“We have our work cut out for us,” Coach Grady said. “As most of you know by now, Troy has been suspended from the team. He has the right to appeal, which he has taken, but in the meantime he will not be allowed to practice or play with the team. Troy had been our co-captain. During his absence, which will last the entire season if it’s not overturned on appeal—and frankly I don’t know anyone who has ever won an appeal—Brandon will serve as our solo captain.”
All eyes turned to Brandon. Brandon kept his head up, his face set.
“On top of that, Buck’s family has decided that he would be better off living with his mother, so he won’t be with us for the season. That means two seniors, both starters and leaders on last year’s team, won’t be playing with us this season. I don’t think I have to tell you what a big blow this is for our program.”
Coach Grady adjusted the cap on his head and let loose a long sigh. “But victory often comes out of adversity. We can give up, or we can rise to the challenge. For many of you, there is an opportunity here to step up. For us as a team, we can either let these setbacks tear us to shreds—or make us more cohesive. We can either come together or come apart.”
He put his foot up on the lowest bench, leaned onto his knee, and took a few seconds to scan our faces. “I believe in all of you. I believe in this team. And I believe we can still achieve great things this season.”
Absolute silence.
“Okay, boys, take three laps and start the three-man weave. Let’s go.”
He clapped his hands, and we were off.
The practice did not go well. If I’d hoped that Troy being vanquished would help me, I was very sadly mistaken. If anything, the rest of the guys seemed extra angry with me, as if it were my fault. They froze me out. They threw passes at my feet. Someone hit me with a dirty elbow. I fought through it and played hard, but part of me wanted to just quit.
When practice ended, I was a sweaty mess, but I didn’t want to hang around these guys one second longer than necessary. I was about to head out when Brandon ran up behind me.
“Mickey?”
I turned toward him.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“Uh, okay. Now?”
He came a little closer. “Let’s wait for the other guys to leave. I don’t want them to see us. Shower, get dressed, take your time.”
So I did. Again everyone avoided me, except to give me death stares. Half an hour later, Brandon and I were the only ones left in the locker room.
“So talk,” I said to him.
Brandon looked left, then right. “Not here,” he whispered. “Follow me.”
“Where?”
“Just follow me.”
He held open the door, inviting me out into the still corridor. I didn’t like it. The players and coaches were gone now. So were all the teachers. Our footsteps echoed down hallway.
“You get what’s going on, right?” Brandon said.
“About?”
“About why the guys on the team are mad at you.”
“No.”
“Think about it.”
I did. I still didn’t get it.
“You join the team,” Brandon said, “and suddenly Troy comes up with a positive drug test.”
“So?” Then: “Wait, are you saying people think I had something to do with it?”
Brandon nodded. “We’ve all known Troy for years. He’s a lot of things. But he’s not a drug cheat.”
“So, what, they think I spiked his urine or something?”
Brandon stopped and looked at me. “Did you?”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Did you?”
“Of course not. Seriously, even if I wanted to, how would I?”
Brandon shrugged. “You have access to the school.”
“What are you talking about?”
“People know you’re friends with the janitor’s weird kid.”
He meant Spoon. I was about to defend Spoon, to snap back that Spoon wasn’t weird, but then I remembered something: Spoon was weird. Wonderfully so. But he was weird.
“He’s got keys, right? He could sneak you into places.”
“To alter drug tests?” I said. “That’s insane.”
“Is it? Heck, you guys were in here with drug dealers last week. The janitor’s kid got shot, right?”
“Right, but—”
“There’s been a lot of crazy stuff happening in this town since you moved in,” Brandon said, “and somehow, Mickey, you seem to always be in the middle of it.”
We were in a dark corridor now. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like any of this.
“Where are we going, Brandon?”
“Almost there.”
When we reached the end of the corridor, I heard a familiar voice say, “Hello, Mickey. Thanks for coming.”
I turned.
It was Troy.
Chapter 12
I took two steps back and debated how to play this.
I could make a run for it. I could stand and fight. I wasn’t afraid. I was pretty good with my fists, but then again it was two against one, at the very least. There might be more of them somewhere nearby. I could also go after one, make a quick strike, and sprint down the corridor.
But neither Troy nor Brandon moved toward me. They just stood there, both looking at each other nervously, then back at me.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“We need to talk,” Brandon said. “That’s all. Just talk.”
“Are you going to start up again with that nonsense about me setting up Troy?”
It was Troy who replied. “No. I didn’t believe it for a second.”
I looked at him. For the first time since we’d met, Troy Taylor wasn’t looking at me with naked hostility. He wasn’t telling me I was a dead man. He wasn’t mooing at Ema. He looked like a real, live human being.
“I need your help, Mickey.”
“Me?”
Brandon stepped forward. “All that stuff I said before. About how you could break into the school. About all that stuff you’ve been involved with.”
“What about it?”
Troy and Brandon exchanged another look. “You’re good at stuff like that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Come on, Mickey,” Troy said. “My dad is the chief of police here, remember?”
Boy, did I know. Chief Taylor probably hated me more than his son did.
“He told me how you were doing your own investigation when that girl Ashley disappeared. He told me that you drove a car and broke into a nightclub down in Newark. I know you helped Rachel figure out who shot her and her mom. You were actually here, in this school, when those bad guys shot up the place, and you came out on the winning end.”