Box Out (13 page)

“Let's talk about
Leaves of Grass.
” Jack sits next to Liam on the bleachers while the rest of the team shoots free throws.

“It was hard at first,” Liam says. “The old-fashioned language was confusing, and I didn't get what it was supposed to symbol—”

“Looking for symbols is one of the worst things to do with poetry,” Jack interrupts. “Start with the language, the sounds, how the words go together, what you like about it.”

Liam stretches out his legs. “I like Whitman's lists of the different people he feels connected to. He feels connected to everybody, everything, including animals and nature.”

“Yes.” Jack smiles.

Liam flips to a passage he's highlighted and reads:

I hear bravuras of birds, bustle of growing wheat, gossip of flames, clack of sticks cooking my meals,

I hear the sound I love, the sound of the human voice,

I hear all sounds running together, combined, fused or following,

Sounds of the city and sounds out of the city, sounds of the day and night.

“Beautiful,” Jack says.

“I also like it when he talks about animals.” Liam finds that section and reads:

I think I could turn and live with animals, they're so placid and self-contain'd,

I stand and look at them long and long.

They do not sweat and whine about their condition.

“True,” Jack says. “What lines did you memorize?”

Liam shuts his book and begins:

But each man and each woman of you I lead upon a knoll,

My left hand hooking you round the waist,

My right hand pointing to landscapes of continents and the public road.

Not I, not any one else can travel that road for you,

You must travel it for yourself.

“Exactly.” Jack beams. “That's Whitman. It's your road, Liam.”

Liam nods as balls echo and shoes squeak. Whitman pays attention to everything. What would he notice here? The colors of the jerseys, the sounds of the balls going through the nets, the connectedness of everyone on the team working together.

“Liam, this is for you.” Jack reaches into a cloth bag and takes out a wooden box.

Liam lifts the lid and pushes aside newspaper. He uncovers a ceramic bowl with a gray-green glaze. The smooth shape looks like the shell of a turtle. “Wow.”

“It's a celadon bowl, the piece I was making when you agreed to be on the team.”

“It's beautiful.” Liam turns the bowl over. “Thanks, Jack.”

“Thank you, Liam, for saying yes.” He holds out his hand and Liam shakes it.

Liam sets the bowl gently in the box and places it underneath the bleachers to protect it. He walks back onto the court to join his teammates.
My road. Not Mom's. Not Dad's. Not Mackenzie's. Not Jack's. Not Whitman's. My road.

“What do you got, Old Man?” Darius challenges Sully as he bounces the ball between his legs at the B-CAB.

“I'll shut you down.” Sully crowds close.

Darius jab-steps, fakes a jumper, and drives to the hoop. Sully chases after and pushes Darius as the shot rolls off.

Liam grabs the rebound and goes right back up. Cadillac hits him on the shoulder, but Liam plays through it. You don't call a foul in this game.

Darius's hook shot rolls off, and Liam slides past Cadillac for the rebound. He fakes and gets Cadillac in the air before spinning the other way.

“Strong move, Norbert.”

Liam grabs the ball. There's no way he's going to get Darius to stop using his middle name. “Eleven.” He shoots from the arc. “Twelve.” He's been practicing shooting just for this. “Thirteen.” He misses the next one and Darius picks up the long rebound. Liam hops out to defend him.

“Let's go.” Darius bounces the ball and then goes up for a shot. Liam leaps for the fake, and Darius ducks under and banks it off the board.

“Banking Around the World, Norbert.” He raises his arms.

In the game, Darius feeds Liam inside. Liam makes a move to the hoop and is double-teamed, so he kicks a pass back to Darius, who drains it. Making a move opens space for Darius to score. The game isn't that complicated.

Liam rushes to his locker after school Friday. No teachers for two days. On his phone, there's a missed call from area code 202. Where's that? He returns the call.

“Hello, Americans United for Separation of Church and State. Megan speaking.”

“Megan. This is Liam. How are you?”

“Great, and I've got some excellent news.”

“What?” Liam plugs his ear to hear over the end-of-the-week din.

“We received a letter today from Principal Craney.”

“Finally. What does it say?”

“No coach at Horizon High School will lead or conduct prayers before, during, or after games or practices. Any violation will be grounds for disciplinary action, and this information has been conveyed to all coaches at Horizon High School.”

“That's exactly what we asked for.”

“Yes,” Megan says. “Principals usually respond this way when they're reminded of the law.”

“Awesome.” Liam pounds his locker so hard, kids turn to stare. Coach Kloss is going to have to change. “We did it.”

“You did it,” Megan says. “You're the one who initiated it.”

Liam picks up his pack, but then remembers his conversation with Drake. “Megan, the captain of the team says he's leading prayers after games now. He says they're voluntary. That's not much of a change.”

“Sure it is,” Megan says. “Coaches leading prayers is unconstitutional, and our Constitution is only as strong as the people willing to stand up for it. You did that, and it has an impact now and for all the students who follow you. You got people at your school talking about this. You've accomplished more than you realize.”

Liam throws his pack over his shoulder. Maybe she's right. Coach Kloss can't pressure players that way anymore. He rubs the stone in his pocket. Calling Megan also got him to Jack and the girls' team. It got him to Darius and the guys at the B-CAB. It's impossible to imagine not playing with all of them. “Megan, thanks for everything.”

“Thank you, Liam. Thanks for having the courage to stand up.”

Liam flips his phone shut and closes his locker.

The tape is starting to curl. He smooths it back in place. “Yep.” He pumps his fist. “I do.”

Liam races home and tells Mom the news in a rush of words.

“That's wonderful.” She wraps him in a bear hug. “Congratulations.”

“I still can't believe it.” Liam untangles himself. “Principal Craney agreed to everything.”

“He had to,” Mom says. “The law is clear, and principals have to follow the law.”

“I wonder what Coach Kloss will do?” Liam grabs a Dr Pepper from the fridge and pops it open.

“He'll follow the law. Or quit coaching. I thought Craney should have fired him for lying to you when you went to him with your concerns.”

Liam relaxes on the couch. That's Mom. She always wants more. But her instincts about Coach Kloss not changing without pressure were right. Even though he hates to admit it, her instincts are often right. He doesn't need to tell her that, though.

“A lot of people want Kloss fired. Not making the playoffs is worse to them than leading prayers in the locker room.” She sits down in the green chair. “So, now that you've accomplished this, what's next?”

“I'm going to take it easy.” Liam leans back.

“Have you been studying your vocabulary for the PSAT?”

“What?” Is she kidding?

“Vocabulary. Have you been studying for the PSAT?”

Liam looks at her like she's from Mars. How can she go from Principal Craney's letter to the PSAT like that?

“Liam, I asked you a question.”

“I know. I'm not going to answer.” He stares at the painting above the fireplace that Mom made in art school. He sees shadows he's never noticed.

“What do you mean?”

“That's good. You should go back to painting.”

“What are you talking about? We're talking about you.”

“Let's talk about you for a change.” Liam sits up. “Do you miss painting?”

“Liam, I asked you about the PSAT.”

“I've got plenty of time.” He drains the can in one long gulp.

“You have to think about it. The PSAT is your future. Your scores determine your college choices.”

“I'll prepare for it my own way.” He looks directly at her.

“What do you mean?”

“I've got my own road, Mom.” He smiles. “I must travel it myself.”

“Who has a poem?” Jack gathers the team around him before the sectional final against Clearwater.

“I do,” Iris volunteers. “It's called ‘The Way It Is' by William Stafford.” She recites from memory:

There's a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn't change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can't get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time's unfolding.
You don't ever let go of the thread.

“Thank you, Iris.” Jack looks around at the team. “There is a thread you follow, and you have all followed it here.
You've followed it for years—through all the hours of practice, through all the games. Tonight, have fun. Be present. Don't let go of the thread.”

Liam and Darius sit in the first row behind the bench. Last night, Horizon won by eleven to put them here. One more win to go to State.

The gym is packed. All kinds of kids who've never been to a girls' hoops game are here because a trip to State means two days off from school and blowout parties. “Let's go, Blazers. Destroy them,” hollers a linebacker who's started partying early.

“Go Red! Go White! Go Blazers. All right!” The cheerleaders dance around in front of the Horizon student section.

Liam studies Clearwater. They've got size and a quick left-handed point guard. They've won three games in the playoffs by big margins, just like Horizon. At this point, the remaining teams are all good. “What do you think?” He turns to Darius.

“Simmons is tough.” Darius watches the guard making three-pointers. “And Cartwright's strong underneath. Leah and Jess are going to have their hands full.”

Jessica goes up against Cartwright, who's got three inches on her. Cartwright wins the tip and Horizon sets up on defense. The person Iris guards has a height advantage of a couple of inches, too. Simmons feeds the ball to Cartwright and the referee blows her whistle. “Foul on forty-four, Red.”

Jessica, who barely touched her, turns away in disbelief.

“Let them play, ref.” Liam recognizes Mom's voice. She's standing and shouting while Dad tugs at her arm. Liam didn't know they were coming.

Simmons zips past Leah for a layup. She's the best opponent Leah's faced all year.

On offense, Leah goes right at Simmons and draws a foul. Liam claps. Leah's fearless. She sinks both free throws to tie it up, and the Horizon crowd stomps their feet and cheers.

Back and forth they go. Neither team is able to go up by more than four. Clearwater's outside shooters drain any open shot, so Leah and Chloe have to stay with them when the ball goes inside. That leaves Jessica and Iris battling underneath
with taller opponents. Iris calls out a back screen for Jessica and jumps out on the switch.

“Watch forty-one,” Darius calls. Forty-one bumps Jessica as she sets the screen. Jessica pushes past her and the whistle blows.

“Foul on forty-four, Red.” The ref singles out Jessica. “White ball.”

“Time-out.” Jack signals.

Leah makes a T with her hands and the ref calls time.

“They're calling it close underneath,” Jack says. “Jess, you've already got two. Avoid silly fouls. Leah, speed up the pace a bit.”

Liam's right heel taps a fast beat. Playing provides a way to burn off some of the energy. Sitting here watching is harder. Darius stands up and sits down twice during the time-out. He's feeling it, too.

Right before halftime, Iris is fouled on a move to the hoop. “Two shots,” the ref calls.

Iris stands over to the side at her new free throw spot.
The ref waits under the basket, expecting her to move to the middle. Iris points to her spot and the ref passes her the ball.

She spins the ball, lines up the seams, and shoots. The first shot is good. She shoots again and makes it. Horizon's down by one. Cartwright passes the ball in and Simmons launches up a desperation shot at the buzzer. It falls short.

Liam and Darius go down to the concession stand at halftime. “Two fouls on Jessica.” Liam squirts mustard on his hot dog. “She's got to adjust to the refs.”

“Yeah,” Darius says. “We can't afford to have her sit.”

“What do you think Jack's talking about in the locker room?”

“Who knows?” Darius laughs. “Maybe some sixteenth-century Chinese potter.”

“Or Arapaho warriors on a buffalo hunt.”

“He might not be talking at all.”

“Maybe they're doing lights-out visualization,” Liam says. “With him, you never know.”

In the second half, Jessica picks up her third foul on a drive to the basket. Close call. It could have gone either way.
Iris switches over to guard Cartwright even though she gives up a lot of height. She races downcourt to set up and keep Cartwright from posting up under the basket.

Iris grabs a rebound and passes to Leah. Leah jets up the floor and finds Chloe on the wing. Chloe goes strong to the basket, and Cartwright bumps her. Liam watches the ball roll around the rim twice and then fall in.

Darius nudges Liam. “Look.” He points to Chloe, who's on the floor, grabbing her ankle and grimacing in pain.

“Where's the foul on that?” Jack yells.

Leah calls time-out and the trainer runs out to examine Chloe.

“Call the foul when our player gets hit in midair.” Jack's going at it with the ref. “You can't call it tight underneath and then let that go.”

“That's enough.” The ref raises her hand for calm and walks away.

Jack follows her. “You need to protect the players on both teams.”

The ref blows her whistle and dramatically signals a T at Jack. “Technical foul, Red. One shot.”

Leah rushes in, grabs Jack, and turns him toward the bench. “Calm down, Jack. We need you.”

Jack glares at the ref. His face is red with anger. Liam's surprised to see this side of him. Maybe that's why Jack's always telling them to relax—maybe he knows how easy it is to lose it in the heat of a game.

Iris and Jessica support Chloe as she limps gingerly off the court. She can't put any weight on her left foot. The fans stand and applaud as she wipes her hand across her eyes.

“Nikki.” Jack waves her over. “Go in for Chloe. Take a deep breath. Relax.” He sounds like he's reminding himself as much as her. “Box out. Go after every rebound, every loose ball. Make the extra pass. You know what to do.”

Leah passes to Jessica, who turns baseline, stops, and spins the other way. Simmons is waiting for her and falls to the floor.

The ref blows her whistle. “Foul on forty-four, Red.”

“That's a flop,” Jack says. “She was falling down before she got touched.”

“Bad call.” Liam stomps his foot.

“Smart play by Simmons,” Darius says. “Four fouls on Jess. They'll go inside every possession.”

Simmons passes inside to Cartwright, but Nikki doubles down at the right moment to help out. Iris plays great position defense and denies the entry pass. Jessica moves her feet and avoids fouling. Leah burns up the court to increase the tempo. Both teams are making their shots, and the game moves back and forth with speed and skill.

With twelve seconds left, the game is tied. Leah bounces the ball at the top of the key, fakes a three, and slips past Simmons on a drive to the hoop. Cartwright leaps to alter the shot. The ball rolls around the rim and off. Iris grabs it and goes straight back up. Simmons whacks her on the wrist, and the whistle blows.

“Two shots.” The ref holds out her fingers.

Iris looks at the scoreboard and exhales a deep breath. Six seconds left. All she needs to do is make one. She lines up at her spot and the ref passes the ball.

Liam crosses his fingers and buries his head in his hands. He can't look. He can't stand the pressure. It's taking forever.

He peeks up as the Horizon fans explode with cheers. She made it. He jumps up and pounds fists with Darius. Iris made it. Horizon is up by one. Iris smiles and Jessica pumps her fist.

“You're my hero, Iris.” Chloe hops up and down on one foot.

Iris bounces the ball at her new favorite spot. She buries the second one. Horizon's up by two.

Clearwater doesn't call time-out to set up a last shot. Instead, Simmons flies down the side.

“No fouls,” Jack hollers.

Leah's tight on Simmons.

“No fouls!”

“Four, three,” Horizon fans count down the clock.

Cartwright sets a screen and Leah slams into it.

“Two, one.”

Simmons launches the ball from half-court.

“Zeroooooooooooooo.”

Everybody watches the ball in the air.

No way.

No way.

It's going to be close.

The ball hits the backboard and banks in.

It's good. Three points. Clearwater wins.

The Clearwater players scream and pile on top of Simmons, while the Horizon players stare in disbelief.

Leah has an arm around Iris. Jessica barks at the ref about the fouls. Leah leads the team over for the post-game handshake with Clearwater. She hugs Simmons, the player who kept her from going to State. Chloe hops along on some crutches somebody has found for her.

“Over here,” Jack says. The girls put their arms on one another's shoulders as they surround him. “That's a tough loss.” He takes off his glasses and wipes a towel across his face. “I know all of you are feeling it deeply.” He drops the towel to the floor. “You were right there. You battled and gave everything you had. Tonight's a game you'll remember the rest of your lives.” Jack looks around. “I'm proud of you.”

Liam wipes his eyes and bows his head. It's over. The season is finished.

“One more thing,” Jack says. “Don't ever let go of the thread.”

“What about these roses?” Mom and Dad are sitting together in front of a crackling fire, looking through a seed catalog when Liam gets back.

“That variety won't grow in our zone,” Dad says. “Too cold.”

“Of course,” Mom says. “I forgot to check if they were suitable for Siberia.”

“These ones will work.” Dad turns back a couple of pages.

“I'm sorry, Liam,” Mom says. “I thought we won with those free throws.”

“What a game.” Dad sets the catalog down. “Horizon played great.”

“Yeah.” Liam sits down in the chair. He picks up the bowl Jack made for him from its spot on the coffee table. He runs his fingers over its surface. “Dad, do you see now why I'm glad I practiced with the girls' team rather than sticking it out with Coach Kloss?”

“I do.”

“Have a chocolate.” Mom offers Liam the box. “Your dad picked up an early Saint Patrick's Day present.”

Liam chooses a leprechaun. “Dad, we haven't played Around the World in a long time. I've got a new version and I can beat you.”

“We'll see,” Dad says. “I've been practicing myself.”

Mom's looking at her painting. “Tell him what you told me the other day, Liam.”

“What?”

“About your road.”

“I've got my own road, Dad. I must travel it myself.”

Dad smiles. “Whitman. You've been reading Whitman?”

Liam nods. Dizzy pads over and jumps in his lap. Liam strokes her back as she purrs contentedly.

“He's one of my favorites,” Dad says. “Mrs. Stabenow is having you read Whitman for English?”

“No.” Liam shakes his head. “I'm reading him for basketball.”