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.
Interesting.
Then Simon was throwing him a pass, and the ball was in play.
Gabriel had never been so aware of an audience before. He played harder, feeling her watching him. But when he looked up, her head was always bent over her notebook, her pen moving along the paper.
Oof. The ball hit him in the stomach, hard. Gabriel caught it automatically and glared at Simon. “Dude, what the hell?”
Simon grinned. He pointed at him, then Layne, then signed something.
Layne shot off the bench. “Simon!” She came across the court and smacked him in the arm.
“What did you say?” said Gabriel.
Simon was just laughing silently.
Gabriel glanced at Layne. “What did he say?”
“Nothing.” Her cheeks were red for sure. She grabbed Simon’s arm and tugged, then signed as she walked. “Come on. We’ll call Dad to pick us up on his way home.”
“I can give you a ride,” said Gabriel.
“Don’t be silly. He won’t be more than an hour or so.”
An hour? “That’s stupid. And your brother seriously needs a shower. Let me give you a ride home.”
Simon nodded emphatically, and then signed something.
Layne gave a huge sigh and turned for the bleachers. “Fine.
Whatever.”
While she was packing her things, Gabriel grabbed Simon’s arm and turned
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.
Interesting.
Then Simon was throwing him a pass, and the ball was in play.
Gabriel had never been so aware of an audience before. He played harder, feeling her watching him. But when he looked up, her head was always bent over her notebook, her pen moving along the paper.
Oof. The ball hit him in the stomach, hard. Gabriel caught it automatically and glared at Simon. “Dude, what the hell?”
Simon grinned. He pointed at him, then Layne, then signed something.
Layne shot off the bench. “Simon!” She came across the court and smacked him in the arm.
“What did you say?” said Gabriel.
Simon was just laughing silently.
Gabriel glanced at Layne. “What did he say?”
“Nothing.” Her cheeks were red for sure. She grabbed Simon’s arm and tugged, then signed as she walked. “Come on. We’ll call Dad to pick us up on his way home.”
“I can give you a ride,” said Gabriel.
“Don’t be silly. He won’t be more than an hour or so.”
An hour? “That’s stupid. And your brother seriously needs a shower. Let me give you a ride home.”
Simon nodded emphatically, and then signed something.
Layne gave a huge sigh and turned for the bleachers. “Fine.
Whatever.”
While she was packing her things, Gabriel grabbed Simon’s arm and turned
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