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  Geez, whatever it is, it must be bad, Austin thought. "Hey, Mom, Rico and I are going to shoot some hoops down at the gym. If it's okay, maybe his mom can bring me home later."

  Karen looked at her son as if he'd lost his mind. "Austin, honey, Rico's got the flu. The last thing he needs is to go down to the gym and get sweaty and winded." Austin implored his mother silently with his eyes.

  Carla reached out and touched Karen's hand. "It'll be okay," she said. "The fresh air and conversation with someone besides his mom will do him some good." Austin noticed that Carla locked eyes with Rico as she okayed their outing. He wasn't sure what that meant, but he knew in his bones that stare spoke volumes without them saying a word.

  "Okay, if you're sure," Karen, said, her eyebrows knitted, "but don't be too late. Dinner is in three hours."

  Chapter 6

  "You're freakin' kidding me!" Austin's jaw dropped after Rico told him of his encounter with Steele.

  The pair had walked from Rico's house to Brennan Street Park, a city-run gym that had baseball and soccer fields on either side. The boys were sitting on a set of nicked up bleachers that pulled out from the wall. The shellac on the bleachers' boards had worn off decades ago. The cavernous room echoed wildly with the bouncing of leather basketballs against the wooden court and the shrieking of tennis shoe soles as players cut left or right in drives toward the basket.

  One of the games finished on the half court nearest Austin and Rico, and one of the players bounced a ball toward them. Rico caught it in both hands. "Hey Pierce. You and Alvarez wanna play?" It was Bobby McAlister. His red tank top drooped heavy with perspiration, the sweat making a scoop shape from his neck a darker crimson than the rest of the shirt. Eric Drew stood behind him breathing heavily from the last game and wiping his face with his shirttail. McAlister nodded to two other boys dragging tail off the floor. "Those guys had all they could stand, and me 'n Eric are just gettin' warmed up."

  "Sure," Austin said. He and Rico bounded off the bleachers, Rico to mid-court, Austin to between the half court line and the top of the key. Rico checked the ball to McAlister who bounced it back.

  "Whoever gets to 30 first wins," McAlister said. Rico nodded and then lifted the ball over his head and slapped it once. Austin broke to the left fielding a bounce pass. McAlister closed. Rico used the two together as a pick, shielding Drew from getting to him. Austin flicked him the ball and then pivoted toward the basket. Rico bounced it between Drew's legs as Austin drove to the hoop with an easy lay up. Two zip.

  McAlister wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "That won't happen again."

  "We'll see," Rico said, his lip curled into an Elvis smile. McAlister checked the ball to him this time. McAlister dribbled it in bounds. He elbowed his way past Austin and passed the ball to Drew. Drew passed it right back, but Rico stood between McAlister and the basket. The boy head-faked, but Rico didn't bite, so McAlister lowered his shoulder and drove right through, knocking Rico onto his back. The sound of leather sliding through nylon meant the ball went through. Two points for Drew and McAlister.

  "Hey!" Rico jumped up and got nose-to-nose with McAlister. "What was that?"

  The boy bumped his way past him saying, "Don't be a wuss."

  The game went on in this way back and forth for twenty minutes. The longer the boys played, and the closer Rico and Austin kept the score, the more physical McAlister got. Austin had known both Drew and McAlister for years. When he'd gone to public school, the three had been in elementary school together. After he entered Grace Christian and then later started homeschooling, Austin had regularly seen both boys at the Brennan Street Gym. McAlister had always been on the aggressive side; not a bully really, but he hated losing at anything, and where rules were concerned, he pushed the limit to win.

  The score stood at 26-24 in favor of Drew and McAlister. Austin had the ball, but Drew had him trapped near the out-of-bounds line in the corner. Rico came over to help, getting a chest high pass. McAlister defended him close, hand-checking him constantly. Austin jogged back to the top of the key and Rico passed him the ball. He spun the ball in his hands and sprung up for the jump shot. It rebounded off the rim and McAlister, Drew, and Rico all went for it simultaneously. Rico came down with it, spun on his heel, and immediately went for a reverse lay up. The other two boys tried to block it, but Rico out-jumped them. As the ball lolled first around the rim and then into the basket, Rico's butt came down on McAlister's shoulder, and he, in turn, fell backward into Drew. Both boys sprawled onto the court.

  Drew rolled onto all fours, the energy of two fast-paced games taking its toll, but McAlister was up and complaining in no time. "Hey," he said grabbing Rico's arm. "That doesn't count. I was set and that was charging."

  Rico pulled his arm away. "Don't be such a wuss," he said in a mocking tone, and then, "It's 26 all. Now are you gonna play or cry about it?"

  The bully marched to the half court line. His face was red, but from the heat of anger, not the game. He checked the ball to Rico and for the fourteenth time during the contest, Rico bounced it back. The ball was pumped so full of air that it made a pinging sound as it bounced off the hardwoods. Rather than passing it off to Drew or dribbling it in, McAlister shoved the ball right at Rico's face. Rico tried to flinch, but he wasn't fast enough. The ball caught him right across the bridge of the nose. He winced and at once tears filled his eyes. He went down to one knee. Austin cringed for a second before he ran over to his friend. Drew stopped, locked in place while McAlister strode leisurely to the basket for a warm-up style lay up.

  McAlister walked near where Rico lay on the court, bent over, and waggled his head side-to-side like a giant bobble-head doll. "Twenty-eight, twenty six," he hissed. "Wanna play or lay on the ground and cry about it.?"

  Austin felt it in slow motion, but still too late to stop himself. As Rico kipped from the floor, Austin, with one roundhouse right, drilled McAlister in the jaw. The boy's head snapped to the side and he crumpled. He got up slowly and now Rico stood between them trying to pull his friend away. Austin glared at the boy.

  "You want some of me, Pierce? I'll give you all you can take." He began charging. Austin tried to meet his rush, but Rico held tight doing his best to push his friend toward the gym door. A circle of boys formed and people started yelling "Fight, fight!" Austin could feel McAlister getting closer and then, suddenly, Rico crumpled to the floor. The boy had sucker punched him in the kidneys to get at Austin. This time Rico's anger boiled over. His legs had buckled with the punch, so he knelt as McAlister tried to walk past him. Then he stood, driving his knee into the boy's gut. As McAlister bent over, Rico caught him with an upper cut. McAlister was screaming profanities by the time the gym director and his staff got to the boys to pull them apart.

  "That's enough!" Austin heard the director shout in a booming voice that reverberated off the walls and halted everyone in place. Someone grabbed him by the arm and he heard someone else say, "Take them to the office." He didn't know what was to happen next, but he knew it wasn't going to be good.

  Chapter 7

  William Pierce and Joseph "Red" McAlister were different in almost every way. William stood about six feet tall and kept in good shape. He had brown hair and an olive tone to his skin. Red, so named because of his light red hair and his fiery temper, sported a beer gut, which, on his five foot, nine inch frame made him look like a pear. From Austin's point of view, they were alike in just one respect–both of them were sitting in the Brennan Street Gym director's office getting read the riot act.

  "I mean we could've called the police. Probably would've been the 'proper' thing to do," the director said drawing imaginary quote marks in the air with his fingers. "But these boys have been coming here since they were little tykes, so if it's all the same we're going to handle this in-house."

  William said nothing. Austin could just see it, the simmering low boil that, once they were alone, would explode into a volcano of What were you thinking? You
don't solve anything by fighting. And then, finally, You're grounded for life! He hung his head. Even with the office door closed, he could still hear the sounds of the gym, sneakers squealing against lacquer, basketballs thudding off of backboards, and voices yelling, "Over here. I'm open." Austin would've given anything to be there instead of in the suffocating confines of Mr. Greco's office.

  "William, I appreciate you taking care of this for Rico, too. His dad called and said he was detained on a work site and couldn't leave," the director said.

  "No problem."

  Short, clipped answers. Not good, Austin thought. His dad depended on salesmanship to get and run his business. That meant talking. When he quit talking, when his "mood barometer" went into silent mode as Austin and Karen said, most often tongue-in-cheek, that was bad. Real bad. Austin shifted in his chair. Rico sat as still as a stone, staring straight ahead. Bobby McAlister picked at his cuticles as if this was just another day at the office, and his dad looked a little bored with the whole affair.

  The director slid three sets of paperwork across his desk. "William, I need you to take this set to Mr. Alvarez and tell him I need it back with his signature. Now the two of you need to sign right here at the bottom acknowledging the boys' suspension from the gym." He handed each father a pen.

  As William leaned forward to take the pen, Austin noticed he couldn't see his father's mouth. It had disappeared into one thin, tense, angry line across his face. Austin hung his head again, shaking it slowly from side to side. Man, oh man, oh man. He's going to chew me a new one. The office smelled like musty old paper, as if the door stayed shut most of the time, and there was no window. Austin wondered if Mr. Greco let fresh air in at all and he started to sweat a little.

  As the men were signing, the director looked at Austin, Rico, and Bobby and said, "Boys, I hate to do this, but we can't have fighting in the gym. Austin, Rico, you are both banned from the premises for six months." Austin's jaw dropped. His heart raced and he felt his skin tingle. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Rico didn't move, and he kept his silent stare. "This paperwork," he said nodding toward his desktop "is a trespassing notice. That means you're not to come into the gym or any of the fields. Understand?"

  Austin felt his father's glare as he recovered only slightly and said a muffled, "Yes, sir." Rico slowly nodded his acknowledgement and bit his upper lip.

  "Now Bobby, this isn't our first time, is it?" the director asked. "And because of that, you're suspended for a year."

  "What?" Bobby yelled and stood from his chair. His father put up his arm to hold him in place.

  "Now wait a minute here," Red shouted, looking at the form as if seeing it for the first time. "It was two on one," he said pointing across the room at Rico and Austin. "You mean to tell me my kid gets jumped by not one, but two other boys and he's the one that gets a year? That's bull. These two assaulted my son! Who's your boss, anyway, John?" As his temper ramped up, Red had inched to the front three inches of his chair and picked up one of the director's business cards to read his name. He flicked it back onto the desk after his rant.

  The director, obviously used to parent rage, kept calm. An ex-college football linebacker, John Greco didn't get intimidated easily. With arched brows and looking directly into Red's eyes, he said, "Mr. McAlister, my boss is the city parks director. And his is the city manager. You can certainly appeal my decision, but I've got a handful of kids in that gym who saw your son's, oh…what's the best way to put it?" Leaning back in his chair, the director crossed his arms, looked toward the ceiling searching for his words, and then aimed his eyes back at Red. "I guess, his increasing aggression and lack of sportsmanship? If you like, I can make them sign statements, have the parks director look them over, maybe even increase the punishment. Who knows?

  "Or I can call the police and have all of this go on Bobby's permanent record. But as I said, I thought we'd handle this in-house." He uncrossed his arms and placed both palms on his desk, arms bent at his elbows. "Like gentlemen." He cocked his head and smiled.

  "Fine." Red spat out the word.

  Austin saw that William hadn't moved during the whole exchange. He'd barely reacted to the verbal exchange between Red and the director. That meant he was mentally formulating the blast Austin was going to get when they were free and clear of everyone else. Austin wondered whether his dad had caught the two-on-one thing or the word "assaulted." Jeez, this was not good. Not good at all.

  The director stood and everyone in the room followed suit. "If there's nothing else…" he said, clasping his hands. "Look fellas, fights happen. It's a part of sports. It shows you're passionate about winning, and that's not a bad thing. But it's a game, and games require the discipline enough to know when the action is over. Now, I want to see all of you back in this gym when your suspensions are up, okay?" All the boys stood still. "When I was a kid and something like this happened, we'd shake hands and then shake it off, but that's up to your dads." He ushered the group out of his office and into the lobby and then headed toward the gym, whistle in hand.

  William looked at Austin and Rico. "Boys?" With slumped shoulders they took a step toward Bobby and reached out limp unconvincing right hands. For the second time Red put his forearm against his son's chest.

  "Hold on a minute, Pierce. My boy gets jumped by two people because he was cuttin' their butt in basketball, and you really expect him to shake their hands? No way that's happenin'. Especially with one of them people." Red nodded in Rico's direction.

  "What do you mean, 'them people?'"

  "I don't need to spell it out for you, Pierce. It's all over the news how they come here and take our jobs, ruin our schools, and use emergency rooms like they was their own personal doctor's office."

  Finally, Rico broke his silence. His nostrils flared and he took a step closer to Red McAlister. "Good thing I'm homeschooled so I don't tax any of your 'worst in the nation' schools. And you know, when I get sick, my mother takes me to the doctor and pays cash for the visit. My dad's an engineer. Are you intelligent enough to be an engineer, Mr. McAlister? If so, then perhaps you are right about my father taking a job from you, but somehow I doubt it."

  Before William could say anything, McAlister's temper burst like a geyser. He put his finger in Rico's face. "You shut your mouth, you bean pickin' little pissant. I got a good mind to take a swipe at you myself." He snarled his words and his body shook with anger.

  Austin took a step toward McAlister. He didn't think. He just spoke. "Go ahead. We'll kick your ass just like we did your son's." The words spilled out of his mouth before he could take them back, and he instantly knew he'd screwed up again. This time he could feel the pulse beating in his temples.

  "That's enough," William shouted. The slow simmer had reached its boiling point. Austin felt his bones turn to jelly and he shrunk back against the wall. "This conversation is over! Rico, Austin, go get in the car."

  The boys walked away silently. After turning the corner, they stopped as they heard Red make another "them people" comment. It was the wrong thing to say to William Pierce at that moment. "Mr. McAlister, I can't make you like or dislike anybody. Personally, I think your comments are rude and ill-informed, but it's not my business and we both have boys to discipline for fighting over a basketball game."

  "Funny," McAlister said. "I never figured you'd be one to associate with them with the kinda work you're in. Ain't that bad for business with everybody sayin' we oughta round up all 12 million of 'em and run 'em out?"

  "Yeah it is kinda funny," William said, "because the way I'm feeling right now, I'd round up 12 million rednecks like you and run you out."

  Austin smiled., Way to go, Dad. The smile faded quickly as he heard his father's footsteps and saw him glaring as he turned the corner. "I told you two to get in the car," he said as he turned his shoulders and kept walking past them.

  Austin didn't fear his punishment–the suspension was nothing compared to what was to come–as much as he feared disappointing h
is father. He was the oldest. He needed to set the example for his brothers and sisters. He'd heard it before. He knew he had a responsibility to uphold. This was going to get worse. As he shut the passenger door to his dad's SUV, he felt it. He knew it. Things would get much, much worse.

  Chapter 8

  Complete silence dominated the interior of the SUV, a silence broken only by the whir of the tires on the road with an occasional chunk as they sped over a pothole repair. When William turned into Rico's driveway, Austin turned to see his friend give him a quick and silent nod. Neither boy said a word as Rico opened the door and got out.

  "Be right back," William said. Short, clipped, one syllable words Austin reminded himself. Rico went inside and Mr. Alvarez appeared on the porch. Austin could see them in the column of light filtering out of the foyer into the gray dusk leaving long shadows on the lawn as the two men spoke. He could see his dad handing over the papers from the gym director and Mr. Alvarez shaking his head. At different moments of the conversation both men held their hands apart as if to say they didn't understand what was going on with their sons. Austin could only imagine their conversation, and he felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

  Carla came to the door and also began speaking to William. She looked toward the SUV and Austin wanted to hide. William drew the conversation to a close, shook hands with Mr. Alvarez, and came back to the SUV, which rocked as he slammed the door closed.

  The quiet of the ride home mirrored that of the ride to Rico's house. Occasionally bright lights from another car made Austin squint. The neon signs for McDonald's and Taco Bell flashed by, then Blockbuster. After a while civilization gave way to the suburbs where the Pierce's lived and Austin wondered if this was the feeling inmates got during their bus ride to prison. His palms sweated and he felt like it may be a while before he saw the inside of a movie rental store or fast food joint again.