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  Jessica Carter raised her hand. “You forgot to mention they were Japanese,” she blurted out, not waiting to be called on.

  “Should that matter?” Ms. McCrea asked the class.

  “Well, we were at war with Japan, so . . .” Charlie Martin, my assembly companion, answered.

  “But the people put in camps were American,” Ms. McCrea responded. “They were of Japanese ancestry, but they had built lives in America. They were part of American communities.”

  “In the textbook, it explains that the government was worried that there might have been spies within the Japanese communities,” Jessica said. She had blue and gold ribbons hanging from her pigtails but was in her school uniform. I was surprised she wasn’t wearing a here to stay shirt.

  “So paranoia justifies rounding up thousands of people and treating them like prisoners?” Ms. McCrea asked, staring at her.

  “It was wartime, we’d been attacked, our government did what it needed to do,” Jessica said. “I’m not saying it was a perfect idea. I get that innocent people suffered, but maybe it did help in some way. Who knows?”

  “I’ll remember you said that next time I see you post a photo at Benihana,” Sean spat back. A few people chuckled nervously.

  Jessica turned and looked not at Sean but directly at me. “War is not politically correct or polite. It’s a time when you have to do what’s necessary to protect people.”

  “How long does a person or group of people have to live in the U.S. before they are considered truly American, Jessica?” Sean asked. “I have a feeling you would have loved the House Un-American Activities Committee. Such a shame you weren’t around to be a member.”

  Jessica didn’t answer. She kept staring at me.

  My skin didn’t just crawl; it felt like it was going to leap off my body, turn to liquid, and seep into the floorboards.

  “The only group of people who are truly original Americans are Native Americans,” Charlie said. He likes to hike up his participation grade by playing both sides of an issue.

  “Yes, and look how well they’ve been treated.” Sean’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

  “It’s true, America is a country with a history of injustice, but can we learn from those injustices? Make sure our society is indeed democratic and fair to all who reside here?” Ms. McCrea asked the room. “The internment camps are a horrendous blight on our founding principles. Let’s remember that while these things have happened in the past, and it may be difficult to imagine, these were real people with real lives.”

  “Typical. Any time we have a discussion, it has to fit a certain agenda,” Jessica said, rolling her eyes.

  “An agenda?” Ms. McCrea asked. “Jessica, while we are free to speak, we must do so with respect,” she said.

  Jessica still huffed.

  “I think I get what Jessica is saying. No one feels like they can say anything out of fear of saying the wrong thing,” Charlie put in.

  “Sometimes it is the wrong thing,” Sean responded.

  “When there are threats to national security, foreign or domestic, the government has to do what it feels necessary to make sure Americans are safe,” Jessica said. “Whether it offends people or not, hard decisions have to be made.”

  “So people’s civil liberties can go to hell so long as we’re safe, yeah?” Sean asked. “Fascism is a slippery slope, isn’t it, Ms. McCrea?”

  “So it is,” Ms. McCrea said, her face drained of color. I guess she hadn’t expected class comments to throw a wrench into her lesson plan.

  The bell rang. Jessica smirked at us before she stood up and left.

  “Hey, guys, wait up a minute,” Ms. McCrea said to Sean and me as we stood up. “I know things got a little testy today. I think I need to reframe my questions next time. But dialogue is always good. There’s no solution without communication.”

  “Depends on what’s being communicated,” Sean said. He and I walked out of the classroom. I thought for sure Ms. McCrea would ask Sean to stay to discuss things further, but she just let us go.

  Jessica and Will stood by his locker, hugging. When she saw us heading down the hallway, she leaned over and whispered something in Will’s ear. He looked up and glared at me from across the hall. What a great couple they made.

  “I told you, man,” Sean said. “It’s the Age of the Asshole.”

  “You said it,” I agreed.

  I didn’t want to be a part of it, though. I had to go talk to Stephanie, try to make things right between us. I shouldn’t have insulted her when she was trying to reach out, even if I didn’t want to be part of her “endeavor.” I saw Noah farther down the hallway, exiting a class. “Hey, Noah!”

  He looked surprised but immediately put on his game-show-host smile.

  “Hey, Beej,” he said. “How’s it going?”

  “Not bad, thanks. You?” I wanted to get the pleasantries out of the way.

  “Been busy with the Gazette since the mascot campaign picked up steam,” he said. “Next issue the op-ed editors have asked Will and Stephanie to contribute pieces on why the mascot should go and why it should stay. We’re going to press again in three weeks.”

  “I thought they only let seniors work on the school paper.”

  “I do layout for the paper and yearbook. I’ve got the skills to pay the bills, as it were.” The Granger Gazette and the yearbook shared an office down in the basement near the music rooms.

  “Oh. Cool.” How many extracurricular activities did this guy rack up? “I was wondering if you know where Stephanie is? I need to talk to her about something.”

  Fear flickered on his face. He looked like a squirrel in a dog’s sights.

  “Um, you know, I’m not sure,” he said, obviously lying.

  “Oh, okay. Well, if you see her, could you let her know I’m looking for her?”

  “Sure thing!”

  I knew he wouldn’t mention it at all.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Sean hummed “Eye of the Tiger” the whole walk to the athletic center. The closer we got to the locker rooms, the louder his humming grew. “Cut it out,” I said as he punched the air. “I’m already nervous.”

  “Nothing to be nervous about! So it’s a big game. But in the grand scheme of things, in a world rife with famine, disease, war, natural disasters, and crime, is a game all that important?”

  “Okay, now I’m nervous and feeling guilty for having First World problems. Thanks, bud,” I said as we reached the hallway outside the locker room.

  “Sorry. Just play like when we’re at the park. Have fun with it! And if that doesn’t work, pretend everyone watching in the stands and on the court is naked. Isn’t that right, ladies?”

  “Isn’t what right?” Elle asked from behind me.

  “Sneak attack from the back!”

  “I did not see that coming, Kevin.”

  I turned around to find her and Erin in their gym clothes. Sweat trickled down the sides of their faces and their cheeks were flushed. Elle’s practice jersey had a piece of black duct tape over the Gunner’s rifle.

  “Bijan’s nervous about the game. It’s like he thinks it’s a big deal or something,” Sean explained.

  “I didn’t think Bijan got nervous,” Elle joked, walking a little bit closer to me. Hummina hummina hummina.

  “It’s been known to happen on occasion. Particularly when I make assumptions about comic book fans,” I said. She smiled as she wiped her forehead with her wristband. “Will you two be watching?”

  “It’s our job to watch,” Erin said. “We’re taking pics for yearbook.”

  “Have a good game,” Elle said. “I need good action shots, so no pressure. You’ll be great.” She and Erin walked to the girls’ locker room, a place full of mystery, so close and yet so far away.

  “Yeah. You’ll be great,” Sean sa
id as he batted his eyelashes in jest.

  “Thanks a lot.” I gave him the finger, took a deep breath, and pushed open the locker room door to join my team.

  “Balls to the wall, man! Show them what you got!” Sean yelled after me.

  ***

  DJ Mustard’s beats blared from the speaker Todd kept in his locker, meant to hype up everyone for the battle ahead. We were playing Armstead Academy, the jewel of the New England private day schools. Armstead had been ranked higher than Granger in some national magazine a few years earlier and officially became the school with the best facilities, the best teachers, and the most Ivy League acceptance letters.

  Granger became the Kevin Love to Armstead Academy’s LeBron James: an excellent choice, but not the ultimate choice. Granger games against Armstead always got the highest fan turnouts, particularly from alumni, even though we usually lost.

  “Whose house is this?” Marcus yelled as he stripped off his shirt.

  “OUR HOUSE!” the rest of us shouted back.

  “I can’t hear you! Whose house is this?” Will shouted, even louder.

  “OUR HOUSE!” It felt kind of good to scream. I wished it were socially acceptable to scream more often. Not in class or anything, but maybe there could be some roped-off area on campus designated for screaming your cares away.

  “What do we do to intruders?” Marcus yelled. I didn’t know the response.

  “CRUSH ’EM!”

  “What do we do?” Will shouted.

  “CRUSH ’EM!” I screamed with my team.

  “When do we do it?”

  “NOW!”

  “When do we do it?”

  “NOW!”

  “Let’s do it, then!” Marcus shouted as the team clapped and cheered.

  “Yo, Will, we’re going to hang at your place after?” Steve asked.

  “Naw. Jessica’s coming over tonight to like talk about feelings or bake cookies or whatever the hell will get her off my case about spending more time together,” Will said, taking off his here to stay shirt. “I don’t think she gets that, like, we’re having fun, you know? Once I get what I need from her, I’m calling it off. Then it’s college honeys for days, you know what I’m saying?”

  Steve nodded, but nobody else seemed to care much about Will’s love life.

  “Hey, B. Good to see you,” Will said as he put on his jersey.

  “Always a pleasure, Will,” I replied. The sarcasm in our words was thicker than the stench of the Axe body spray Steve layered on before and after a game. I turned to face my locker. Something smelled funky, probably Todd’s socks—or maybe Will had crop-dusted farts.

  “It’s really nice of you to keep defending Busted Bergner. You giving it to her, man?” Will dry-humped the air. “I mean, I guess she’d be a good lay. She’s got a nice physique for a munchkin. But all that talking, blah blah this, jibber jabber that . . . I’d be so distracted, you know? Such a boner killer.”

  I kept my back to him. I knew he wanted me to react. I knew he wanted me off the team and out of Granger. If I got into another fight, it would seem like I was the problem. I pretended to ignore him and struggled with my locker door, which was stuck.

  “You put a bag over her head when you do her? So you can shut her up and not have to look at her? I know you people like your girls covered.”

  “Shut up, Will,” Marcus said. “Why do you have to start stuff?”

  “I didn’t start anything! He’s the one who put the school on edge. Can’t say anything anymore without someone going all PC on you,” Will countered. “Right, Drew?”

  “Leave me out of it,” Drew said. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He was tying his shoelaces on the bench. But Will wasn’t going to leave any of us out of it.

  “Yo, Drew. I bet you’d screw Busted Bergner if she had a bag over her head.”

  Drew didn’t respond.

  “I bet you would. Lord knows Erin’s not giving you any,” Will continued.

  I turned around to size Will up. I clenched my fists so hard, if I had been holding a walnut, I would have cracked it. I should have let him keep talking and left him alone, but I couldn’t help myself. “Why don’t you find a Jacuzzi jet to stick your dick into and call it a day, Will,” I suggested.

  Todd and Marcus laughed mightily at that one. Drew didn’t look up, but I could see a slight smile on his face.

  Will didn’t seem at all embarrassed. He crossed his arms and puffed out his chest. I turned back around to try to open my locker again. I finally jerked the door with full force. It banged open.

  My locker was stuffed with raw bacon. A giant mound of oily, slimy fat and protein lay on top of my practice pinnie and shorts.

  “You get something from your secret psych?” Will asked. I slammed the door shut, grateful that my game uniform was in my gym bag.

  “Come on, guys. Game’s starting soon,” Will said. I heard the shuffling of sneakers as some of my “teammates” exited the locker room.

  “That’s messed up,” Todd said to me as I turned around. “Do you need help, uh . . . cleaning?” It was nice to know there was some shred of decency left in the wide world of Granger sports.

  “I’d leave it there,” Marcus said, his jaw tight with anger. “Let it stink the whole place up. Then Coach can’t ignore it.”

  “We’ll see you out on the court,” Drew offered. It wasn’t an apology, or even a kindness, but it was something. Recognition that I was a part of the group, even if he wished I weren’t.

  After the rest of the guys left, I sat down on the bench and slammed my fist down on the metal. I breathed heavily. The rage inside needed a place to go, needed someone or something to fight against without getting me kicked out of Granger. Armstead wouldn’t know what hit them.

  ***

  We were down by ten in the second quarter. My legs were bouncing up and down as I sat on the edge of the bench. I hadn’t played yet, but I was fired up and ready to go.

  I ignored the crowd, not bothering to check whether Elle was snapping photos for yearbook or Sean was sitting with my mom. I blocked out Coach’s pep talks. I didn’t cheer when our hands were in the huddle, though Coach didn’t seem to notice. He had no clue what had happened in the locker room.

  “B! You’re in,” he said after Drew got a reaching foul.

  That was all the go-ahead I needed. I popped up like a jack-in-the-box and jogged over.

  “Sub in for Drew.”

  I pointed to Drew, letting him know I was coming in for him. He looked at Coach in disbelief and jogged off. We didn’t slap hands when we switched places. Didn’t seem to be a point.

  The Armstead player who was guarding me was a little shorter than I was, but a good defender. Poor guy. I was about to serve him his ass on a platter with a raw bacon garnish.

  “And in comes Majidi with a chip on his shoulder. He breaks away from his defender like a streak of hot sauce across a chicken wing. Silva feeds him the rock. Majidi takes it to the hoop, and oh my, does he have hops! Look at how high he got, Reggie!”

  “That’s an easy two for the Granger Gunners. I feel like we’re going to be seeing a lot of that tonight, Kevin.”

  I hustled back on D. Armstead’s shooting guard launched a brick that I easily rebounded. I swung my elbows back and forth to let everyone know they had better get the hell away from me. They got the message loud and clear and backed off to their end of the court. I snapped the ball to Marcus, who put two fingers in the air to call a play.

  Will didn’t set a pick for me like he was supposed to. Coach noticed and shouted at him. Instead of waiting, Marcus threw the ball to Steve, who was open, but Steve wasn’t ready for it. It sailed past him out of bounds.

  “What the hell are you doing out there?” Coach screamed.

  The guy I was guarding got hold of the ball, but I didn
’t let him breathe. I stayed on him, watching his stomach so I wouldn’t fall for any ball fakes. He eventually got a pass off, but it was so telegraphed and desperate that Marcus was able to intercept, and he took it to the hole for two points. Armstead got the ball back but couldn’t get a shot off before halftime.

  Wiping sweat off my face with my jersey collar, I headed into the locker room. I expected to be met by the smell of funky spoiled bacon, but it smelled fine. We all found seats on the benches and guzzled down the water our team manager handed around.

  “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you guys to box out.” Coach stood with his arms akimbo. “We are getting killed on offensive boards, and we can’t win without second-chance opportunities! You know this! We’ve done the drills, we’ve talked about it all season.”

  Will made a point of sitting across from me to stare me down.

  I stared right back.

  “Earth to B and Thompson! You plan on paying attention, or you just going to make eyes at each other all night?” Coach yelled. Will finally looked away. I didn’t look up at Coach. I kept glaring at Will, letting him know I wasn’t going to be intimidated. “Why didn’t you set that pick, Thompson? What’s going on? We haven’t had enough problems this week?”

  The locker room was silent. No one was going to explain what had happened before the game.

  “You all think I’ve got time for your petty crap? This is the team now! Whether you like it or not . . . as a matter of fact, I don’t care if you don’t like it,” Coach continued. “You’re the team I’ve got. This is it. I’m going to play you till the end of our season, and if you don’t like your teammates, if you don’t like how much playing time you’re getting, tough! We have a chance to beat Armstead. Granger hasn’t done that in years. If you want to end the season early, that’s up to you. If you’re going to keep this up, we might as well call it a day. So either someone tells me what’s going on or we can end the season right here and now.”