With two games left, Coach works us pretty hard. But we work ourselves hard too.
The Friday before our Greenwood game is hot and humid. By the time we’re through, my muscles feel like toasted marshmallows. Luka texts me when I’m just about to ooze home.
want a ride?
yes!!! sooo tired
“Thanks, Luka!” I close the door and sink into the passenger seat. “Ahhh. Air-conditioning!”
“So, Jack Attack. Big weekend?”
“Nope. Just my game Sunday.”
“You’re not going to the Calamity Crossing concert tomorrow?”
“Nope.”
“I thought you were their biggest fan.” He gestures in my direction. “The T-shirt, the ringtone, the tunes…”
I scrunch up my face. “Everything but the tickets.”
“But I heard it’s the best concert of the year.”
“Then you heard how fast it sold out.”
“So. I didn’t get tickets either.” He looks over his shades at me. “But I got something better.”
“Better?” I sit up straight. “What’s better than tickets?”
“Backstage passes.”
“To Calamity Crossing?” My voice comes out in a squeak.
“No, Justin Bieber. Want to go?”
“Do I—” I fall back in my seat. Backstage. With Calamity Crossing. No one will ever believe this.
Then I remember the Greenwood game. And my bank-account balance.
“I can’t afford that.” I look at my hands and swallow. “I mean, I’d love to, but I’m broke. I’ll be okay by the end of the month, and I’ve got $500 on tomorrow’s game, but—”
“Did I ask for money? No. It’s a gift.” He slants a look at me. “And don’t worry about how much you owe. We’ll work something out.”
Work something out? I squirm in my seat. What does that mean?
“Anyway, I didn’t pay for the passes.”
“Then how…” It comes to me. “You know somebody.”
He points his finger pistol at me and gives his half grin. “Exactly. So we’re on?”
I bite my lip. “Don’t laugh, but I can’t stay out too late. I have a big game the next day.”
He doesn’t laugh, but his grin twitches. “No problem. I’ll drive.”
“Then count me in. Thanks, Luka!”
I come into the house ready to burst. I’m going to meet Calamity Crossing! Wait until Danny hears. I’ll have to text him.
Alex is at the kitchen table. He looks up as I come in. Like Mom when she wants to talk about something but doesn’t know how to start.
“Hey.” I give him a wary look and brace myself for questions.
“Dad called,” he says.
Sounds safe. No questions yet.
“He got us Lancers tickets for tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow?” I shake my head. “Sorry. Can’t go.”
He looks relieved and disappointed at the same time. “I didn’t know you had plans.”
“I’m going to Calamity Crossing.”
He gives me a hard look. “How’d you get tickets?”
I shrug. “Luka got backstage passes.”
“Luka.” And the question marks are back. Before I can escape, he says, “You see a lot of Luka.”
“So what?”
“He keeps giving you stuff. A fancy new phone. Lancer tickets. Now backstage passes. Why? Who is this guy?”
Too many good questions. Too many bad answers. Nothing I can tell Captain America.
I force a casual answer. “Just a guy. My friend.”
Alex shakes his head. “No one throws around money like that.”
I go over to the fridge and look inside. “I told you. He’s got rich parents.”
“I know. And a hot car. And he drives you around like a chauffeur.”
I pour a glass of milk and grab an apple. “I’d offer you a ride, but it’s a two-seater.”
“I’m not asking for a ride!” Alex slams his hands on the table. He tries again, searching for his normal voice. “What I’m saying is…I’ve never met him. No one’s met him.”
“Dad has.” Uh-oh. That was stupid.
He looks straight at me. “What’s going on, Jack?”
He has the nerve to ask what’s going on? Seriously?
“I’ll tell you.” I count off the reasons on my fingers, one at a time. “One. I don’t like your new BFF. Two. You’re jealous. Three. None of your business. Get over it.”
“This is all my fault?”
I hear Mom’s key in the front door. No way am I playing tag-team Twenty Questions. I leave my snack on the counter and take the stairs two at a time.
Alex comes up a little later. He knocks on our bedroom door. The lights are off, and I’m pretending to sleep. He comes in anyway. “Sorry, bro,” he says quietly. “I’m just worried about you.”
I lie very still. Eventually, Alex gets up and goes downstairs again.
Why did I tell him Dad knows Luka? Why?
I take off early the next morning, leaving a note for Mom.
Working today. At a concert tonight. Back late.
I’ll kill the day at the training center. Someone always needs a hand. I’ll duck back home to change and shower once Alex leaves for the game.
Anything to avoid another conversation with Sherlock Holmes.
I cut straight across the park at a jog. Why did I even open my mouth? What if Alex grills Dad at the game? Argh! I’m so stupid!
Don’t think. Just run.
A runner zips by, and I match his pace.
At least Alex won’t meet Luka. He’ll be at the concert with me.
But Dad could still tell him Luka’s a bookie.
If Alex finds out, I’m dead. He’ll tell Mom. Mom will blame Dad.
They’ll find out I’m gambling. Then I’ll really be in trouble.
I speed up and start the circuit.
But how would they find out? Luka won’t tell them. I sure won’t. Anyway, I’m winning more than I’m losing. I’ll just say Luka’s my friend. He is, isn’t he?
Maybe Alex will forget about it…
Yeah. And maybe Manchester United will move to Canada.
I pound up the last long hill to the training center. It’s all downhill from here.