’t know.”

“You okay, Finley?” Pop says. “You haven’t touched your slice.”

Dad gives me a look.

I just shrug.

Boy21 and I do all our homework up in my room, but we don’t really work together. He does his at my desk and I do mine on my bed for about an hour before we put our jackets on and go out onto the roof.

It’s not really that cold out for winter. In the distance a police siren is whining, but it’s a pretty peaceful night otherwise, and I always enjoy being on the roof, getting a different perspective. I start to zone out a little—in a good way.

After ten minutes or so of silence, Russ says, “If I get into the game tomorrow, would you mind if I used my extraterrestrial powers?”

I’m not really in the mood for outer-space talk. “The only way you’re getting in the game is if I can’t hit any shots.”

“You’ll hit your shots.”

“Well, then it’s a nonissue, right?”

“Guess so.”

I look up and see part of the moon sticking out from behind a cloud.

“I just want to know what I should do if I get in the game,” Russ says. “Coach says he’s going to give me some quality minutes whether I want them or not. You want to win the championship, so I figure it’s best for me to use my extraterrestrial powers to help you beat Pennsville if I get the chance. I used telepathy to check with my dad up in outer space and he says it’s okay if I expose myself a little bit, because he’s coming soon to get me anyway.”

I’m tired of Boy21’s outer-space fantasies. I’m tired of Coach pressuring me. I’m worried about my inability to hit a jump shot. And so I don’t say anything in response. Silence has always been my default mode—my best defense against the rest of the world.

When Boy21’s grandfather pulls up, I’m grateful.

“See you tomorrow,” Russ says as he climbs back into my bedroom.

I nod, but I don’t leave the roof.

I hear Boy21 say good-bye to Pop and Dad, and then I watch him get into Mr. Allen’s Cadillac below.

As the taillights get smaller and smaller, I try to visualize myself hitting shot after shot, but I keep missing open jumpers, even in my mind.