Read Online Box Out by John Coy - Free Book Online Page B

“Darius Buckner. He would have slowed Collinswood down.”
    â€œI heard he’s not coachable.” Mattson bounces the ball.
    â€œMaybe not by Kloss.” Left-hander grabs a rebound. “Maybe it’s time for a new coach.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œKloss can’t lose talent like that in the middle of the season. What he’s doing isn’t working.”
    â€œGive me a break,” Mattson says. “He’s a good coach.”
    â€œWe’ll see.” Left-hander nails another jumper. “If he doesn’t get this group into the playoffs, he’s not a good coach.”
    â€œOkay, fellas. Let’s run.” Dad steps between them.
    Liam watches from the balcony. These guys take Horizon hoops seriously, but he’s still surprised at such direct criticism of Coach Kloss. The guys on varsity might complain about their minutes, but they never question Coach’s position. After all, he’s the coach and he controls who plays and who doesn’t.
    â€œLiam played well.” Mattson stands next to Dad at the free throw line. “He held his own in the second half.”
    â€œHe’s coming along.” Dad drains a free throw.
    Liam scrunches down in his seat so they don’t see him listening.
    â€œIt’s a big step up to varsity in the middle of the season, especially for a sophomore.” Mattson banks a shot off the board as the ref blows his whistle.
    Dad jumps for the opening tip and Mattson controls the ball. He passes it into the post. Dad dribbles once and shoots a right-handed sky hook that rolls in.
    â€œOld school,” Mattson calls. “They can’t stop that.”
    Dad laughs as he runs back on defense. He catches sight of Liam and waves.
    Liam gives him a thumbs up. That was a nice move, but nobody else is here to see it. The over-forty league doesn’t get a lot of spectators. He rubs his eyes and tries to forget about the conversation he didn’t have with Coach.
    Or the one still to come.

11
Uncomfortable
    Behnnnnnnnnnn. Liam wakes to the annoying sound of his phone alarm buzzing on the dresser. He stumbles out of bed and shuts it off. It’s way too early, but since he’s out of bed, he’s up. That’s why he keeps it so far away.
    He shuffles to his computer to see if Mackenzie has e-mailed. More penis-enlargement pills and Mr. Emerson Okambe offering five million dollars to open a bank account for him in the United States. Who’s stupid enough to fall for that? Obviously someone is because they keep sending them. Nothing from Mackenzie. One more day and he’ll e-mail her again.
    He drags himself to the shower and lets the water heat up. He didn’t sleep well. Turning and waking and checking the clock. Not being able to fall back to sleep. He’s more tired now than when he went to bed.
    After a breakfast of Cocoa Puffs, orange juice, and two strawberry Pop-Tarts, he heads outside to clean off the windshield while the car warms up. The ice feels gluedon. He pushes down to a clear spot so he can work the edges.
    Winter is the worst. Uncle Carl, Dad’s brother, always says, “Come down to Tampa. Sun shining. Seventy degrees.” Florida sounds very nice right now.
    Snap. The blade on his scraper breaks. Liam takes his student ID out of his wallet and picks with that. The defroster has softened some of the ice, so he chips away with his tiny face watching him. It’s too strange, so he flips it over.
    In the car, the orange low-gas sign is still on. Why didn’t he fill up last night? That would have been better than having to do it now. He pulls into Shirley’s Gulp and Go and walks inside. Everything is credit card or cash up front now because people have been driving off without paying. He gets stuck at the register behind a couple in matching Arctic Cat jackets buying lottery tickets based on their grandchildren’s birthdays.
    â€œCallie’s the