“No clue,” was the reply. “But he’s got a sweet shot!”
Hearing the exchange made Julian’s heart soar with hope. Maybe now Coach Boyd would use him more often!
But a split second later, his hopes were dashed. Will and Booker were crouching by the check-in table. At the next whistle, they jumped up and ran onto the court. Julian knew what Will was going to say even as the words were coming out of his mouth.
“Pryce! I’m in for you!” Will called.
As Julian jogged off the floor, he glanced at the game clock. Only three minutes of the third quarter had passed!
Three minutes! That was all?
Alex had come out too. Now he slid up next to Julian. “Awesome shot, man,” he murmured. “Too bad it got you benched.”
Julian looked at him sideways. “I would have passed to Paul if he’d been open!” he replied just as quietly. “But the ball would have been picked off if I’d tried. I had the shot so I took it. Doesn’t the coach think a basket is better than a turnover?”
Alex sighed. “Of course he does. But as far as he’s concerned, the two points you made are two points Paul didn’t make. It’s not about winning the game—it’s about making his son look good.”
Julian drummed his fingers on his legs in frustration. “Well, that’s just flat out wrong.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Alex agreed. “All of us Warriors know. But what can we do about it—except quit?”
Julian shook his head. “Quitting isn’t the answer. He can just replace us with other players. He needs to see that what he’s doing isn’t right if anything is going to change!”
Alex shrugged. “Sure, that’d be great. But the question is, how can we make him see?”
Julian stared out at the court. Players were running up and down, blurs of red and yellow. “If he just wasn’t so focused on Paul all the time, maybe he would see that we’re all pretty good,” he said finally. “But I don’t see how we can possibly change that. Not if Paul stays on the court, anyway!”
16
Julian got back into the game midway through the fourth quarter. By that time, the Warriors were behind by eight points. He got his hands on the ball a few times, but took and made just one shot. When the final buzzer sounded, the Suns had outshone the Warriors, 46 to 40.
Julian followed his teammates through the hand-slap ritual. But instead of joining them in the locker room right away, he hurried to the stands to see Barry. Megan, Barry’s parents, and his parents were there too.
“Hey! Good game!” Barry said.
Julian laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah, right. I’m sorry you came all this way just to see me ride the pine.”
“Okay, so that was lousy. But forget about you.” Barry stood up and held his arms wide. “Check this out! No crutches!”
Julian laughed again, but this time it was with real happiness. “I know! I saw you earlier! That is great!”
“Thanks,” Barry said. “I’m still a long way from rejoining the Tornadoes, but at least I can get around on my own two feet.” But when he tried to climb out of the bleachers, he stumbled. Julian caught him before he fell.
“Rats,” Barry growled. “I thought I could do that. I did it at halftime! Really!”
“He did,” Megan agreed. “I started to help him but he said he wanted to hide the—”
Barry cleared his throat loudly. Megan widened her eyes as if remembering something and stopped talking.
Julian looked from one to the other suspiciously. “He wanted to hide the what?”
“Hide the—the crutches I still have to carry with me,” Barry said. “So, are you going to get your stuff? Your folks invited us to see your new house.”
Julian didn’t move. “Why do I get the impression you two are up to something?”
Megan and Barry shrugged but seemed to be holding back laughter.
“Fine, don’t tell me!” Julian left the stands then to collect his duffel bag. He had stowed it in the seats behind the team bench. There were other bags there too. He was reaching for his when another hand grabbed it first.
“You going to steal my stuff now, just like you steal my points?” Paul hissed.
Julian narrowed his eyes. “Last I checked, points belong to the team, not one player! And this is my bag, not yours!” He wrapped his hands around the duffel’s straps and tried to pull it up from the seat.
Paul abruptly sat on the bag, jerking it out of Julian’s hands as he did. “Dude, I’m telling you, this is mine! Unless your initials changed from J. P. to P. B.?” He pointed to some lettering on the bag’s side that Julian had failed to notice before.
Julian’s face turned hot. “Sorry,” he muttered. He searched the seats and found his own duffel. It was identical to Paul’s, minus the lettering. “My bad.”
Paul stood up and plumped his squashed duffel back into form. Then he swung it over his shoulder and stormed away without another word.
Julian watched him go before hurrying to rejoin his family and friends.
“What was that all about?” Barry asked.
“Nothing important,” Julian answered. “Come on. Let’s get back to my house. I want to grab a shower and forget about this whole stupid afternoon!”
It turned out that Barry and his folks couldn’t come to the Pryce’s house after all.
“It’s a school day tomorrow,” Mr. Streeter reminded Barry when his son protested. “For you and for Julian.”
Mrs. Pryce and Mrs. Streeter looked just as disappointed as their sons. But they promised the boys they’d all get together as soon as possible.
“At least you have something to remember me by,” Barry said in the parking lot.
“What do you mean?” Julian asked, puzzled. Then he laughed. “Oh, if you mean the chocolate peanut butter drops, I’ve already eaten most of them.” He put his hand to his heart. “But I swear I think of you and the guys every time I eat one! Really!”
Barry grinned. “Suuure you do! I wasn’t talking about those drops, though.”
“What were you talking about then?”
Barry waggled his eyebrows. “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure!” He climbed into his parents’ car before Julian could ask him anything more.
Julian waved until the car was out of sight. Then he tossed his duffel bag into the trunk of the Pryce’s car, got into the backseat, and put on his seat belt. “I’m ready to go home,” he said.
Mr. Pryce started the motor and then glanced at him over the seat. “I think that’s the first time any of us have called our new house ‘home.’ Maybe we’re starting to think of it that way at last?” He sounded hopeful.
“Maybe,” Julian said. But he only said it because he knew his father needed to hear it. Deep down, he would have given anything to still be living in their old house, in their old neighborhood—and to be part of the team made up of kids he called friends.
Suddenly, there was a knock on his window. He looked up, startled, to see Alex and Jackson standing there. He pushed the button on his door and the glass rolled down.
“Uh, hey guys, what’s up?”
“We’re going to get some pizza,” Alex said. “Want to come?”
Julian blinked. “I—really?”
Jackson nodded. “Come on, everyone’s hoping you’ll show!”
“Can I, Mom?” Julian asked.
Mrs. Pryce beamed at him. “Sure!” She asked the boys the name of the place and told Julian she’d pick him up there in two hours. “And honey?” she added as Julian got out of the car. “Have fun!”
Julian looked to where Alex and Jackson waited. “Thanks. I think I will!”
17
Julian did have fun with Alex and Jackson at the pizza place. Booker and Skeeter were there too. The five of them shared a large pepperoni pie and played video games. When his mother came to pick him up, he was sorry to leave.
“Hey, I’ll see you at school tomorrow,” he called.
“You had a good time?�
�� Mrs. Pryce asked.
“Yeah. Those guys are pretty cool.”
His mother was quiet for a few minutes. Then she said, “So, you think you’ll survive living here?”
Julian stared out his window at the passing houses. A small smile played around his lips. “I think so. Now that I’ve made a couple of friends—yeah, I think I’ll do just fine here.”
Back home, Mrs. Pryce disappeared into the laundry room. Julian went to his bedroom.
The room didn’t feel quite as strange as it had at first. His books were on his bookshelf, his desk was set up with his computer, and his closet held a lot of his clothes. But one important thing was missing—friends. His old bedroom had been smaller, but it was always big enough for Grady, Barry, and other friends to hang out in.
Julian opened the top drawer of his dresser and plucked the few last Cutler’s candies from the box.
“I’m thinking of you guys,” he whispered.
As he chewed, he looked around his room. He tried to imagine his old friends sitting in it. Instead, someone else came to mind: Alex. It wasn’t surprising, really—Alex had already been there, after all. But it was something more, Julian thought.
Alex had treated him like a friend, right from the start.
A sudden memory struck Julian then. It was the Tornadoes’ first practice. Julian was just realizing that he was the only returning starter when Mick Reiss, the new kid, had come onto the court. Grady had greeted Mick warmly and made him feel welcome. Julian, on the other hand, had refused to have anything to do with him—at first, at least.
Alex treated me just like Grady treated Mick, he thought. And Paul…is treating me just like I treated Mick!
An idea started forming in his mind. He lay down on his bed, crossed his legs, and jogged his foot up and down.
Mick and I are friends now because Grady made me see I was acting like a jerk toward him. Maybe… maybe Alex could do the same with Paul and me. It was worth a shot, he figured.
Julian awoke early the next morning, ate a big breakfast of cereal and toast, and then hurried to school. He caught up with Alex near his locker. But when he started to ask him to help smooth the way with Paul, Alex looked at him in confusion.
“Didn’t you hear? Paul’s in the hospital!”
Julian blinked in surprise. “What? What happened?”
Alex closed his locker with a slam. “He went into anaphylactic shock on the car ride home from the game last night.”
“Ana-what?”
“Anaphylactic shock. Remember how I told you he’s severely allergic to peanuts?”
Julian nodded.
“Well, he must have come into contact with some. His lips and face turned puffy. His skin broke out in itchy red patches. His tongue swelled up and his throat started to close. He couldn’t breathe!”
Julian’s hand crept to his neck. Paul must have been terrified! “Is he okay?”
Alex bit his lip. “It was a pretty bad reaction. But it could have been a whole lot worse. Luckily, Coach Boyd keeps a shot of the medicine Paul needs with him at all times. It’s called epinephrine, I think. The coach gave Paul the shot and then drove him to the emergency room. The doctors are keeping Paul for a day just to be sure he’s all right.”
“Wow. That’s unreal.” He and Alex started walking down the hallway to their first class. “Where did the peanuts come from, anyway?”
“No one knows how he got exposed.” Alex shifted his books from one arm to the other. “Anyway, since you didn’t know about Paul, I’m guessing you didn’t hear that practice is canceled today, either.”
Julian shook his head.
“Jackson and I are going to visit him in the hospital after school,” Alex said. “You want to come?”
Julian hesitated. “You think he’d be okay with that? If you hadn’t noticed, we aren’t the best of buddies!”
Alex smiled. “You’re hoping to change that though, right? Now’s your chance—after all, he’s confined to a hospital bed so he’ll be a captive audience!”
“Well, when you put it that way,” Julian said, laughing, “sure, I’ll come this afternoon.”
18
When Julian walked into Paul’s hospital room later that day, he felt as if he’d been transported back in time. After all, less than three months ago he’d walked into a similar room, to visit Barry. Paul looked a whole lot better than Barry had, however. Barry’s head had been wrapped in gauze, his broken limbs had been encased in plaster casts, and tubes had run into his arms.
Paul, meanwhile, was just hooked up to a single intravenous drip. Yet Julian could tell he had been through an ordeal. There were dark circles under his eyes. His skin looked blotchy. When he spoke, his voice was raspy.
“What’s he doing here?” he asked, jutting his chin in Julian’s direction.
Any sympathy Julian had felt vanished. He turned to leave when Alex stopped him.
“He’s here because he’s your teammate,” Alex replied calmly. “Now stop being a jerk or I’ll have an orderly bring you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch!”
Julian sucked in his breath. He was sure Paul would order them all from the room.
But to his amazement, Paul chuckled. “Been a while since you talked to me that way,” he said.
Alex pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down. “Yeah, well, it’s been a while since you noticed I existed!”
Julian looked from one boy to the other and then tugged Jackson to one side. “Am I missing something here?” he whispered.
Jackson nodded. “Alex and Paul are best friends. Or they used to be, anyway, until Coach Boyd decided Paul was going to be the next NBA superstar. Since then, Paul’s done nothing but play basketball. He never gets to hang out with us anymore. When he’s not at practice, he’s working on his shot. Or he’s lifting weights. Or running on a track. Or downing special protein bars to get big and strong.”
“Wow,” Julian said. “He must really like basketball.”
Jackson shrugged as if to say maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, before wandering over to the bed. Julian hesitated, and then joined the others.
“So did they find out what caused the attack?” Alex was asking Paul.
“My mom did, when she was cleaning out my duffel bag this morning,” Paul answered. “My towel had these weird smudges all over it. Turns out the smudges were made by chocolate and peanut butter.” He laid his head back against his pillow as if he was suddenly exhausted. “I remember wiping my face on the towel on the way home last night. I must have rubbed the peanut butter on me without knowing it.”
“Didn’t you see the smudges?” Jackson asked.
“It was dark in the car,” Paul pointed out.
“How did the candy get in your bag in the first place?” Alex wanted to know.
At that question, Paul shook his head. “Search me. My dad doesn’t allow me to eat candy. So someone else must have stuck it in there.”
“Who would have done that?”
“Search me,” Paul said again. “But it shouldn’t be hard to find out because there was a small white box in my duffel bag, too.” He screwed up his face as if trying to remember. “The box had a name on it—Culbert’s, or Cutter’s, something like that. If we can figure out—”
Julian’s sharp gasp interrupted whatever Paul was going to say. The other boys stared at him.
“What is it?” Jackson asked.
“N-Nothing,” Julian stammered. “I just remembered I have to go somewhere.” He backed out of the room and quickly closed the door. Then he leaned against the wall. His mind was racing.
The box didn’t say Culbert’s or Cutter’s. It said Cutler’s! Chocolate peanut butter drops like the ones he had at home had put Paul in the hospital! But how had the drops gotten into Paul’s bag in the first place? He hadn’t put them there, and he was the only one who knew about Cutler’s and their Triple Chocolate Peanut Butter Drops.
Then his eyes widened. No, I’m not, he though
t. Alex knows about them too. What if he thinks I put the candy in Paul’s duffel so that Paul would get sick?
19
Julian ducked into a nearby bathroom and used his cell phone to call his mother. She promised to pick him up in ten minutes. He spent the time hiding in a bathroom. He didn’t want to risk running into Alex or Jackson. If Alex had remembered about the candy, he might have told Jackson. Then maybe the two of them would come looking for him—to accuse him of sabotaging their star center.
When he got home, he dashed up to his room and pulled open the top drawer of his dresser. He looked inside and sighed with relief. The nearly empty Cutler’s box was still there.
At least I know the box in Paul’s duffel bag wasn’t mine, he thought. He lay down on his bed and laced his fingers behind his head. But it doesn’t clear up the mystery of where that other one came from!
He closed his eyes and envisioned the gym as it had looked the day before. He and the other subs had been sitting on the bench. Their duffel bags were on the seats behind them. Paul’s fan club was nearby. If someone had slipped something into Paul’s duffel, surely they or one of the Warriors would have noticed?
Unless one of Paul’s fans had done it? He dismissed the thought as soon as it entered his brain. Fans didn’t sabotage their favorite players. They wouldn’t have dared with all the Warriors right there, anyway. And since there had always been at least some Warriors there—
Julian sat up abruptly. That’s not true, he realized. There were a few minutes when none of the Warriors were on the bench—halftime! Someone could have easily put the candy in Paul’s bag when we were all at the far end of the gym!
He stood up and paced his room. “Okay,” he muttered, “I’ve figured out the when. But what about the who? And most importantly, the why?”
He picked up the photograph of the Tornadoes from the top of his dresser. He looked from Grady to Mick, and then stopped at Barry. “Too bad you didn’t see anything yesterday,” he said with a sigh.
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