Fast Break (13 page)

JAYSON HAD WANTED TO MAKE
things right at the Foot Locker. He knew Mr. Lawton had already paid for the sneakers Jayson had stolen, but he wanted to buy them with his own money. The Lawtons had given him an allowance each week, but insisted that Jayson had to earn it by doing more than simply keeping his room clean. So he cleaned out the garage, made sure the basketball court got swept, and piled the wood that Mr. Lawton would chop for the fireplace. He made it his job, every night after dinner, to clear the table, stack the dishes in the dishwasher, and clean any pots and pans that needed to be cleaned by hand.

He just wasn't ready yet, didn't have enough money saved. Even if he did have the money, he wasn't sure he was ready to face the people he'd stolen from.

But now the thing that made him most ashamed had just come walking through the door.

He pulled out his phone and casually looked down at it while he tried to figure out how he wanted to play out the situation. His coaches, teammates, and even players on the
other team talked about how Jayson Barnes could always think one move ahead of everybody else on the court. He was trying like crazy to do that now.

“You expecting to hear from Zoe?” Bryan said, grinning. “You're staring at the phone like you're waiting for something to happen.”

“What? No, no, nothing like that.” But he kept staring at the phone like it was the most important thing he'd do all day, more important than beating Karsten earlier. “It's just that Mrs. Lawton said she was going to text me about something I had to do later.”

He knew it was lame, but it was all he had at the moment.

He shot a quick look at the counter, praying that Pete wouldn't turn around and remember him, remember what he'd done. Jayson had no idea whether Pete was there to eat at the restaurant or pick up takeout.

But Jayson wasn't willing to risk the chance that Pete might come over and out him in front of his friends. He dreaded the thought of having to explain the whole situation to the guys afterward.

He briefly thought about telling them the truth. Why not? They were his teammates; he could try swearing them to secrecy, and maybe it would work. But then they'd know. And from then on they'd look at him differently. They'd smile and pretend everything was the same, but it wouldn't be. He'd be a thief in their eyes instead of just their teammate and starting point guard. And eventually one of them would tell somebody
else, and that's all it would take, and before long everybody in the seventh grade would know. Including Zoe.

His head was spinning with all kinds of thoughts, some of them crazy. But the only one that mattered was this:

He had to get out of here—right now.

He took another look around. It wasn't all that crowded at Joe's, just three booths along the wall were taken, one table filled with a bunch of girls.

He heard the kid taking Pete's order say, “To stay or to go?”

“Stay. Don't want to have to reheat the best pie in the county when I get home.”

That was it. Jayson reached into his pocket for his phone, like he'd just been buzzed even if they hadn't heard it, and said to the guys, “Ah, man, I was afraid of this. I gotta go. Mrs. Lawton is gonna pull up in like one minute.”

“You didn't even eat yet,” Bryan said. “She can't wait ten minutes?”

“I promised her,” Jayson said.

He took a few dollars out of his pocket and threw the money on the table. Cameron said they'd pay for it; Jayson hadn't even eaten anything. “Nah, it's cool,” Jayson said. “I'm part of the team now.” He was watching Pete, still up at the counter, chatting with the cashier. Jayson was hoping to time his exit just right.

“See you guys at practice,” he said.

The second Pete turned around and started looking for a place to sit while he waited for his pizza, Jayson stood up and
walked away from the booth, almost bumping into Pete as he made his way to the door. “Sorry,” he said as he kept moving, head down, the door nearly hitting him in the face as another customer came walking into Joe's. “Sorry.”

Then he was out the door and gone, out on the sidewalk, looking down at the same sneakers he'd stolen weeks back.

Jayson waited for that same large hand to come down firmly on his shoulder.

But it never did.

• • •

When he got back, the Lawtons were in the living room. Mrs. Lawton was reading and Mr. Lawton was watching a basketball game. Mrs. Lawton put her glasses on top of her head and bookmarked her page when Jayson came in.

“You said you were going to call,” she said. “Did one of the other boys' parents give you a ride?”

He was tired of making things up today, so he didn't even try.

“I walked home,” he said.

Mr. Lawton muted the TV with his remote. “Jayson, that's more than a four-mile walk. Why didn't you just call?”

It was quiet in the room without the sound of the game. He checked out the screen and remembered that Kentucky was playing Kansas today.

“Jayson,” Mrs. Lawton said. “Did something happen?”

“It was no big deal,” he said, even though he knew it was a very big deal, at least to him.

“It was enough to make you walk home alone.”

“Not as if I'm not used to being on my own.”

“You want to tell us what happened?” Mr. Lawton said.

Jayson looked at Mr. and Mrs. Lawton. They were waiting for him to speak. Finally he sighed again. “The man who caught me after I stole the sneakers came into Joe's when I was there with my teammates.”

Mrs. Lawton put her book down now and sat forward in her chair. “I see.”

“No, you don't,” he said. “You
don't
see. You don't know what it's like to feel like I'm still hiding, even though I'm living here now.” He was breathing hard, just like that, taking air in and letting it out.

“What you did was wrong, Jayson,” Mrs. Lawton said. “But it wasn't the crime of the century, either. Do you really think people would think so differently about you if they knew you stole a pair of sneakers so you could be like the other players on your team?”

“Yes,” he said. “It was pathetic.
I
was pathetic.”

“You're many things, Jayson, but never pathetic,” Mrs. Lawton said.

“My friends don't really know me,” he said. “They just know the made-up version, the one who lives with you.”

“Well, I know the real you,” she said, “whether you want to believe that or not. I think you're a good person with a good heart doing amazingly well with circumstances that would have crushed most kids your age.”

He wanted to believe her. Wanted people to see him as
more than just a thief. But for now he just wanted to get out of this room, the way he'd gotten out of Joe's.

“You've got to stop being so hard on yourself,” Mr. Lawton said.

“I'm just so tired of feeling like a phony, like at any minute I need to run.”

“At least this time you ran home,” Mrs. Lawton said.

THE BOBCATS KEPT WINNING, AND
kept looking more like a team that could win the league every time they played. When Jayson was playing ball, he knew exactly who he was: the point guard whose role was making everybody around him better.

He wasn't seeing as much of Zoe on the weekends. Not since that awkward conversation with her mom at her house. She'd canceled on him a couple times out of the blue, which was a little weird, but he didn't think too much of it. She had mentioned that she would be doing a lot of riding and going to horse shows in the area.

He kept in touch with Tyrese and talked to him a couple of times a week. But Jayson didn't want to go back to the Jeff, and he didn't invite Tyrese over to the west side to hang with him. They were still friends, but more than ever it felt like a long-distance friendship to Jayson, the two of them living on different sides of Moreland. Jayson felt like he'd be as much of a phony going back to the old hood now as he was going to Belmont Khaki Day.

Ms. Moretti kept coming for her weekly visits and kept telling him how much “progress” she thought he was making. Sometimes Jayson would ask her how she could tell.

“You seem more relaxed,” she said.

“Then I'm fooling you,” he said. “I don't relax. I just keep grinding away.”

“In everything?” she said. “Even with school and the friends you're making?”

“Pretty much.”

“So this is just one big show; you're really not enjoying your life over here?”

“It's better than it was,” Jayson said. “Isn't that enough?”

She smiled. “My goal is for you to be happy.”

“Everybody seems to want that,” he said. “But it's like I keep telling you—that's on me.”

“Like it's another opponent you need to beat? Jayson Barnes against the world?”

“Something like that.”

They left it there. It was a week before Christmas. Jayson wasn't quite sure how he felt about his first Christmas at the Lawtons'. It had never been a very big deal at the Pines, just him and his mom, usually one or two presents. The last one they'd spent together, she'd been in bed for most of the day.

Mrs. Lawton's mom had died young of cancer a long time ago, though not as young as Jayson's mom had been. She hadn't seen her father since he'd left the family when she was a little girl. Mr. Lawton's parents lived in Arizona and didn't like to fly.

Even so, Mr. and Mrs. Lawton walked around the house looking cheerful, but every once in a while, Jayson could see a sad look on their faces, and he wondered if they were thinking of their son. Isaiah had told them it was doubtful he would be coming home for the holidays. It was weird, Jayson thought, how some people would give anything to grow up in a home like Isaiah's, while others just wanted to run away. He wondered which of the two options he wanted for himself now.

He woke up at his normal time on Christmas morning. When he came downstairs, the Lawtons were waiting for him, Mrs. Lawton telling him she had been about five minutes from waking him up, since she couldn't wait any longer to open presents.

“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.

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 it. 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.