couldn’t remember hearing since . . . forever.
But then Michael stood up, and Gabriel lost the smile. He shouldn’t have mentioned the laptop. Their landscaping business was probably on the brink of collapse since Michael had spent ten minutes not being an asshole. That familiar wall was going to fall back into place between them; Gabriel could feel it.
Michael stopped and turned. “I won’t tell Chris and Nick.”
Gabriel glanced up, surprised. “Thanks.” He paused. “I won’t either. About . . . the other stuff.”
And then Michael was sliding the door open, pushing through, leaving Gabriel alone on the porch. Game over.
But Michael stopped before sliding it closed. “You know, they won’t be home for a while. You want another beer?”
Gabriel smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “I do.”
CHAPTER 8
Gabriel dribbled the basketball a few times and threw, making the basket for an easy three-pointer. He was alone on the court, killing time until Nick was done with whatever after-school do-gooder activity he’d signed up for.
Layne hadn’t said a word to him in class.
Gabriel hadn’t known what to say to her, either.
Dribble, dribble. Shoot.
Basket.
If Nick hadn’t broken his leg, Gabriel would be finishing the soccer season this week. He’d played under his twin brother’s name so he could get around the school’s stupid rule limiting students to playing on two varsity teams per year. Gabriel missed the team, the camaraderie, the physical exertion fed by a common goal.
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
But then Michael stood up, and Gabriel lost the smile. He shouldn’t have mentioned the laptop. Their landscaping business was probably on the brink of collapse since Michael had spent ten minutes not being an asshole. That familiar wall was going to fall back into place between them; Gabriel could feel it.
Michael stopped and turned. “I won’t tell Chris and Nick.”
Gabriel glanced up, surprised. “Thanks.” He paused. “I won’t either. About . . . the other stuff.”
And then Michael was sliding the door open, pushing through, leaving Gabriel alone on the porch. Game over.
But Michael stopped before sliding it closed. “You know, they won’t be home for a while. You want another beer?”
Gabriel smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “I do.”
CHAPTER 8
Gabriel dribbled the basketball a few times and threw, making the basket for an easy three-pointer. He was alone on the court, killing time until Nick was done with whatever after-school do-gooder activity he’d signed up for.
Layne hadn’t said a word to him in class.
Gabriel hadn’t known what to say to her, either.
Dribble, dribble. Shoot.
Basket.
If Nick hadn’t broken his leg, Gabriel would be finishing the soccer season this week. He’d played under his twin brother’s name so he could get around the school’s stupid rule limiting students to playing on two varsity teams per year. Gabriel missed the team, the camaraderie, the physical exertion fed by a common goal.
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
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