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asked, again catching him off-guard.
    Jesse wasn’t sure if he could trust TJ with his secrets, but he didn’t appear to be the snitching type. Bending his head toward him, Jesse said softly, “If I tell you, will you promise not to tell my father?”
    TJ raised three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
    â€œOkay . . . once.”
    TJ sat his elbow on the table and propped his chin on his fist. “Well, don’t just sit there, Jesse. Give me the details.”
    Jesse looked around, wondering if anyone could hear him. Then he cleared his throat. “My uncle Larry had a birthday party at his house one night. There was an ice chest full of beer in the kitchen, so my cousin Monty and I . . . ”
    â€œY’all ready to order?”
    Jesse gasped. The waitress’ voice almost jolted him out of his seat. She smiled, realizing she had startled him.
    TJ gave the menu a quick read. “Pepperoni sound good to you, Jesse?”
    â€œSure. And I’ll have a Coke.”
    TJ ordered a large pizza, a Coke and a beer.
    After the waitress left, Jesse finished telling TJ the story of his first drinking experience.
    â€œA man should be able to have a beer if he wants,” TJ said. “As long as he drinks responsibly.”
    Jesse agreed, except that legally, the State of Texas didn’t recognize him as a “man.” Their conversation soon turned to football.
    â€œThat doesn’t make any sense,” TJ said when Jesse explained why Coach Blaylock wouldn’t let him play. “You aren’t gonna get better by standing on the sidelines. Look, Jesse, I play a jobber on ACW, right? But at least I get to wrestle. I can’t learn my craft by standing at ringside, with my hands in my pockets. I’ve gotta step inside the ropes, even if I have to go up against guys like Solomon Grimm, who like to wrestle stiff.” TJ rubbed his chest, as if he could still feel the effects of Grimm’s brutal chops.
    The waitress returned with their drinks.
    TJ took a sip of his beer and continued. “The problem with your team, Jesse, is that it has no sense of unity. There’s no discipline. First of all, you’ve got the screamer, who’s allowed to pitch his little tantrums. Second, you’ve got a coach who doesn’t know how to rotate his players. Sure, you’ve got an okay record, but if your team is serious about winning a state title, it’s gotta fix those things.”
    Jesse nodded. There was nothing TJ told him that he didn’t already know. “It doesn’t matter, TJ, because I’m not planning to play football next year.”
    Jesse ripped the paper off his straw and wadded it up. If he had been with the guys, he might have pulled the paper down from the straw like an accordion. Then he would have sat the paper on the table, poured a couple of drops of Coke on it and watched it expand. Jesse’s father had shown him that trick. He called it the “worm.” But at the moment, it seemed like a dumb, childish thing to do.
    TJ took another drink. “Don’t be so quick to give up on football, Jesse. Lots of things can happen between now and next season. I mean, look at you. You’re still growing. How much do you bench press?”
    â€œI don’t know. About one eighty-five, one ninety.”
    â€œNot bad. Does your school have a pretty good workout facility?”
    â€œYeah, I guess,” Jesse said. “Nothing fancy, but it’s all right.”
    TJ downed the last of his beer. He lifted his glass and motioned for the waitress to bring him another one. “The Brookstone Apartments where I live has a great gym with state-of-the-art equipment,” he said. “After we finish eating, I’ll take you there to show it to you.”
    Jesse could tell that TJ spent a lot of time working out. TJ stood six-three and weighed two-hundred forty pounds, but he was all muscle. He had a thick chest and huge