Page 161 of The Locker Room
Colorado and stay in a hotel, and Christian could hold him while he
slept! (Corny, yes, but he"d slept so poorly, pain meds notwithstanding,
that he realized that it was going to be a real pain in the ass while they
were apart.)
And then he"d remembered that Chris was gone on a six-game road
trip, and he sighed and slumped on the examining table, even as the doc
wrapped his foot, glaring at him all the while.
“What the hell did you do to it, anyway?” Malloy asked, and
Xander shrugged.
“Shot a few baskets, then propped it up on the coffee table and
watched the game.”
Malloy shook his head and grumbled as if he didn"t believe him
(but it was the truth!) and wandered away to find crutches. He passed
Wallick, who walked in, who said, “You know this doesn"t get you out
of being there at the games!”
For a minute, Xander wanted to protest, but he didn"t. He enjoyed
the pregame festivities at the arena; in particular, he really loved signing
balls and shooting baskets with the kids whose parents brought them
early. He wasn"t sure when he"d started loving basketball, or when it
came to be so important, but he could only imagine that once, when he
was in kindergarten or first grade,someadult had paid attention to him,
some adult had put a ball in his hand. Most of the parents who brought
their kids were good people—fed their kids, clothed them,lovedthem,
but that didn"t stop Xander from loving the idea that he might be putting
the ball in the hands of the next Larry Bird, or LeBron James, or Vlade
Divac or Chris Webber. Or Clifford Washington. Or Christian Edwards.
Or Xander Karcek.
That last one didn"t seem like such a benefit, but he still wasn"t
going to skip out on signing balls.
“I know it doesn"t,” he said now to the coach. “I"ll be there.”
