by Mike Lupica
“You go first,” she said, looking happier and more excited than he felt.
They had gotten him Xbox Live Gold, both the Lawtons knowing that Jayson liked playing video games more and more now. It was like a whole new world had opened up to him once he’d started playing some of Isaiah’s old games. They’d also gotten him NBA 2K16, and more new clothes, even though Mrs. Lawton had sworn she wasn’t getting him more new clothes.
“I couldn’t help myself,” she said.
Mr. and Mrs. Lawton gave each other their presents next. She had gotten him a new blazer. He gave her a new watch. When they were done thanking and hugging each other, Jayson told them to wait, ran upstairs, and came back with the two presents he’d bought for them with the money he’d been saving up from his chores—the reason he still didn’t have enough money to pay for the sneakers.
He handed the first box to Mr. Lawton. Inside was the tie that Mrs. Lawton had helped him pick out. Mr. Lawton put it around his neck and tied it, even though he was still wearing his bathrobe.
“How do I look?” he said to Jayson.
“In that outfit?” Jayson said.
Mr. Lawton had a goofy smile on his face. “I think I look pretty fly.”
Jayson smiled. Then, feeling a little nervous, he handed Mrs. Lawton the square box that he’d wrapped himself, even sticking one of those little Christmas bows on the top.
She grinned and started to shake it but right away Jayson said, “No!”
“Oops,” she said. “Sorry.”
They were all sitting on the floor next to the tree. She took off the bow and carefully unwrapped the present.
He had found the beautiful horse online. It wasn’t bronze but it looked like bronze, that’s what the description said. He knew it wasn’t as beautiful as the one Mrs. Lawton had made herself, but it was the best he could do.
It was as close as he could come to putting her horse back together.
He had tracked the package all week, right up until it was finally delivered to the Lawtons’ front door. He’d caught a break when the UPS truck showed up, because Mrs. Lawton had been out for a walk. He’d signed for it, wrapped it right away after taking a quick look, and then hidden it under his bed. Feeling in that moment as if it were as valuable as the picture of him with his mom, or his basketball trophies. Only this time, it was something he couldn’t wait to give away. Something he wasn’t trying to shut away in a drawer somewhere, out of view.
Mrs. Lawton didn’t hold it in her hands like it was bronze—she held it like it was made of pure gold.
Her eyes filled up right away.
“I had to put it on Mr. Lawton’s credit card, but I paid him exactly what it cost.”
“That he did,” Mr. Lawton said.
Mrs. Lawton still hadn’t said anything, just sat there with the horse in her hands, staring at it.
“Anyway,” Jayson said, “I hope you like it even though I know it’s nowhere near as nice as the one you made.”
She looked at him and said, “I don’t just like it, Jayson. I love it. Thank you so much.”
It wasn’t her horse. But it would do. And even though the Lawtons’ house still didn’t feel like his home, on this Christmas morning it would definitely do.
26
AS THE BOBCATS KEPT WINNING, stringing together a streak that put their record at 8-2, so did the Moreland East Mavericks.
Jayson wasn’t big into social media, even if just about everybody else was at Belmont Country Day. He wasn’t on Facebook or Twitter, at least not yet, and knew as much about Instagram as he did about riding horses. There was still a big part of him that was afraid that the more he put himself out there, the more exposed he’d be.
He’d spent so much of his life hiding stuff, even at twelve, it was hard to get out of the habit.
But there were enough guys on the team who were into social media, so as soon as the Mavericks won another game, everyone else found out. Before the ’Cats took the court at Belmont to play St. Patrick’s on the second Saturday in January, Bryan looked up from his phone, excited to tell everybody that Weston had just upset Moreland East. Somebody on the Weston team had already tweeted out that Tyrese had missed a shot at the buzzer to win.
“That ought to stop his chirping,” Bryan said.
Jayson shook his head. “Shabazz used to say that the only thing that would be left after a nuclear attack was the sound of Tyrese’s voice.”
“All I know,” Bryan said, “is that if we win today, we’ll have the same record as East Moreland.”
Everybody in the locker room knew that the rematch between the Bobcats and the Mavericks in a few weeks, in the gym at Moreland East Middle, would be the last game of the regular season for both teams.
“Gotta be honest,” Cameron said. “I can’t wait to beat those guys.”
“Let’s just focus on beating the guys we’re playing today first,” Jayson said.
That was all he was thinking about right now. Winning the game they were playing today.
Then, after the game, he would meet up with Zoe in town. She didn’t have a horse show today; she was just riding at her barn while the Belmont–St. Patrick’s game was going on.
Jayson knew all too well that the best player on St. Patrick’s was a sweet-shooting forward named Derrick Bennett, who had moved away from the Jeff when his dad got a job driving for UPS. Derrick was tall and skinny and wore his hero Kevin Durant’s number, 35. He was quiet; Jayson remembered that from the Jeff. But what he remembered even better was Derrick’s game. Derrick could shoot over most of the kids who tried to guard him, because he was so long. But as tall as he was, he was still quick enough to drive past someone who got up too close on him.
Before the game he came over to Jayson and said, “Heard you ended up here.”
“Like you ended up at St. Patrick’s.”
“How’s it going?” Derrick asked.
“It takes some getting used to, but it’s all right, I guess. How about you?”
“I miss balling at the Jeff sometimes, but it’s not too bad.”
“Yeah, I hear that.”
They bumped fists and went back to their own benches. Jayson was smiling as he did.
Not everybody in the world wore you out with conversation.
Derrick showed early on in the game that he could wear out the Belmont Bobcats, though, no matter who tried to guard him. Coach Rooney even switched to a zone defense to see if that would slow Derrick down, but the kid kept on scoring. When the ’Cats were coming out of a time-out in the third quarter, still down ten points, Bryan said to Jayson, “I know you said that guy loves Durant, but I feel like we’re going up against the real thing.”
“He’s only one player,” Jayson said. “Better team still wins.”
Following Coach’s instructions, Jayson had been taking his shots today, and making most of them. But Cameron was missing easy shots that he usually made. Every player had an off game, but Jayson wished that Cameron hadn’t gone cold today with Derrick playing the way he was. It was the offense the ’Cats were getting from Jayson, Rashard, and Bryan that was keeping them in the game. Barely.
It was still 38–30, St. Patrick’s Pistons, with six minutes left in the game. Jayson was pretty sure Derrick had close to thirty points.
Derrick had just gotten a brief rest, but now the Pistons’ coach had called time-out to get him back in there. Jayson ran off the court first, and right to Coach Rooney.
“Put me on Derrick the rest of the game,” he said.
“He’s six inches taller than you.”
“I know,” Jayson said, talking fast. “But they’ve been playing him up top, like a point guard, for most of the second half. Put me on him, Coach. I won’t let him get around me.”
Coach Rooney thought about it, but not for long. Then he smiled. “I like i
t. We’ll play a two-two zone behind you. Cameron and Brandon down low, Rashard and Bryan in front of them. The old box-and-one. And you’re the one, kid. I should’ve thought of it earlier.”
“If it doesn’t work, it’s on me,” Jayson said.
“Nope, it’s on all of us,” Coach Rooney said. “Like always.”
Jayson jogged back onto the court and squared up against Derrick. The St. Patrick’s star looked confused, must’ve been wondering why he was being defended by a point guard who barely reached his shoulders. But he didn’t smile or laugh. He’d seen Jayson play at the Jeff enough times to know not to underestimate him.
And Jayson had been right: Derrick couldn’t get around him, at least not easily. Jayson was too quick, making Derrick really work just to get the ball past midcourt. And when he did manage to work himself down closer to the basket, there were Cameron and Brandon waiting to jam him up. He started forcing shots and missing.
The ’Cats were all over the rebounds, pushing the ball on the break every chance they got, Jayson bringing the ball down the court, dishing it to Rashard and Bryan in the corners. The momentum swung so much that even Cameron began playing like his old self down low. The new defense worked well enough to get them back in the game, at a time when falling behind even more would have been the same as losing.
With two minutes left, Jayson came down the court on a fast break, looking directly ahead like he was going straight for the hoop. Yet he had seen Derrick gaining on him out of the corner of his eye, so he threw a no-look pass to Cameron, who was trailing just a couple of steps behind, and who banked it home. All of a sudden it was 48–48, the first time the game had been tied since the score was 2–2. The only problem? Jayson was exhausted, feeling his legs get heavier and heavier, because of all the work he’d been doing against Derrick on defense. For the first time all season, the kid who never got tired was tired. With a minute and ten seconds left, he grabbed Derrick as Derrick started to make a move around him, a tired foul if there ever was one.
Derrick went to shoot a one-and-one. Jayson put his hands on his knees. Bryan came over to him.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“The reason I’m asking you,” Bryan Campbell said, “is because you don’t look okay.”
“I got enough left to finish these guys off.”
“Let the rest of us help you,” Bryan said. “You can’t rest on defense, but let me bring the ball up, so you can at least get a little rest on offense.”
Jayson looked up and decided to trust his teammate. Let the others get his back, like Cameron had once said. “Okay.”
Derrick made both free throws.
Bryan brought the ball up while Jayson jogged upcourt and went to the wing, letting Bryan take control of the offense. The rest of the Pistons were still eyeballing Jayson, like this was some kind of trick play, because Jayson had been running the offense the whole game.
Only it wasn’t a trick. Cameron came up, set a pick—which got Belmont the defensive switch they wanted—then Cameron rolled off and Bryan lobbed him a pass over the top of the smaller defender. Cameron laid it in and got fouled. The old pick-and-roll, executed to perfection.
Cameron made the free throw.
Bobcats by one, first lead of the game.
Jayson was as happy as if he’d made the pass himself. With the clock ticking, he took a deep breath and picked up Derrick on a full-court press, making the St. Patrick’s player use up nearly all of the ten seconds he was allowed.
Under a minute. Jayson thought Derrick looked a little tired, too. This time, Jayson wasn’t going to have to foul him. Wouldn’t let Derrick get past him. With Jayson jamming him up, not giving him an inch to find a lane, Derrick gave up and forced up a three-pointer, more out of frustration than anything else.
And banked the sucker home.
Jayson couldn’t believe his eyes. Pure luck. But it didn’t change the fact that the Pistons were now up by two, with forty-five seconds left.
As Jayson came past the ’Cats bench, he heard Coach Rooney say, “Quick two if we can get a good look.”
Jayson nodded, and didn’t wait for the high screen this time; instead, he put a sweet head fake on the redheaded kid who’d been guarding him the whole game, beating him cleanly off the dribble. Derrick didn’t get over in time to cut him off, so Jayson blew past the whole Pistons squad for the layup that tied the game again, with thirty-eight seconds left.
The Pistons’ coach couldn’t call time, having used them all already. Which was fine with Jayson, who felt like he had fresh legs again after the breather. He was on Derrick again, continued to press him hard upcourt. Derrick was right-handed and hadn’t tried to go hard to his left all day. Jayson knew he had Bryan behind him. He made a motion with his left hand, telling Bryan to come up out of his spot in the zone and double-team right now.
As Bryan charged forward, Derrick got spooked, and took his eyes off Jayson just long enough for Jayson to take the ball from him.
Not batting it away. Taking it, right off the kid’s dribble, like he could have said, “Thank you very much.” Stole it from under his nose.
With his momentum propelling him forward, Jayson headed toward the sideline. But right before he went out of bounds, he pulled up, kept dribbling the ball inbounds, and tiptoed along the sideline, making one of those quick stops he had always been able to make, no matter where his body was taking him, no matter how fast he’d been going.
He turned toward the Bobcats’ basket and saw there were fifteen seconds left on the clock. He went flying up the left side of the court, Derrick the only Piston back on defense for the moment, having turned and headed to the other end of the court as soon as Jayson had made the steal.
But Bryan had done the same thing, flying alongside Jayson on the right side of the court.
Two-on-one, but not for long.
He figured he could take Derrick again, now that he had him backing up this way, even with Derrick’s height advantage and his long arms.
But he’d already lost one game for his team getting a shot swatted, and he wasn’t going to let that happen again. When he was even with the foul line, still coming from the left, he dropped his shoulder, like he was going to try to take it all the way to the basket.
Derrick bit.
With just enough room to work with, Jayson kept the ball on his left-hand dribble, and somehow managed to lean around Derrick to launch a perfect bounce pass into Bryan’s hands for a layup.
Bobcats up by two.
Three seconds left.
The Pistons rushed down the court to get in position for the final play, no time-outs left to stop the clock. The Pistons’ shooting guard inbounded the ball, threw a desperation pass the length of the court toward Derrick, whose long arms reached up to come down with the ball. But Cameron bodied his way in front of Derrick, and intercepted the ball a second before the buzzer went off.
Ballgame.
Coach Rooney was so excited he leaped off the bench and ran onto the court, hugging his players one by one. “Great steal!” he said when he got to Jayson. “Better pass.”
“If Bryan doesn’t pick me up,” Jayson said, “it doesn’t matter.”
They had been a complete team today. And this time a teammate had made Jayson better.
27
MR. LAWTON WAS PLAYING GOLF. Mrs. Lawton had a lunch date in Percy with a friend she’d gone to school with at Moreland Middle, so she dropped Jayson off in town earlier than he was supposed to meet Zoe.
“What do you two plan to do?” Mrs. Lawton said in the car.
“Just eat and maybe hang out after,” Jayson said. “Zoe’ll probably decide.”
“So Zoe calls the shots?” she asked, smiling so that Jayson knew she was joking.
“Pretty much.”
“Shocker,” she said. “I’m sure
you’ll have fun.”
“I don’t think she’ll give me a choice,” Jayson said.
Jayson looked at his phone when he got out of the car. He still had an hour before he was scheduled to meet Zoe at the Elm Street Diner, with its long counter and booths and the best burgers and shakes in the downtown area.
The sun was out and it felt more like a cool spring day than winter, with a lot of people out walking around. Jayson decided to do the same, realizing something as he headed up Main Street: He was smiling.
Thinking back on the game, he felt good about the way the team had played, the way he’d played, the way they were coming together, the way that pass had felt and the steal right before it. He felt good about playing through fatigue the way he had. You heard all the time in sports about how you were supposed to leave it all on the court. He knew he’d given every ounce of himself today. And he’d had enough left at the end to help his team win the game, after his team had helped him.
You couldn’t ask for much more than that.
Main Street was a long block. He walked up one side of it and then down the other. Now that the Christmas shopping season had been over for a couple of weeks, many of the store windows had “Sale” signs in them.
He looked in some of those windows, just killing time, not recognizing anybody from school on the street. But as he walked, he couldn’t help thinking about the last time he’d walked a downtown street like this, that Saturday afternoon in Percy, the one that ended up changing his whole life. He wasn’t window shopping that day, just deciding about his escape route after he’d stolen the shoes.
But what if he hadn’t done it?
What if he’d just chickened out that day? If he’d been too afraid to go through with it? It would’ve been nothing new—he’d spent so much time being afraid, living alone, even if he didn’t like to admit that to himself. He’d especially been afraid of being caught and ending up in foster care. Or maybe he’d really been afraid of not being caught.
What if the fear of getting caught had made him change his mind, had made him just get back on a bus and head home to the Pines? How long would he have been able to stay ahead of Child Protective Services?