Box Out Read Free

clean look as he rises to shoot. The shot clangs the front rim and bounces off.
    Liam leaps and grabs the ball. He’s got to shoot fast. He goes up.
    Whack. Fifty-five slaps him hard on the elbow and he falls to the floor.
    The whistle blows. “Foul on fifty-five, Yellow.” The ref jumps in. “Two shots.”
    â€œGreat play.” Drake pulls Liam up from behind.
    â€œYou bailed us out.” Pelke slaps Liam’s hand.
    Liam walks to the free throw line. He needs to make one to tie and two to win. He waits for the custodian to finish mopping up his sweat spot from the floor so no one will slip. He positions his feet behind the line and rubs hishands on his shoes. One second left. The game is in his hands. The whole gym quiets, as if silence will make it easier for him.
    â€œTwo shots, men.” The ref passes the ball to Liam.
    Liam bounces the ball and hears the Crosston point guard behind him. “Broke. This shot’s broke.”
    Liam shoots quickly. As soon as he releases, he knows it’s short. Way short. He backs off the line, and the ball misses the hoop entirely.
    â€œAIRRRRR BALL! AIRRRRR BALL!” Crosston fans chant.
    Liam shakes out his arms. He hasn’t shot an air ball from the free throw line in years.
    â€œC’mon, Bergie,” Drake says. “You can do it.”
    Liam approaches the line. Calm down. Relax. Concentrate. The cheerleaders cross their fingers and hold on to one another. The ref passes the ball and Liam positions his feet. Shoot it harder. He bounces the ball and looks at the hoop.
    â€œBroke,” the point guard taunts.
    Liam exhales and shoots. Seconds slow and the shot looks good as it arcs toward the hoop.
    The ball hits the back of the rim, bounces up, touches the front rim, and rolls off. Forty-two wraps up the rebound as the buzzer sounds. Liam stands at the line and stares at the hoop. All the hundreds—thousands—of free throws he’s made. How could he miss both of them? He turns to the scoreboard. Crosston 61, Horizon 60. Game over.
    He shuffles to the bench as Crosston fans dance onto the court.
    â€œGet ’em next time.” Chris Staley slaps his back.
    â€œRemember this feeling.” Coach puts his arm around Liam. “Use it to become a better player. You’re on varsity now. We’re counting on you.”
    Liam nods. Coach could have ripped into him and sent him straight back to JV. He could have said he made a mistake and brought Seth up instead.
    The rest of the guys head back to the locker room. Nobody else says anything to him. They don’t need to. Liam let the team down.
    He sees his parents standing at the side of the court. Mom rushes over and gives him a hug. “I’m sorry, Liam.”
    â€œNot now, Mom.” He frees himself.
    â€œIt’s okay,” Dad says.
    â€œIt’s not okay.” Liam shakes his head. “I lost the game.”
    â€œOne game, Liam. You have a long season ahead. You’ll have other chances.”
    â€œNot playing like this.” Liam turns and trudges to the locker room.
    The January cold slaps Liam’s face as he walks to his car after the game. He scrunches his shoulders as he fumbles to insert the key in the lock. It’s freezing. Nights like this are when he misses Seattle most. He starts the Toyota and flips the heat to high.
    The flat, empty streets of Horizon are quiet. After two and a half years here, he’s still getting used to living in a small town. Most of the guys at school have known one another since kindergarten. If you didn’t grow up here, you’re an outsider.
    He turns left at the post office and drives past his church, Saint Mary’s, with the statue of Mary holding Jesus in front. Behind the church, lights shine at the one-story, brick nursing home where Grandma lives. Last Sundaythey celebrated her eighty-third birthday. Grandma liked the cake and balloons but asked him twice whose birthday