Page 165 of The Locker Room

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“We were going to have it signed by Christian Edwards,” Dad was

saying. “We were really disappointed when he was traded.”

“You and me both,” Xander replied, feeling hollow and bright, like

a candy shell.

“Yeah—we really thought this team had a chance with the two of

you. Now I guess it"s just you, right?”

Xander frowned. “No—there"s four other guys on the court,

whether Chris is one of them or not,” he said. It was automatic, ingrained

in every player of team sports ever, to give his team props. But hearing

his own voice saying the words made him realize that yes, they really

weretrue. For a moment, he felt a surge of gratification—basketball and

Chris, right? Well, he still had basketball.

He"d smiled at the father and his children with more of his heart,

and lifted the long-limbed little boy up to dunk the ball (an easy feat,

142 Amy Lane

since his long limbs felt like they were made of bird"s bones) and sat

down to watch his team play with a certain amount of pride.

And now? Jesus, were they letting him—and Doc Malloy, and that

nice family andChris,for heaven"s sake,allof them—down.

“Don"t take the shot,” he muttered, as Wilson Aames, who usually

played guard but was replacing him tonight so that the second string

could be guard, went running through the other team"s guards to try to

shoot. “Don"t take the shot, don"t take the shot, don"t take the shot—”

Wilson was an inch taller than Xander. Why couldn"t the guy see that

Napoleon Burkins, his guard, had a better chance? But, no, there went

the ball in the air. Napoleon, who"d had his hands up when he was

expecting the pass, dropped them to his side at the shot and missed the

rebound.

“Goddammit,you shouldn"t take that shot!”Xander hollered. He

was loud enough to make Wilson roll his eyes in Xander"s direction

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