Free When I Find Her by Kate Bridges Page B

freak!” he shouts.
    My ribs burn with pain. I lose my air. I need to catch my breath before I can do anything.
    Gary gets up and takes out his red pocketknife. He snaps open a blade. His face swirls above me.
    “Put that thing away,” Vlad warns.
    Gary’s group of friends yank at his arm. He sneers at me that I’m still down, then snaps his knife closed and moves away with his friends.
    “Luke?” Vlad peers down at me.
    I don’t have the air to answer.
    He helps me up.
    Fresh, powerful air surges back into my lungs.
    “What’s the problem here?” Mr. Thornton, our short and skinny basketball coach, peers up through his bifocals at us.
    “No problem, sir,” says Vlad. “Luke tripped.”
    “You all right?” the coach asks me.
    “Fine,” I grumble.
    “You can still play today?”
    “Yes, sir.” I struggle to breathe normally.
    “Why’d you miss practice the other day?”
    I mumble something.
    “If it’s because of a hospital visit, Luke, you’re supposed to tell me.”
    “Sorry…”
    The bell rings and he turns away.
    “What the hell were you thinking?” Vlad asks me.
    “Gary’s beating…on Simon,” I gasp. “And he-he always brings a few of his friends.”
    “Crap,” says Vlad. “What’re you gonna do?”
    “I don’t know. I-I’ve got to think of something.” I take short breaths. It helps the throbbing in my ribs.
    “You sure you’re all right?”
    “Good enough.” I decide not to mention my sore ribs. They’re capable of healing on their own. I’d once seen it in a movie when the hero was nearly killed in a fistfight and all of his ribs were broken. Maybe mine are only bruised. Maybe the crack I heard was Gary’s knuckle. If I tell anyone, they’d send me to the hospital to get checked. I’m not about to miss the basketball game this afternoon.
    “Let’s talk after school,” I tell Vlad when the second bell rings. “At the game.”
     
    ∞
     
    I can’t stand looking at Gary but can’t avoid it. I take a deep breath. The pain’s not so bad now. It’s the last quarter of the game and Gary’s dribbling the ball over the midcourt line. We’re playing against Hamilton. The score is close – we’re four points behind at sixty-eight to sixty-four.
    Gary, playing center, jumps to shoot and misses. Beside him playing forward on our team, Vlad swears. Then Gary swears, but it seems to be more at Vlad than the missed point. I think Vlad, closer to the hoop, expected Gary to pass the ball to him but the selfish bastard refused.
    Two university scouts stretch forward in the bleachers, watching the game. Everyone is aware of them. They’re the same scouts who approached me last year. They’re both super tall and played pro themselves for the NBA, but are not affiliated with the NBA now. One’s blonde, the other dark. They were here last fall to watch a game with the senior basketball team after my junior team got off the court. They were killing time, sitting through my game.
    They dropped by to see me play seven more times. Afterward, they told me they were so impressed with my game that they wanted to talk to me about playing for their university. Basketball scholarship . Their words. I was ecstatic, secretly dreaming of where it might lead, maybe even eventually playing for my favorite NBA team since I was three years old, the Toronto Raptors. I imagined myself in their jersey and on their team for weeks. Then I got ill and the university scouts lost interest. After my first chemo treatment, I left two phone messages for them, but they never returned either call. I knew what it meant.
    I suspect my parents left a few more messages, but I didn’t ask.
    I think my dad was the most disappointed. “For you,” he told me. “I’m disappointed for you. It’s not fair, Luke. You’re still in the game.”
    Not exactly playing, though. Mostly, Coach Thornton gives me pine time. Getting splinters on the bench has become my new hobby, but I consider myself lucky that he