though a growth spurt would hit me the minute I stepped on the court.

“Names?” asked Clingon.

“Wills is the tall one, and Chris is the short one,” said Dad, just to make me feel really good.

“First time at basketball?”

Wills and I both nodded.

“Let’s see what you can do, then.”

Clingon called all the boys together and ran through the basic rules for those of us who were “rookies.” Then he made us do all sorts of practice drills, like dribbling the ball and passing to each other. I was hopeless at running and bouncing the ball at the same time. My feet kept getting in the way of the bounce, sending the ball across the court into the paths of other dribblers, who didn’t seem to have a problem, until I spoiled things for them. Wills leapt around, whooping wildly, getting in everyone’s way, but with the ball bouncing straight back up to his hand as though it were attached by a piece of elastic. Clingon kept shouting at him to quiet down, but Wills was enjoying himself and didn’t seem to notice the mayhem he was causing. Clingon went over and spoke to Dad. Dad must have explained about Wills’s Acts Dumb and Dumber, because Clingon called Wills over and talked to him for ages, before patting him on the back and telling everyone to gather round.

He picked two teams and told the rest—including me—to sit at the side until he changed us in. Dad gave me a thumbs-up from the other side of the court, but I didn’t feel like thumbsing-him up back because I wanted to go home: to his home or Mom’s home, I didn’t care which. I just didn’t want the embarrassment of being the last one to be picked, especially since Wills was in one of the starting teams as a shooter.

“Is that your brother?” the boy sitting next to me asked suddenly. He was pointing to Wills, who was pulling gruesome faces at the boy who had the ball, and was trying to get past him.

“Yes,” I muttered.

“He’s a bit of a psycho, isn’t he?” the boy grimaced.

“He gets a bit excited, that’s all,” I said.

“Wow, I bet he’s a pain to live with,” the boy continued, as Wills stuck out his foot and tripped up another of the players.

“Sometimes,” I nodded. “Not all the time.”

“He’d better watch it. Clingon doesn’t put up with any crap.”

Just as he said it, Clingon grabbed Wills by the elbow and pulled him off the court. “Take over, T.J.,” he shouted to the boy next to me. He hauled Wills right over to the far end of the hall. I could tell by the way he jabbed his fingers at Wills’s face that Wills was in big trouble, and getting punished. Dad sat on the edge of his seat, watching anxiously, and looking over to me every so often.

When he had finished, Clingon pushed Wills back on court and took another boy off. Whatever he had said worked. Wills was still awkward and sprawly legged, but he wasn’t so psycho and he didn’t deliberately try to push people over or yell like a lunatic.

I hoped Clingon had forgotten about me, but he suddenly shouted for me to take over in defense. I wanted to be a shooter even though I knew I was too small. Wills was a shooter for the other team and I wound up having to mark him, which wasn’t fair because he could just reach over the top of me, which he did, patting me on the head at the same time.

“Great basket,” yelled Clingon as Wills got away from me yet again. “Try blocking him off before he gets into a scoring position, Chris.”

I nodded but thought, Easier said than done. Wills was running rings around me, literally. The only time I managed to get the ball from him, I tripped over his great big feet and gave it away again. I felt like there was only me and Wills on the court, and that it was a battle between just the two of us. But at last Clingon took Wills off and moved me into a position where I had to feed the forwards. I did all right then, well, all right-ish, and Wills and Dad yelled encouragement from the side, but I was certain I wouldn’t be picked for the team if there was a game, and I was certain Wills would be if he could behave himself.

On the way home—Mom’s home—Wills didn’t stop going on about the baskets he had scored and what an amazing game basketball was. He said he couldn’t wait to play again and asked if we were going to stay at Dad’s the following Sunday. Dad didn’t know, so Wills begged him and begged him, but I didn’t know where I wanted to be next Sunday because I was worried about Mom now and I was desperate to get back home.

Mom was already waving at us from the front door as we got out of the car. Wills beat me to her. He gave her a big hug and wouldn’t let her go. Then he pulled away and told her that we would have to stay at Dad’s the following weekend because of basketball. I gave her a hug and said that I would stay with her if she didn’t want me to go, but then I was worried about Dad’s feelings. Dad said he would talk with Mom and that they would decide between them. He pecked her awkwardly on the cheek again, ruffled my hair, and pushed Wills playfully in the chest. Then he walked quickly down the path, jumped into his car, and drove away.

Chapter Six

We don’t go to Dad’s every weekend. Mom doesn’t want us to because she misses us, and I don’t think Dad wants us to because when we’re not there he can be neat and tidy and quiet. Wills went berserk when Mom explained that we wouldn’t be able

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