Box Out (4 page)

“Did you get my package yet?” Mackenzie asks the second Liam answers his phone.

“No. What is it?”

“A secret. I can't tell.”

“Give me a clue.” Liam tosses clothes around as he looks for the uniform Drake gave him to wear to work today.

“It's something French.”

“Big surprise. Let me guess. A black beret.”

“No, nothing to wear. No more questions. I don't want to give it away.”

“French bread, French fries, a French kiss.”

“Stop it,” she says. “Though I'd like to give you the last one. I've got to go in a couple of minutes. Someone's picking me up.”

“Where are you going?”

“A dance. Here in Arles.”

“Who are you going with?”

“Some friends from school.”

“Which friends?” Liam stares out the window at the bare branches.

“Jacqueline and Phillippe. Bernadette and Georges. Jean-Baptiste.”

Liam goes quiet. Sounds like couples going to a dance.

“What's up there?” Mackenzie asks eagerly.

“Not much.” Dizzy jumps up on the bed, but Liam pushes her off.

“Did you have a game Thursday?”

“We beat Plainview.” Liam sits down on the rumpled sheets.

“How'd you do?”

“Two points. Six rebounds.”

“That's good.”

“I miss you, Kenz.” He hears someone talking French in the background.

“I miss you, too, Li. I've got to go. My ride's here.”

“Who's giving you a ride?”

“Just a friend. Jean-Baptiste. Gotta go.”

Liam snaps shut the phone that's already dead.
Jean-Baptiste is probably handsome, rich, and drives a Ferrari. What's Mackenzie doing going to a dance with him? He tosses the phone on the chair. He's not going anyplace with other girls. He and Mackenzie didn't talk about it exactly, but he thought they had an understanding.

Jean-Baptiste. What a stupid name.

Later that afternoon, Liam straightens display models at Shoe Source at the Prairieview Mall. So many cool shoes to use his discount on. Drake's already shown him how to use the register, process credit cards, and remove the security tags. Liam examines his black pants, black Nikes, and black-and-white referee's shirt in the mirror. He pulls at the shirt. He looks dorky dressed up like a referee, but Drake insists it sells shoes.

The entrance bell rings. “Your turn, Bergie.” Drake nods at a short woman with huge sunglasses.

“Can I help you?” Liam's zebra shirt reflects back at him.

“Yes, I need new shoes for my Pilates class.” The woman makes it sound urgent.

“I didn't think you wore shoes in Pilates.”

“No, not
in
class. I need the right shoes to wear
to
class.” She fluffs up the back of her hair.

“Over this way.” Liam leads her to the walking shoes. “Any of these would work to go to class.”

“Thanks. I'll look around.” The woman lifts her glasses to study a pair of Pumas.

“Let me know if you want to try anything on.”

Liam and Drake watch ESPN Classic on the TV above the desk. Dennis Rodman battles through two defenders to grab an offensive rebound for the Chicago Bulls. “What's the deal with Rodman's hair?” Drake makes a face like he's swallowed a toad.

“I think he dyed it team colors for the playoffs.”

“Red and black? Together? Weird.”

Michael Jordan misses and Rodman grabs another board. “Yeah, but he sure can rebound.” Rodman sets a screen and charges to the hoop when Scottie Pippen's bank shot rolls off. Rodman tips the rebound to himself, and the Chicago crowd goes nuts. He's a rebounding machine. Jordan delivers a no-look pass to Pippen, who
finishes with a left-handed jam, and Rodman pumps his fist to the fans.

The sunglasses woman waves as she leaves the store. “Nothing had the right energy. Thanks anyway.”

“Thanks for stopping.” Liam turns back to the game. Can't beat getting paid to watch old basketball games.

“Check this out.” Drake gives Liam a red band with the letters
HWJC
on it.

“What is it?”

“My dad got a bunch of them,” Drake says. “
HWJC
stands for How Would Jesus Compete? You wear it in games as a reminder. Try it on.”

Liam stretches the band over his wrist. How would Jesus compete? He tries to imagine Jesus on the court for Horizon. More likely Jesus would be in drama, maybe have a small part in
Man of La Mancha,
the winter play. Or band. Yeah, Jesus would play saxophone in the band.

“So we'll see you at HAF this week.” Drake puts his red band on.

“Yeah. I'll be there.” Liam runs his fingers over the letters. Why does Drake keep bugging him about this?

“Good, we need you. HAF builds team spirit, and Coach wants boys' hoops to set an example for other sports. He wants everybody on the team to be there.”

“He who exalts himself will be humbled, he who humbles himself will be exalted.” Father Connell's deep voice booms as he paces back and forth in front of the congregation.

Father Connell is short and rumpled and taught Liam's confirmation class. Liam likes that he doesn't take himself too seriously.

“Humility is not merely a virtue,” Father Connell says. “Humility is a necessity for a person of faith.”

Liam pulls his coat around his shoulders and notices Coach G in the third row with his wife and daughter. It's freezing in here. The heat must go straight up to the ceiling. He keeps thinking about Mackenzie. He remembers when he made JV and finally got up the guts to ask her out. He couldn't believe it when she said yes. He can still picture the pink sweater she wore on their first date and how good she looked
in it. The guys on JV were jealous that he was going out with her. Even the varsity guys started to notice his existence.

That was two months ago. She's going to be in France for much longer than that. What did she do last night at the dance? Where did she go afterward? What else did she do with Jean-Baptiste?

“All rise,” Father Connell says.

Liam stands. He can't get the image of Mackenzie with some rich, handsome French guy out of his mind.

“Hey, Darius. What's that?”

“What?” Darius is coming out of the art room carrying a brown, two-foot-tall, triangular tower as kids pour into the hall.

“What you're holding,” Liam says.

“Ceramic sculpture.” The angular head of a person is etched into one side.

“Cool.” Liam keeps looking at the distinctive face. The expression on it is almost a mixture of strength and fear. “Hey, sorry about those dropped passes against Crosston.”

“Forget it.” Darius turns and walks down the hall.

“No, they were right there. I should have had them.” Liam follows him.

“That's true.”

“If I'd caught them, Coach wouldn't have gone off on you, and you'd still be on the team.” Liam fingers the strap of his backpack.

“Listen, you did me a favor.” Darius doesn't break his stride. “I can't play for Kloss. He disrespected me with that talk about street ball. He doesn't know hoops. He doesn't respect the game.”

“Still, I can't believe you quit. You're good enough to earn a scholarship.”

“My dad's been on me to quit for a month.” Darius turns the corner and Liam hurries to keep up. “He says if I put half the energy into art that I put into hoops, I'll have plenty of scholarships.”

“So you quit because of your dad?” Liam asks.

“No. I quit because I hate Kloss. That's enough.”

“I know, but you didn't like the prayers either, did you?”

“They didn't bother me.”

“But you didn't say them.”

“What are you? A cop? I get ready for games my own way.”

“Sorry.” Liam tries to think of something else to talk about. “We won by twenty-two at Plainview.”

“Look at me.” Darius turns to Liam. “Do I look like I care?”

Liam tightens the strap on his pack and shakes his head. Maybe the guys are right. Maybe Darius doesn't care about anybody other than himself.

When Liam gets home, he finds a package addressed to him on the kitchen counter.

“Who's it from?” Mom looks up from her laptop.

“Mackenzie.”

“Oh.”

Liam rips off the paper. Mom's never been nuts about Mackenzie. She doesn't think Mackenzie's good enough or smart enough for her boy. Too bad. Mackenzie's his girlfriend, not hers.

Inside is a cardboard box covered with tape. It looks like the box was sealed to survive a hurricane. He slices through the tape with scissors.

“Be careful.” Mom looks up but continues to type.

Liam cuts through the last section and pulls out a purple box labeled
CHOCOLATERIE MONIQUE
.

“Oh, my.” Mom gets up. “French chocolate.”

Liam peels the wrapping off the box slowly while Mom
watches. She's practically drooling. He opens the box and takes a sniff. “
Mmmm.
”

“Are you going to share?”

“Are you going to say something nice about Mackenzie?”

“Yes.” Mom looks closely at the chocolates. “She picks out wonderful gifts.”

“More.” Liam holds the box in front of her and she follows him around the living room.

“She's a thoughtful girl.”

“More.”

“She's a lovely young woman.”

Liam laughs. “See, that wasn't so bad. Have a chocolate.”

Mom picks one, smells it, and takes a bite. “Delicious.”

Liam selects a chocolate-covered hazelnut. Mackenzie must be missing him. Or maybe she's feeling guilty about something.

Liam pulls the laces of his Nikes tight and twists them into a double knot before the game on Tuesday.
West Branch is Horizon's main rival, so these games are always intense. The gym will be packed tonight.

“Take care of the basketball.” Coach waves his arms like an umpire signaling safe. “These guys are twelve and two. If we want to beat them, we can't turn the ball over.” He's wearing a red
HWJC
band and a sweater vest that says
HORIZON BASKETBALL
.

How much would someone have to pay Liam to wear a vest like that? A lot. Enough for a plane ticket to France.

“Staley, will you lead us in prayer?” Coach kneels on the bench.

Staley steps forward and Liam folds his hands. Does everybody on varsity have to do this? Is he going to have to lead prayers, too?

“Lord, we ask You to guide us,” Staley says. “Be with us tonight as we compete the right way. Protect us as we do Your work.”

Liam looks around. All the other guys are wearing their
HWJC
bands. He didn't think it was mandatory. His own wrist looks naked in comparison.

“Let us pray together,” Staley says.

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name.” Liam bows his head and waits for the Protestant ending.

“For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. AMEN.” Everybody hits the last two syllables with extra volume.

“Let's go get a victory.” Coach stands.

Liam slaps the Blazer sign as he runs into the gym. The bleachers are full and the crowd cheers loudly. He spots his folks in the same seats as last time. Mr. Craney, the high school principal, is talking to someone who's painted his chest and face red and white. It's Seth.

“Beat the crap out of them,” Seth hollers.

Craney glares at him.

“Snot,” he says. “Knock the snot out of them.”

West Branch comes onto the floor and their fans roar. It sounds like they have as many people here as Horizon does—not much of a home-court advantage. The West Branch players form a circle and pass two balls back and forth. They've got some big guys, and they're smiling
and cracking jokes. They look confident, like they can't imagine losing to Horizon.

On the opening tip, West Branch controls the ball, and Horizon rushes back on defense.

“Hands up,” Coach calls.

West Branch sends the ball into the post and back to the arc. Staley rushes out, but Collinswood, West Branch's all-state guard, rises over him and buries the jumper.

“Get on him,” Coach shouts.

On offense, Horizon doesn't get any open looks because of suffocating man-to-man defense.

“Keep moving,” Coach hollers.

Staley cuts off Pelke's screen, but Collinswood sticks to him. Gund passes to Nielsen, who looks like he's not sure what to do. Nielsen throws a high pass to Drake and the West Branch center picks it off easily.

“No turnovers.” Coach looks down the bench. “Bergie, get in for Nielsen. Take care of the ball.”

Collinswood drives to the hoop and draws a foul on
Nielsen. Liam rips off his warm-ups, checks in, and runs onto the court.

“Bergie, Bergie,” Seth bellows, and some of the guys from JV join in. “Bergie, Bergie.”

“You've got forty-five.” Nielsen breathes hard.

Liam lines up for the free throw and wipes his hands on the soles of his shoes.

“Two shots.” The ref bounces the ball to Collinswood.

Liam looks over at forty-five. He's about the same height, but maybe twenty pounds heavier. Liam's going to have to stay in front of him to keep him off the boards.

Collinswood nails the free throw and steps back from the line. He makes the game look so easy. He spins the ball and knocks down the second one.

Liam grabs the ball and starts to pass it, but at the last second he sees Collinswood pressing. He pulls back and signals for time.

The ref blows his whistle. “Time-out, White.”

“Smart call, Bergie.” Staley jogs with Liam to the bench.

“Drake, you need to help out on the press. Pay
attention.” Coach pulls out his whiteboard. “Nielsen, get in for Drake.”

Drake spits out his mouth guard and walks to the end of the bench. Coach is pulling guys as soon as they make a mistake. It's hard to get into the flow of the game that way.

“Nielsen, come back on the press.” Coach diagrams Xs and Os on the board. “Bergie, get the ball to Nielsen.”

Liam nods.

“Run the offense.” Coach sets the whiteboard down and holds out his palm. “Horizon High.”

“Team basketball,” everybody shouts.

Liam walks onto the court prepared for the press, but West Branch takes it off and switches to a one-three-one zone. They're not predictable. They keep switching looks and keeping Horizon off balance.

He runs the offense and West Branch anticipates it. Forty-five grabs Liam's shirt but keeps his hands in so he doesn't get caught. Pelke shuffles a soft pass and Liam jumps for the layup.

Whaap.
Someone knocks the ball out of bounds. The West Branch fans go wild, but the ref blows his whistle.

“Foul on number twenty-one, Green. Two shots.”

Collinswood looks at the ref. “All ball.” He smiles as he walks past.

Liam rubs his palms. Collinswood is right. The block was clean. Where did he come from? He seemed to swoop out of the sky.

“Don't you know a block when you see one?” a West Branch fan howls in protest.

“Open your eyes, you blind bat.” A heavy guy in a green sweater takes off his glasses and waves them at the ref. “That's no foul.”

Liam steps to the line for free throws he doesn't deserve. The ref passes him the ball. Free points, Coach called them. Nobody guarding you. Nobody waving a hand in your face. Free points. Yeah, but Coach isn't the one trying to knock them down with all these people screaming.

Broke.
The word from the Crosston game echoes in his mind. The first shot bounces off the side of the rim.

“One shot, fellas.” The ref gives Liam the ball.

Liam bounces it twice, looks up, and shoots. It hits the
front of the rim, pops up, and drops in. One of two. Why can't he relax and make two of two like he did on JV?

Back on defense, Liam gets up on his toes and moves to cut off the passing lane. As the ball moves around, he switches between playing in front of his guy to playing behind, so West Branch can't pass it in easily. He boxes out his guy and jumps for a rebound.

“That's our Bergie,” Seth's voice rumbles.

Late in the half, Gund signals for the last shot. As many mistakes as they've made, Horizon is only down by eleven. A hoop here would cut it to single digits. Gund bounces the ball at the top of the key as the clock counts down.

Liam sets a screen on Pelke's man. Gund passes to Pelke, who passes back to Staley. Collinswood is all over him. Staley passes to Liam, whose guy guards him tightly. He feeds Nielsen, who hesitates and passes back to Gund.

Gund shoots a jumper as the buzzer sounds. Rejected. What a bad shot. Everybody was playing cautiously, trying to avoid a turnover rather than making a move to the basket.

What did Darius call it? Not respecting the game.