The Sixth Man Page 11

  He was trying to think of a clever answer—maybe, Wow, that sounds great—but she was gone, heading over to where Coach Archer was standing.

  He wondered if anyone noticed he was standing there with a stupid grin on his face. He might be a step behind, but he still had a date on Saturday.

  Alex and Christine had wandered the mall, drifting in and out of different places, catching each other up on their holidays. They hung out in a bookstore for a while, talking their way through the books on the sports shelves. Alex and his dad had done that often, and they always came home with something they both wanted to read. But every time Alex pointed out a book now, Christine’s response was, “Yeah, that was good.”

  Finally he made her pick a favorite for him and something she hadn’t already read for her.

  They took their books upstairs to the food court. They had time for an ice cream before his mom was due to pick them up. Watching Christine eat her ice cream, Alex made an important decision: he was going to kiss her. The question was where and when and—perhaps most important—how to do it.

  “You think you’ll be able to practice tomorrow? Are you worried about your wrist?” she asked, bringing him back from his strategizing.

  “Maybe a little,” he said. “Jonas and I are going to get to practice early, so I’ll have a chance to see how it feels. And Coach Archer wants to watch me before he decides whether to let me scrimmage or not.”

  “I wonder how good the new kid will be,” she said.

  Alex shrugged. “Coach doesn’t compliment players too often, and he seems pretty excited. He has to be better than what we’ve got, right?”

  Christine pointed her cone at Alex for a second. “Dick Jerardi says he’s never met a coach who didn’t like the guys not playing for him better than the ones who are.”

  Alex actually remembered reading something like that in a book about the infamously angry former coach Bob Knight. His best players always seemed to be those who had already left the Indiana program or hadn’t yet arrived.

  “Well, we’ll find out soon enough,” Alex said.

  They got up and started walking in the direction of the escalators that would take them to the lower parking deck, where they’d locked their bikes and where they were supposed to meet his mom. Down they went, heading for the doors. Alex’s heart was pounding, and he found himself walking slower and slower. The doors loomed. His mom could already be waiting, or she could pull up at the worst possible time. It was now or never.

  He stopped and reached out for her arm. “Hey, hold on a minute, Christine.”

  She turned and looked up at him.

  Then, almost before he knew what was happening, she stood on her tiptoes, pulled his head down, and kissed him—quickly, but firmly, on the lips.

  “Thank you for the book, and the ice cream, and the great day.”

  She stepped back, smiling her dazzling smile.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  He couldn’t think of anything else to say. But judging by her smile, that seemed to be okay.

  It turned out Alex wasn’t the only Myers to have a date on Saturday. After they had dropped Christine off, his mom told him she was going out to dinner with Coach Archer.

  “He called after you left to meet Christine,” she said. “I wasn’t holding out on you.”

  Alex laughed. “You aren’t going to get engaged or anything, are you?” he said. “As long as you don’t do that, it’s all good.”

  She laughed, then said, “Still mad at your dad?”

  Alex shrugged. “I don’t know how to feel. He’s texted a couple times this last week to check on my wrist, but that’s it. I think he’s afraid to talk to me. Or Molly.”

  She stopped at a red light and looked right at him.

  “You’re probably right,” she said. “I think he wants to talk to the two of you in person the next time he’s down here.”

  “Which will be when?” Alex asked.

  “Good question,” his mom answered, and the light turned green.

  The weather was frigid on Sunday morning, with snow expected later in the day. Alex’s mom picked up Jonas and dropped the two boys off at the gym. She had gotten home after Alex had gone to bed on Saturday, and they only talked briefly about her date at breakfast.

  “It was fun,” she had said. “He’s definitely a jock at heart, like you and…”—she paused—“like your dad.”

  Alex didn’t know what to think about that….

  Alex and Jonas walked into the gym to find Coach Archer shooting jump shots by himself. He looked at his watch and said, “It’s 11:01—you’re late. I should make you go outside and run.”

  If he hadn’t been smiling, Alex would have been worried.

  As Alex and Jonas began peeling off their jackets and sweats, Coach Archer flipped them the ball he’d been practicing with. “Remember, Alex, nothing too physical at first. Go slow. Just do some shooting drills and maybe, if you feel okay, some noncontact one on one. You understand what noncontact means, Jonas?”

  “I should knock him on his butt before he makes contact with me?” Jonas asked.

  “Exactly,” Coach Archer laughed.

  Alex felt no pain when he shot the ball, but he was completely rusty. And despite all the reps he’d put in with free weights, his wrist still wasn’t built back up to full strength, so he found himself pushing his shot to get it to the basket.

  Coach Archer noticed. “That’s not your shooting motion,” he said. “You’re trying too hard.”

  “I know,” Alex said. “My wrist is still a little bit weak.”

  “Right,” Coach Archer said. “Not surprising. Let’s just work on dribbling and passing and do some fast-break stuff. That way you won’t get into any bad habits with your shot. When practice starts, we’ll get you in some drills, but I think we’ll wait until after Tuesday’s game to let you scrimmage.”

  “So, you’re saying I’m not going to play Tuesday?”

  “Do you think you’re ready to play?”

  Alex glanced at Jonas. He wanted to say yes, but he knew the answer was no. He finally shook his head. Coach Archer walked over and put an arm around him.

  “Smart call, Alex. Take it slow. Passing and dribbling…”

  Alex and Jonas did that, running up and down the court throwing passes to one another and doing ball-handling drills—mostly with Alex on offense, because he needed the work—and then forming their own two-man layup line, so Alex could ease his way back into shooting the ball. His wrist felt fine attempting simple layups.

  At noon, Coach Archer looked at his watch.

  “Okay, fellas, we should stop. You’ve got to be back here at three o’clock for practice. I don’t want to wear either one of you out. Jonas, you need a ride?” Alex’s mom and Molly were ice-skating, so Coach Archer was giving Alex a ride home.

  “My mom’s picking me up in fifteen minutes,” Jonas said. “We’ve got a big family lunch. We’ve got relatives who are still in town.”

  Coach Archer nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll see you back here at three for practice.”

  Jonas gave Alex a gentle high five and headed to the locker room for a quick shower.

  “You hungry?” Coach Archer asked Alex.

  Alex was always hungry. “Sure,” he said, thinking maybe Coach Archer was going to offer a McDonald’s stop on the way back to the house.

  “Good,” Coach Archer said. “Let’s go get some pizza. We should talk.”

  Alex sighed. The pizza sounded good. The talk he wasn’t so sure about.

  They went to a place called Tony’s that Alex had never been to before, but it certainly smelled good when they walked in.

  “One of the teachers told me the pizza here is good,” Coach Archer said as they sat down at a table in the corner. “I figure a place called Tony’s has to have good pizza.”

  They ordered a large with sausage. Alex asked for ice tea. Coach Archer decided on coffee.

  “So, I just thought bef
ore school and practice and games start again that you and I should talk about your mom,” Coach Archer said once they had ordered.

  He waited to see if Alex had anything to say and then plowed on. “How do you feel about your basketball coach going out with your mother?”

  Alex grimaced. But the guy seemed nervous, so he decided to cut him some slack. “Well, I’m not sure how I feel about anyone going out with my mom,” he said. “But that’s a different question. As for you going out with her…” He paused. “Honestly? I don’t know. It’s kind of a jumble right now.”

  “That’s honest,” Coach Archer said. “If it makes you feel better, I’m not sure how she feels about it either.”

  “She likes you,” Alex said. “At least, I think she does.”

  That seemed to make Coach Archer happy. “Well, I like her too,” he said. “She’s smart and funny and…”

  “Pretty,” Alex said.

  “That too,” Coach Archer said.

  Alex sighed. “She’s probably told you about what’s going on with my dad. He’s moved on with his life—for better or worse—so I guess my mom is entitled to do the same thing.”

  “But it would probably be easier for you if your basketball coach and your mother’s boyfriend weren’t the same person.”

  Alex winced at the word boyfriend.

  Coach Archer noticed. “Sorry, that’s probably premature. We’ve only been out twice.”

  “But you want to go out with her again.”

  He nodded. “I do. But I’m not joking about this even a little: your mom and I both agree if it’s at all uncomfortable for you, we won’t go out anymore.”

  Alex thought about that for a minute, then took a deep breath.

  “Look, Coach, let’s be real. It is weird for me. But it would be way worse if she started going out with some jerk—like my dad is doing.”

  “Or got engaged to one,” he put in.

  “Yeah, that too.”

  Their pizza arrived. It looked very good.

  “Of course, a month ago, you thought I was a jerk,” Coach Archer said, taking a slice.

  “Much worse than that,” Alex said, causing his coach to laugh.

  Alex took his own slice of pizza. “Coach, if you like my mom and she likes you, then you should keep seeing her. I just want her to be happy.”

  “You sure you’re fourteen?” Coach Archer said. “You sound more like forty.”

  Alex thought about that for a second. “Well, there has to be one man in my family who acts like an adult,” he said. “I guess, for now, it’s me.”

  He took a bite of the pizza. It was excellent. He held the slice up: “Besides, you discovered a really good pizza place. That gets you big points with me.”

  They ate and talked about the game coming up and whether the Celtics or the Sixers might have a chance this year. When they were down to the last slices, Coach Archer looked at his watch.

  “Gotta get you home,” he said. “I’m supposed to meet your new teammate and his mom back at school. Give them the lay of the land a little bit. I hope you guys will help him out tomorrow. Dropping into a new school in the middle of the year isn’t easy.”

  “Dropping into a new school at the start of school isn’t that easy either,” Alex said. “We’ll look out for him. I promise.”

  Alex didn’t have much time at home after Coach Archer dropped him off. He watched some football until his mom and Molly came home. Then they picked up Jonas for a second time and got back to school at a few minutes before three.

  As Alex and Jonas walked in the direction of the locker room, Coach Archer came out of his office trailed by a tall, wiry kid with almost shoulder-length blond hair who could only be Max Bellotti. He looked to be about six four and moved easily like a natural athlete. What that meant was hard to describe. The walk was fluid, almost a strut, filled with the confidence of someone who knew people were looking at him and he was completely comfortable with that.

  “Perfect timing,” Coach Archer said, waving Alex and Jonas over. “Guys, this is your new teammate. Max Bellotti, meet Alex Myers and Jonas Ellington.” He paused a moment and then added, “They’re going to be your guards when the game’s on the line.”

  That made Alex feel good.

  “When did you get to town?” Alex asked.

  “We started from Detroit on Tuesday and got here late Wednesday. My mom really wanted to start the new year in our new place.”

  He had an easy smile and a friendly manner. Alex, who had a tendency to make snap judgments, decided he liked him.

  “Since they’re both juniors, I’m asking Steve Holder to try to guide Max through his first few days,” Coach Archer said. “But I’d appreciate it if you guys could make him feel welcome too.”

  “Sure,” Jonas said with a smile. “Long as he can play.”

  “I can play,” Bellotti said, smiling too. “At least, I think I can.”

  Coach Archer said, “Well, your last coach is definitely a fan.”

  “That might be because we won twenty-five games last season,” Bellotti said. “Coach was a fan of all of us for that.”

  “Did you make the state playoffs?” Alex asked.

  Bellotti nodded. “Lost by six points in the sectional final to the team that won it all. They had two starters who are at Michigan State this year and one who’s at Florida State. Of course, we had two guys who got D1 scholarships too.”

  He had just the right mix of cockiness and modesty, Alex thought. Clearly, he was a good player and knew it—but he didn’t feel the need to get in your face about it.

  “Can you guys take Max to the locker room?” Coach Archer said. “I set up a locker for him. We need to hustle.”

  The rest of the players were already changing. Steve Holder spotted them, and said, “Hey, Max, come on over here. I want to introduce you to everybody.”

  “It’s a new year,” Holder said when he had rattled off all their names. “Let’s get going in the right direction. Max was averaging twenty-one points a game for his team in Detroit.”

  Alex saw some wide eyes when Holder said that.

  “There’s only one ball,” Tony Early murmured in a stage whisper everyone could hear.

  “So that ball better get to Max a lot,” Holder said.

  Happy New Year, Alex thought as they headed in the direction of the court.

  It was apparent very quickly that Max Bellotti was the real deal.

  Alex noticed it in the shooting drills Coach Archer ran them through before they started to scrimmage. The ball came off Max’s hands softly as it arced toward the basket. He stepped into three-point shots with the confidence most players showed when going in for an open layup. Even when he missed, the ball seemed to go around the rim several times before dropping off.

  Coach Archer put both Max and Alex with the white team when they started to scrimmage. Max was still feeling his way, learning the offense, and Alex was pretty tentative on his first day back at practice. Even so, when they were both in, the whites held their own against the reds.

  Coach Archer pulled Alex to rest him on several occasions so that he didn’t try to do too much too soon. And even with Early at point, Max managed to score.

  As they walked off the court at the end of practice, Holder caught up to Alex and Jonas.

  “Fellas,” he said, “I think we might just have ourselves a basketball team.”

  Zane Wakefield, a couple of steps in front of them, turned when he heard that. He started to say something but apparently thought better of it, then kept walking.

  The first sign of trouble came Monday morning, when Alex walked out of his third-period math class and was almost thrown against the wall by Hope Alexander.

  He had actually been enjoying the morning—thinking about how nice it was to start a new semester at a school where he now had friends, knew his way around. Plus, he couldn’t wait to get to basketball practice.

  And then Hope literally put her hand on his chest and pushed
him up against the lockers.

  “Okay, who is he?” she asked. “And don’t give me any runaround.”

  Alex thought that Christine Whitford was the prettiest girl in the school. But Hope Alexander was tops on a lot of other guys’ lists. She was tall (at least five ten) and impossible to miss as she sashayed down a hallway with her long blond hair appearing to blow in the wind—even indoors.

  Now she was looking him right in the eye—which was a little unnerving—and saying, “Did you hear me, Alex? I want details.”

  Alex was genuinely confused. “Who are you talking about?” he asked.

  “The Greek god walking around with Steve Holder,” Hope said in a tone that implied Alex was perhaps the densest person she had ever met.

  Ah. Alex probably should have predicted this. “You mean Max?” he said casually, as if he were talking about his cat. “He’s the new kid from Detroit. Transfer. Plays basketball. He’s a good shooter; I think he’s going to help us—”

  “Who cares if he’s any good,” said Kelly Clark, a very pretty redhead, who was standing just off Hope’s shoulder. “Do you know if he’s dating anyone?”

  “Since he just moved here, I doubt it,” Alex said. “But I really don’t know. I only met him for a few minutes yesterday before practice. Seems like a good guy—”

  “Introduce me,” Hope said instantly.

  Alex looked at her for a second and smiled. “You’re not shy, Hope. Introduce yourself,” he said. “And while you’re at it, introduce him to Matt too.”

  Hope and Matt Gordon had been dating since the middle of football season. Alex had actually been impressed that even after Matt’s fall from grace, Hope had stuck with him.

  Her face clouded for a second; then she brightened. “Maybe he’s got a sister for Matt,” she said.

  “Maybe he’s got a twin brother,” Kelly said.

  Alex had heard enough—more than enough. “I gotta go,” he said. He squirmed free from Hope’s grip and fled down the hall.