Free Rucker Park Setup by Paul Volponi Page A

without thinking, I gun the pass to him. The kid catches the ball in stride and lays it in.
    â€œGreenbacks by seven. That’s the biggest lead of the game,” announces Acorn.
    I can hear Greene whooping it up, and part of me wishes I could dig myself a hole right here on the court. I’d jump in without thinking twice. Then I’d keep on digging straight down, till I came out in China.
    Non-Fiction gets the ball inside and misses an easy layup. The rock just rolls around the rim and won’t fall home, like there was an invisible lid on the basket. The guy who missed the shot’s running back along the sideline, and Fat Anthony tries to kick him in the ass as he runs past.
    I catch the ball with Kodak on me and back him down under the basket. Then I slam both shoulders into him hard. Kodak goes down like a shot, even before I really hit him. I turn and score, waiting to hear a whistle. But Stove doesn’t call me for the offensive foul, and neither does Hamilton.
    The crowd lets out a long “ Oooooooooh! ”
    The hoop counts, and we go up by nine points.
    Kodak’s flat on his back, cursing.
    Fat Anthony calls time-out so he can rip into Hamilton.
    â€œ He told you not to make those calls anymore. Ain’t that right, Hambone?” screams Anthony, pointing at Stove. “You couldn’t be that blind on your own! Nobody could!”
    I walk back to our bench through all the noise and hear footsteps flying up from behind. Then I see his shadow come through mine on the floor, and I flinch.
    It’s Greene.
    He wraps both arms tight around my stomach, and everything inside me freezes solid. Then Greene lifts me off the ground, and for a second, I forget how to breathe. My feet are reaching for the court, but it’s not there. My head’s raised back, and all I can see is the dark sky. It’s like I lost my whole world. I’m stuck inside Greene’s arms, and there’s no place left for me anywhere.
    Greene drops me back down. My heels hit hard, and I feel a knot in my stomach where his hands shoved into me.
    Everybody’s running up to slap my back, but I won’t take my eyes off of him.
    â€œI love how you drilled that faker,” says Greene. “Posers aren’t entitled to shit in this world. I hope he never gets up off the fuckin’ ground.”
    Stove
    It’s just a damn game, and I’m not going to make that call. Anthony can howl all he wants about it. I’ve got to push people to the limit if I’m going to find out who killed my son.
    I don’t care how many shots Mackey makes. I know he’s in Anthony’s pocket. I’ve seen Mackey have big games before. It didn’t matter if it was in front of two hundred people in a high-school gym, or just a couple of kids playing pickup in the park. Mackey couldn’t keep the light from pouring out of his eyes. He’d try hard to fight back a smile. But the muscles in his cheeks would always win out.
    That’s not Mackey out there. That’s not even Hold the Mustard. It’s some kid I hardly know trying to get out from under a mountain of shit.
    I know how bad Mackey’s hurting over J.R. He was there. He saw J.R. get stabbed to death. And after that, I don’t know how Mackey could open his eyes again. He wants to push it as far away as he can. But I can’t live with that. And until I find out for sure, I’m not gonna let Mackey out of my sight.

11
    FAT ANTHONY’S SQUAD scores and cuts the lead to seven points. We fast-break the other way, and I get the ball in the middle of the court. I got a teammate open on each wing. Only one of them’s this big, muscle-bound dude with hands like stones.
    I look hard to my right. When the defense bites, I go to pass the ball off to my left. But I hesitate for a half-second, just enough to throw the big dude off stride. Then I push the ball into his palms, instead of laying it on his fingertips. He