Free In the Paint by Jeff Rud Page A

much. He wanted to be out there, and he felt bad for Phil and Jake who hadn’t had much practice time before the game and weren’t familiar with the varsity playbook. Matt had also wanted so badly to be able to show Mark what he could now do on the basketball court that missing this game was demoralizing.
    It seemed to Matt like years since the two brothers had even shot hoops together. Since Mark had moved away to work in Eton, Matt had missed him more than he ever thought he would. They had regular contact by phone and e-mail, but it wasn’t the same as being able to go for a walk or play catch at a moment’s notice. And for Matt it was different being the “man” of the house now that his brother had moved out.
    Matt stole a glance at Mark, sitting next to his mom in the bleachers. He wondered what he’d be doing when he was Mark’s age, whether he’d be able to move away from home as his brother had. It all seemed so far away from his life in middle school.
    As the white- and blue-clad Churchill dancers sped through their halftime number, kids and parents mingled near the gym floor and the concession table. Looking one section to his right, Matt noticed Grant Jackson and Steve White sitting together with a large group of friends. Andrew McTavish, who was serving a suspension like Matt, wasn’t with them this time.
    The group of boys were laughing loudly and horsing around in the bleachers, oblivious to the disruption they were causing for the folks sitting near them. As they continued, a couple of families got up and moved further down the stands.
    Suddenly, Jackson stood up and glared in Matt’s direction. Something looked different about him tonight. It was something in his eyes and the unsteady way he was standing.
    â€œHey, Hill, who’s your date?” Jackson laughed, eyeing Matt’s mom. “She’s real pretty.” His friends beside him snickered.
    Matt’s ears burned and he flushed with embarrassment. He couldn’t let this go, not in front of most of the school. But what should he do?
    Before Jackson could sit down, Mark stood up beside Matt and his mother. The sight of Mark’s six-foot-three frame, chiseled from long days of work on the oil rigs, was enough to silence Jackson. A few minutes later, he and his crew slid quietly out the gym door.
    Matt and his family watched the rest of the game in peace. But there wasn’t much to cheer about as South Side fell fifty to thirty-eight to Churchill. Despite a much better second-half performance, the poor start was just too much for the Stingers to overcome. It was so difficult for Matt to watch his teammates struggling out there, knowing there was nothing he could do about it.
    Matt’s mom had to show a house to clients right after the game, so Mark told her he would drive Matt home. He was staying for the whole weekend, which was nice for Mom. While Matt found himself missing his older brother a lot of the time, he knew it was much worse for her. “Hey, bro, let’s go for a pizza,” Mark said as they pulled out of the school parking lot in his blue pickup. “I’m buying.”
    They sat in the back booth at Classico’s, the neighborhood pizza place that they had been going to for years. They ordered their old standard — an extra-large double cheese, double pepperoni and onions — and a couple of Cokes. It felt good to be with Mark, who shared the same wavy hair as he and his mother but who had inherited the lanky height and the deep blue eyes of their father. Mark always seemed to have a calm, balanced approach to everything, even if he did bring his laundry home from Eton whenever he visited.
    â€œYou guys have a decent team,” Mark said, eyeing his little brother across the booth. “Probably a lot better when you’re actually playing, though.”
    Matt was happy for the compliment. He told Mark he was looking forward to the final part of