Box Out

by John Coy

  Monday afternoon, the wind bites as Liam hikes across the parking lot. He ducks his head and covers his face with a glove. When’s it ever going to warm up?

  Inside the car, he turns the key and shifts into drive. Falump. Falump. Sounds like he’s run over a piece of metal. Falump. He pulls over and checks the tires. The driver’s side looks fine, but the front passenger-side tire is totally flat. What lousy timing.

  He hauls the jack and the spare from the trunk. The metal jack is freezing. He sets it in place and pumps the handle. He pushes on the tire iron, but the lug nuts won’t budge. It’s probably been a long time since they’ve been off, and the cold makes everything harder. He scans the parking lot for help, but nobody is around. There’s a can of WD-40 in the emergency kit in the trunk. He shakes the can and sprays it on the lug nuts. He grabs the tire iron and presses with all his strength. Nothing.

  He sprays more WD-40 and gives it time to soak in. He jumps from one foot to the other, trying to stay warm as the sun drops down behind a cloud. What a pain.

  When he leans on the tire iron again, the nut slowly shifts, and he pushes with all his strength. He repeats the steps with the other three nuts and then removes the flat. He grabs the spare, lifts it on, and tightens it in place.

  J & S Auto is still open, so he pulls in and shows the flat to Steve, the mechanic. “Can you fix this? I must have picked up a nail.”

  Steve rolls the tire around and finds a half-inch gash. “You see this? That’s no nail. That’s a knife slash. Any idea who’d do that to you? Is someone out to get you?”

  “Yeah,” Liam says. “But don’t say anything about it to my dad.”

  When Liam walks onto the floor for practice, something’s different. People are speaking softly and Iris has her arm around Chloe, who’s wiping away tears.

  Liam grabs a ball from the metal cage and dribbles down to Darius. “What’s up?”

  “Chloe broke up with Pelke.” Darius shoots an off-balance jumper. “She caught him making out with Trisha Norwood by the pool. She’s taking it hard.”

  Liam banks a shot in off the glass. Taking it hard. How else can you take it?

  “He’s a jerk,” Jessica says to Chloe. “You’re better off without him. You deserve somebody decent.”

  Chloe’s still crying, so Jessica flexes her biceps to make her Scooby tattoo talk. “Ruh-roh. Bad behavior by Pelke. Rokay. Time to move on.” It’s a good Scooby voice and Chloe laughs through her tears.

  Liam’s shot bounces hard off the rim and rolls down toward Chloe. He chases after it and detours over to her. “Sorry, Chloe.”

  “Yeah.” She tries to smile.

  “As bad as it feels, it will get easier.” He sounds like Dr. Phil. “Keep putting one foot in front of the other.”

  “Thanks, Liam.” She dries her eyes on the sleeve of her jersey.

  At the next hoop Leah and Iris are warming up. “How’s Shea doing?” Leah bounces two balls at the same time.

  “Still struggling.” Iris misses a left-handed layup.

  Liam turns to Chloe. “Who’s Shea?” Maybe talking about someone else will help.

  “Shea Donnelly. She started on varsity last year.” Chloe rubs her nose and sniffles. “She’s a great post player, and she and Iris are close.” Chloe tosses a shot from the lane and Liam rebounds. “Her dad got this super important job with FedEx and they moved to Memphis over the summer. Shea hates it there. We all wish she was back here, especially Iris.” Chloe shoots from the side. “As well as we’re playing, we’d be better with Shea.”

  “Wow.” Liam rebounds the miss. “It’s hard to imagine this team being even better.”

  At the end of practice, everybody shoots free throws, and Liam partners with Iris. He bounces the ball and positions his feet. He likes this smaller ball. It makes his hands feel bigger, makes him feel bigger. His shot rolls in to make him fourteen of twenty, and he switches places with Iris.

  “What’s yours, Darius?” Jessica is going around asking everybody’s middle name.

  “James.” He swishes his shot.

  “What about you, Iris?”

  “Marie.” Her shot rims out. “My grandma’s name.”

  “How about you, Liam?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “What?” Jessica looks surprised.

  “It’s a family name on my dad’s side.” Liam rebounds another miss by Iris.

  “Well, lots of these are family names,” Jessica says.

  “Tell us.” Chloe joins in. “Now we’re curious.”

  “Pass.”

  “How bad can it be?” Darius asks.

  “Bad.” Liam chases down another miss.

  “Iris, let’s try something.” Jack steps in and holds out his hands. “Sometimes it’s helpful to mix things up.”

  She passes the ball to him.

  “You don’t have to shoot from here.” Jack stands at the line straight out from the hoop. “Everybody does because it’s the shortest distance. But you can actually shoot from anywhere in the circle behind the line.”

  Jack fires from two feet behind the line and makes it. He’s got a smooth shot. Liam rebounds the ball and throws it back. Jack moves over to the right side of the line and bounces the ball. “I played with a guy in college who shot his free throws from here. He didn’t feel comfortable straight on, so he switched to the side and became a better free throw shooter. Try it.”

  Iris goes to the right side, just inside where the line meets the circle. Her shot goes in. Liam passes the ball back. Her second shot hits the front of the rim, bounces up, and falls off. “That would have gone in if I was shooting straight on,” she says.

  “Maybe,” Jack says, “but you’re shooting from this spot now. Relax into it and make the shot.”

  Iris aims and hits her third shot. “I kind of like it.”

  “Shoot from here for a while and see what happens.” Jack moves to the next hoop to talk with Chloe. He says something and she laughs.

  Iris swishes another one. “It’s strange. I do feel more comfortable here.” She passes the ball to Liam. “Try it.”

  He goes to the side. It’s like shooting from Thailand in Around the World. That’s always been one of his best shots. He makes the first one. “I like it, too,” he says. “I didn’t know you could shoot from here.”

  “Me neither.” Iris passes the ball. “That’s why Jack’s the coach.”

  When everybody finishes free throws, Jack carries out a cardboard box. “At the start of the year, you got prose,” he says. “For the playoffs, you get poetry.” He reads out names and passes out books.

  Liam looks around. Poetry at basketball practice? What’s next? Knitting? Sharing feelings in a circle? Why aren’t people complaining? He tries to catch Darius’s eye, but he’s talking to Leah.

  “Liam.” Jack gives him a book, and Liam studies the Post-it note.

  Inscriptions—One’s Self I Sing, page 5

  Song of Myself—pages 25 to 68

  “These books are for you to keep,” Jack says. “Read them. Write in them. Think about them. I want you to memorize a poem, a section of a poem, or some lines that mean something to you. I’ll meet with each of you in two weeks to talk about it.”

  Liam studies the green cover. Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman. Homework at basketball practice. Whoever heard of that? He walks over to Darius, who’s paging through his book. “What did you get?”

  “American Sublime by Elizabeth Alexander,” Darius says. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “I’ve never heard of Leaves of Grass.” Liam opens the book to a picture of a man with a long white beard. Why did Jack choose this book for him? It’s like unwrapping a gift from your parents and not knowing if it’s something you want or something they think you need.

  23

  Make a Move

  Since he’s not working at Shoe Source on Saturdays anymore, Liam swings by the nursing home. He doesn’t miss working with Drake and Pelke, but he go
t fired before he got to use his discount. He didn’t even get new shoes out of the deal. He knocks gently on Grandma’s door in case she’s taking her afternoon nap.

  “Yes,” she says weakly.

  “It’s me. Liam.” He walks to the chair where Grandma sits in the sunlight.

  “Liam.” Grandma stares at him. Her straight gray hair is pulled back neatly and she’s wearing her dark blue dress with the yellow flowers.

  “Here are some cookies Mom made.” He holds out the tin.

  “Liam,” she says again.

  He opens the lid and lets her see them. “Rosettes, your favorite.”

  “Loverly.” Grandma picks one out. “Help yourself.”

  Liam lifts a butterfly-shaped cookie and takes a bite. A piece crumbles and he catches it against his shirt.

  Grandma slowly takes a nibble. “Mmmm.”

  Liam sits down in the recliner and watches Grandma take tiny bites. Father Connell talks about love and humility. That’s Grandma. She’s never had loads of money, but she always contributes to Habitat for Humanity and famine relief. She helps out when people are in trouble and never calls attention to it. That’s the way she lives her life.

  They sit in silence for a while. Grandma seems more alert today. Sometimes she doesn’t remember things from the present well, but she’s clearer about the past, like when she was young. “Grandma, what was school like when you were a girl?”

  “Oh, that’s so long ago.” She looks like she’s surprised. “I didn’t speak English, only Swedish.”

  Liam leans forward to hear her raspy voice. “I know.”

  “My first day I sat next to Anna Norby.” Grandma speaks slowly. “The teacher said something and Anna and the other students laughed. When I got home I told my mother that I sat next to Anna and everything was in English.” Grandma sets her cookie down. “My mother asked if Anna could speak English. I said, ‘I don’t know, but she can laugh in English.’ I meant she understood the joke, but my mother thought what I said was so funny.”

  Liam licks sugar off his fingers. He’s so glad Grandma is still able to tell one of her stories.

  “Your dad was here this morning. He said you took a stand against your coach.” Grandma takes a sip of water.

  Liam wipes his hands on his jeans. Megan said she’d let him know Craney’s response. What’s taking so long?

  “Your dad said he was proud.”

  Liam looks up. Proud? Dad didn’t tell him that.

  “Good for you.” Grandma holds out her wrinkled hand.

  Liam squeezes it gently. “Thanks, Grams.”

  At the regional final, Horizon’s up by fifteen. Jessica’s dominating inside. Leah’s making good decisions, and Iris is demanding the ball on the block and making strong moves.

  Jack sits on the bench with his hands folded and legs crossed. Compared to most coaches, he doesn’t say much during games. He lets the players play. He doesn’t even call many time-outs. He lets the players figure it out and work through it.

  Liam leans over to Darius. “They look good.”

  “It’s going to get tougher. We have to beat them in practice to get them ready.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Liam says, though he wasn’t. He was thinking how smoothly Iris moves and how great she looks. She anticipates a pass and reaches for a steal. “You’re in art with Iris, aren’t you?” He tries to sound casual.

  “Yeah.”

  “How well do you know her?”

  “Some. She’s kind of shy.”

  “I know.” Liam clears his throat. “Does she have a boyfriend?”

  “Iris?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No.” Darius shakes his head. “No boyfriend.”

  Liam watches her grab another rebound and pass to Leah. No boyfriend—just what he was hoping to hear. Leah makes a smooth move and goes in for a layup. Liam and Darius stand and clap.

  “Where’s Leah going to school next year?”

  “Princeton, Columbia, or Brown,” Darius says. “Her mom wants Princeton. Her dad wants Columbia. Leah likes Brown. Bet on Brown.”

  Liam watches her sprint back on defense. Those are the types of choices Mom dreams about. She’d give anything for a kid like that. He scans the crowded arena and remembers the half-filled gym of the boys’ games. He turns to Darius. “Do you ever miss playing with the guys?”

  “What guys?”

  “The boys’ varsity.”

  “Nah. That wasn’t real basketball. I play pickup over at the B-CAB. Two of the guys are out of town for a wedding this weekend. We could use another body. Can you play tomorrow at noon?”

  “Sure.” College guys will be a step up, but after sitting and watching tonight, he’s ready for some action.

  “So if you’re going to run with us, I need to know one thing,” Darius says.

  “Yeah?”

  “What’s your middle name anyway?”

  Liam rubs his forehead. “Norbert.”

  “You’re right,” Darius says. “That’s bad.”

  When Liam arrives at the gym, seven players are pushing under the hoop in an intense game of twenty-one. He checks them out as he puts on his shoes. Darius and two other black guys and four white guys. Most of them are built like football players.

  Liam ties his shoes tightly. Darius should come over, but he’s focused on the game. Liam walks slowly across the empty floor toward the hoop.

  “Six.” Darius shoots from the arc and makes it. “Seven.” He makes it again. “Eight.” He finally sees Liam. “Hey, everybody, this is Liam. He’s going to run with us today.”

  “Hey,” a few guys say.

  Liam moves to the free throw line. Twenty-one has never been his game because it’s everybody against the guy with the ball. You need to have good moves to get a shot off.

  “Darius is high with eight,” a guy with a full beard says. “Straight up.”

  Darius drives baseline and gets smacked on the head. He doesn’t call a foul or complain, but jumps out on defense on the guy who hit him. He slaps at the ball and it bounces to Liam. Straight up means he can go right up with it, but two defenders close fast, and he’s afraid they’ll block his shot. He dribbles the ball to the arc and hesitates.

  A short white guy jumps out. “Let’s see what you got.”

  Liam crosses over on his dribble, but the guy strips him cleanly. Liam retreats under the basket. Players muscle for position, yank rebounds, and slap the ball away from each other. Liam doesn’t have a single point by the time Darius hits twelve.

  “Thirteen,” Darius calls as his shot falls through. Liam positions himself to the left of the basket. He needs to be more aggressive. Darius’s shot bounces up and hits the rim twice. Liam times his jump and grabs the rebound. He turns to shoot a fadeaway and the ball banks in off the board.

  “Nice hoop,” Darius calls.

  Liam moves to the top of the key. This is the other reason he doesn’t like twenty-one. Everybody watches while you shoot. He bounces the ball once and launches it. The ball hits the front of the rim and falls short.

  Three guys crash together and one taps the ball out. Darius seizes it and goes up for a shot. A guy hits him hard on the wrist. “That’s what happens when you have the lead.”

  An older black man with dreads gives Darius a shove. Darius laughs and pushes back. Liam grabs another rebound and forces up an awkward runner that’s not even close.

  Darius fakes two guys off their feet and hits a jumper for twenty-one. As winner, he picks first for teams. He takes Liam second, and Liam’s relieved not to be picked last.

  “Liam, this is Cadillac.” Darius stands next to the older guy with dreads. “Feed him the ball and good things will happen.”

  “I’m Sully.” A white guy with a mustache slaps Liam’s hand.

  “If you pass it to Sully, you won’t get it back.” Darius dribbles over to him.

  “Same with Arius.” Sully steals the ball from Darius. “Arius because there’s no
D in his game. He’s always looking to shoot.”

  Perfect. With three shooters, Liam can concentrate on defense and rebounding. He passes to Cadillac to start the game. Cadillac turns and shoots. One-nothing. This is going to be easy.

  Liam guards his guy. He’s a few inches shorter but built like a tank. Liam boxes him out, and Cadillac grabs the rebound and finds Sully.

  Sully streaks downcourt and looks for his shot. He’s cut off, so he passes to Darius, who finds Liam in the post. Liam passes to Sully, who shoots and misses.

  “Go at your guy,” Darius says. “You’ve got a height advantage. Shoot over the top of him.”

  Next time down, Darius passes to Liam again. Why doesn’t Darius feed Cadillac like he said? Liam’s defender elbows him in the back, and Liam looks to pass it back to Darius. He hesitates and the ball is knocked loose.

  “C’mon, Liam. Make a move!” Darius shouts.

  Liam posts up underneath. Darius wants him to improve his offense, but he doesn’t need to point it out in front of everybody.

  “Foul,” Sully calls on a drive.

  “What?” The guy with the beard gets in his face. “No blood. No foul.”

  “My call,” Sully shoots back.

  “That’s weak, man. You lost the ball on the way up.”

  Liam waits for somebody to break up the argument, but nobody does.

  “Show some game,” Beard Guy challenges.

  “Give me the ball.” Sully pushes past his guy and goes right at Beard Guy.

  “You got nothing,” Beard Guy says.

  “Yeah? Stop this.” Sully jab-steps, then moves back for a three.

  Beard Guy leaps and gets a piece of the shot. “Nothing,” he hollers.

  Darius grabs the loose ball and fires a pass to Liam. “Go at him.”

  After school on Monday, Liam spots Drake walking to his Mustang. For once he’s by himself, not with his pack. Liam jumps over puddles from the melting snow as he jogs to catch up with him. “Drake.”

  Drake whirls around. “What do you want?”

  “You.” Liam points.

  “What do you mean?”