Spark
Page 18
He didn’t really miss any of the guys.
It made him think of Michael’s comments.
Stupid. He didn’t need friends. He had his twin brother.
His phone chimed. Speaking of Nick.
Go ahead without me. I’m going home with Quinn.
Of course. Gabriel shoved the phone back in his pocket.
Nick hadn’t even talked to him last night. Usually they did the postmortem when one went out without the other. But maybe Nick didn’t feel like he had to. He’d been with Chris, after all.
Whatever.
Dribble. Shoot.
The ball hit the rim and ricocheted sideways, toward the bleachers.
Gabriel swore and jogged to retrieve it but Layne’s brother stepped out of the shadowed corner by the door and picked it up.
Simon wore basketball shorts and a loose T-shirt, the clothes making him look smaller than he really was. Sweat darkened his shirt and matted his hair at the temples he’d probably been out running. The JV coach always made them run at the end of a practice. Gabriel remembered.
If Simon had stayed late for practice, did that mean Layne was still around?
She’d said her little brother dragged her to all the basketball games last year, so Simon had seen him play. It hadn’t occurred to him until now that it meant Layne had seen him play, too.
He should have apologized. In class. He should have said something.
Yeah, and how would that go? I’m sorry I stopped those douchebags.
He scanned the bleachers, as if he could have missed a lone girl sitting there while he shot baskets.
Empty.
Gabriel shook it off. “‘Sup, Simon.”
The kid grinned and held out a fist like he had yesterday.
Gabriel hit it. “How was practice?”
Simon lost the smile. His face was flushed from the run, and with the sudden darkness in his eyes, it made him look angry.
“Not good, huh?” said Gabriel.
Simon signed something furiously.
Gabriel frowned. “Dude. I’m sorry, I ”
Simon made a frustrated noise, then a gesture that didn’t need much translation. Forget it. He tossed the ball to Gabriel and turned away.
“Hey,” said Gabriel. Simon kept walking, and it took Gabriel a moment to realize that the other boy couldn’t hear him.
He jogged a few steps and caught him by the arm.
Simon swung around. His eyes were red.
Gabriel fished his cell out of his pocket and held it out.
“Here. Text it.”
Simon’s eyes widened. He took the phone and worked the buttons like his thumbs were on fire.
Then he held it out. Gabriel read.
I can practice, but can’t play. Coach says liability.
Gabriel frowned, but he understood. If Simon couldn’t hear, how could the coach call plays? How could the other kids get his attention on the court? He wouldn’t hear a whistle or the buzzer.
Simon took the phone from him again.
I’m good. Not a liability.
Gabriel smiled.
Simon took the phone a third time.
I just want to play.
Gabriel lost the smile. He understood that.
“You’re good?” he said.
Simon clenched his teeth and nodded.
Gabriel slid the phone into his pocket and tossed the ball back at Simon. “Prove it.”
The kid was faster than Gabriel expected, light on his feet and agile. Fit, too he was all over the court despite just finishing practice. His ball control sucked; Gabriel could tell he was used to getting by with speed. He missed half the shots he took.
At first Gabriel tried calling out pointers but then he remembered again that Simon couldn’t hear him.
Yeah, he saw where the coach was coming from.
Finally, he caught the ball and held his hands in a T. He’d been playing in jeans and a hoodie, and his own hair felt damp.
“You need to slow it down, buddy.”
Simon was breathing hard. He nodded.
“He needs to remember the bus schedule,” said a voice from the bleachers. “We’ve already missed the late one.”
Gabriel turned. Simon didn’t. Layne sat there, a textbook open on the bench beside her, a notebook in her lap.
“How long have you been sitting there?” he said.
She glanced at the watch on her wrist. “Like twenty minutes.”
God, he was baking in this sweatshirt. He swiped a hand across his forehead. “Why didn’t you say something?”
She glanced away, tucking a loose piece of hair back into her braid. “Because Simon never gets to play.”
“So you missed the hey!”
Simon had smacked the ball out from under his arm and was tearing off across the court.
Layne laughed, but then she caught herself and sobered.
They stared at each other across twenty feet of gym floor.
Gabriel pushed the hair back from his face. “You need to go?”
She clicked her pen. “I’ve got nowhere to be.”
Gabriel wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. He couldn’t figure out her tone. It certainly wasn’t friendly.
The ball hit him in the arm. Simon was back, dribbling beside him.
His expression said, We playing or what?
“Go,” said Layne. “Play.”
It sounded like a challenge.
Gabriel grabbed the edge of his sweatshirt and dragged it over his head. Half his T-shirt came with it, but he yanked it down.
When he flung the hoodie onto the bench, Layne was staring at her textbook, the edge of her lip between her teeth.
Her cheeks were bright pink.
It made him think of Michael’s comments.
Stupid. He didn’t need friends. He had his twin brother.
His phone chimed. Speaking of Nick.
Go ahead without me. I’m going home with Quinn.
Of course. Gabriel shoved the phone back in his pocket.
Nick hadn’t even talked to him last night. Usually they did the postmortem when one went out without the other. But maybe Nick didn’t feel like he had to. He’d been with Chris, after all.
Whatever.
Dribble. Shoot.
The ball hit the rim and ricocheted sideways, toward the bleachers.
Gabriel swore and jogged to retrieve it but Layne’s brother stepped out of the shadowed corner by the door and picked it up.
Simon wore basketball shorts and a loose T-shirt, the clothes making him look smaller than he really was. Sweat darkened his shirt and matted his hair at the temples he’d probably been out running. The JV coach always made them run at the end of a practice. Gabriel remembered.
If Simon had stayed late for practice, did that mean Layne was still around?
She’d said her little brother dragged her to all the basketball games last year, so Simon had seen him play. It hadn’t occurred to him until now that it meant Layne had seen him play, too.
He should have apologized. In class. He should have said something.
Yeah, and how would that go? I’m sorry I stopped those douchebags.
He scanned the bleachers, as if he could have missed a lone girl sitting there while he shot baskets.
Empty.
Gabriel shook it off. “‘Sup, Simon.”
The kid grinned and held out a fist like he had yesterday.
Gabriel hit it. “How was practice?”
Simon lost the smile. His face was flushed from the run, and with the sudden darkness in his eyes, it made him look angry.
“Not good, huh?” said Gabriel.
Simon signed something furiously.
Gabriel frowned. “Dude. I’m sorry, I ”
Simon made a frustrated noise, then a gesture that didn’t need much translation. Forget it. He tossed the ball to Gabriel and turned away.
“Hey,” said Gabriel. Simon kept walking, and it took Gabriel a moment to realize that the other boy couldn’t hear him.
He jogged a few steps and caught him by the arm.
Simon swung around. His eyes were red.
Gabriel fished his cell out of his pocket and held it out.
“Here. Text it.”
Simon’s eyes widened. He took the phone and worked the buttons like his thumbs were on fire.
Then he held it out. Gabriel read.
I can practice, but can’t play. Coach says liability.
Gabriel frowned, but he understood. If Simon couldn’t hear, how could the coach call plays? How could the other kids get his attention on the court? He wouldn’t hear a whistle or the buzzer.
Simon took the phone from him again.
I’m good. Not a liability.
Gabriel smiled.
Simon took the phone a third time.
I just want to play.
Gabriel lost the smile. He understood that.
“You’re good?” he said.
Simon clenched his teeth and nodded.
Gabriel slid the phone into his pocket and tossed the ball back at Simon. “Prove it.”
The kid was faster than Gabriel expected, light on his feet and agile. Fit, too he was all over the court despite just finishing practice. His ball control sucked; Gabriel could tell he was used to getting by with speed. He missed half the shots he took.
At first Gabriel tried calling out pointers but then he remembered again that Simon couldn’t hear him.
Yeah, he saw where the coach was coming from.
Finally, he caught the ball and held his hands in a T. He’d been playing in jeans and a hoodie, and his own hair felt damp.
“You need to slow it down, buddy.”
Simon was breathing hard. He nodded.
“He needs to remember the bus schedule,” said a voice from the bleachers. “We’ve already missed the late one.”
Gabriel turned. Simon didn’t. Layne sat there, a textbook open on the bench beside her, a notebook in her lap.
“How long have you been sitting there?” he said.
She glanced at the watch on her wrist. “Like twenty minutes.”
God, he was baking in this sweatshirt. He swiped a hand across his forehead. “Why didn’t you say something?”
She glanced away, tucking a loose piece of hair back into her braid. “Because Simon never gets to play.”
“So you missed the hey!”
Simon had smacked the ball out from under his arm and was tearing off across the court.
Layne laughed, but then she caught herself and sobered.
They stared at each other across twenty feet of gym floor.
Gabriel pushed the hair back from his face. “You need to go?”
She clicked her pen. “I’ve got nowhere to be.”
Gabriel wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. He couldn’t figure out her tone. It certainly wasn’t friendly.
The ball hit him in the arm. Simon was back, dribbling beside him.
His expression said, We playing or what?
“Go,” said Layne. “Play.”
It sounded like a challenge.
Gabriel grabbed the edge of his sweatshirt and dragged it over his head. Half his T-shirt came with it, but he yanked it down.
When he flung the hoodie onto the bench, Layne was staring at her textbook, the edge of her lip between her teeth.
Her cheeks were bright pink.
