Authors: Mike Lupica

Hot Hand (11 page)

BOOK: Hot Hand

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EIGHTEEN

Their mom called on Saturday morning just as Billy and Ben were finishing Peg’s pancakes, Peg having told them that pancakes were the Breakfast of Champions today, not Wheaties.

“Neither one of you needs me around to play your best,” Billy’s mom said to him after she was done talking to Ben. “Trust your talent. Both of you.”

“Mom,” Billy said, “stop worrying. We’re both gonna do great.”

“Is Ben still standing there?”

“No.”

“How’s he doing?”

Billy took the easy way out. “He’s Ben,” he said, thinking maybe that’s what both his parents wanted to hear, especially when they weren’t around.

“Who’s taking you to the game?”

“Peg wants to drop me,” Billy said, “then take Ben over to West.”

His mom wished him luck again, told him she loved him again, told him to give Ben a hug for her, even knowing that was never going to happen, told him to look out for his brother and hung up.

Billy went back upstairs. When he passed Ben’s bedroom, the door was open. And Billy could see that even though the recital was still more than two hours away, Ben was already dressed up in his blazer, khaki pants, white shirt, tie.

It was Billy’s tie, which made it a little long for him, but Ben had wanted to wear it, anyway. Peg must have just finished tying it for him.

“You ready?” Billy said from the doorway.

They had stopped being mad at each other at dinner last night, just the two of them eating with Peg. Nobody had apologized about what had happened in front of MacKenzie’s. Nobody had said anything about not being mad anymore. But Ben had started talking to Peg about what a dork his science teacher was. Mr. Dooley. Billy had said they called him Mr. Drooley when he had him. Ben had actually laughed.

And just like that, things were normal between them again.

“Are
you
ready?” Ben said.

Billy used one of their dad’s lines. “I was
born
ready,” he said.

He wanted to get a smile out of Ben, wanted to feel better about Ben going off to his recital without their mom. Or maybe what Billy really wanted was to stop worrying about Ben so he could just be excited about being this close to the championship game.

“I’m sorry I lied,” Ben said.

“With your piano teacher?” Billy asked. “Forget it. I already did.”

“No,” Ben said. “About piano. And the recital.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I said I didn’t care,” Ben said. “But I do.”

“I know. We all know. Piano’s your thing, just like basketball’s mine. You’re going to do great today.”

They stood there looking at each other then, nobody saying a word, Ben looking more like the little brother than ever in his church clothes, the tie too long for him, his arms too short for his blazer.

Without thinking about it, just doing it, Billy walked over and stuck out his hand to his brother, palm up, looking for a low five.

Ben put his hand on top of Billy’s and gave it a regular handshake instead, like you did when you met a grownup.

“Good luck, dude,” Billy said.

“You, too,” Ben said.

For a second, it was like neither one of them wanted to let go.

Lenny DiNardo had been inside the high school gym to watch games with his dad plenty of times. But he’d never been on the floor until today.

The place was huge.

Even when he started shooting around with the guys, he kept stopping every minute or so just to take another look around.

Huge.

He finally took a deep breath and reminded himself of something Mr. Raynor had said after practice on Wednesday, their last practice before the championship game:

“The baskets are gonna be the same height as they are at the Y. The free throw line is the same distance from the baskets. They’re still gonna have us playing five-on-five.”

Then Mr. Raynor had said, “Basketball is basketball.”

It just felt like more today to Lenny DiNardo, maybe because he and Billy had been thinking about this one basketball game the whole season.

Lenny couldn’t wait for Billy to get here, so they could both start getting each other fired up the way they always did.

They’d made it.

The championship game wasn’t a month away now, or a week away, or three days away, or even tomorrow.

It was starting in twenty minutes.

Mr. Raynor came over to Lenny. “He and Peg must be on their way. I just used your dad’s cell to call the house, and there was no answer. I tried Peg’s cell, but she must have turned it off already for Ben’s recital.”

“They’ll be here, Mr. R,” Lenny said. “I talked to him right after I got up, and he said he wished we could come over to the gym then.”

Mr. Raynor said, “If I know Billy, he would have.”

Lenny watched him walk back over to the folding chairs the team used as its bench. He watched as his dad handed Mr. Raynor a phone again, saw Mr. Raynor hit the number keys, wait a moment, then shake his head in disgust.

Where were they?

Lenny got into the layup line with the rest of the guys, stopping whenever he got to the end of the shooting line or the rebounding line to give a look at the doors to the gym, then at the big clock at the other end.

Or at Mr. Raynor.

Lenny DiNardo kept doing that until the horn ending warmups sounded, at one minute before eleven o’clock.

Mr. Raynor came walking toward him then. Lenny didn’t like the look on his face.

“I just thought to check my messages at home,” he said. “There was one from Billy. He’s not coming.”

NINETEEN

Billy and Peg sat in the fourth row, the last two seats before the middle aisle, where they were sure Ben would be able to see them.

“You called?” Peg said.

“I left a message,” Billy said. “He never brings his cell phone to the games.”

“You could’ve gone to the gym and told him.”

“I was afraid if I did, he’d change my mind.” Dad doesn’t change his own mind, but he’s
real
good at changing other people’s.”

“You’re sure about this?” Peg said. “Your brother is the fourth one playing. I could still get you over there, get myself back here in time.” She patted the recorder in her lap. “And then pray this thing works.”

Billy shook his head, staring at the stage. “I’m staying. I told Ben I was staying. He’s not looking out here now and seeing me gone.”

“He’d understand if you changed your mind and left,” she said.

“I’m his brother, and I’m staying,” Billy said.

Peg reached over and gave his hand a squeeze.

Billy looked over at the clock, the same clock he’d look at during practice, wanting it to slow down when they’d be scrimmaging at the end of practice, not wanting the scrimmage to end.

Eleven o’clock, exactly.

There would be other big games, he told himself. He would make sure of that.

The next time he looked up at the clock at 11:02, the gym at West got quiet and the first boy walked up the steps of the stage they’d set up under one of the baskets, sat down, took a deep breath, held his hands above the keys for a second, then started to play.

The next time Billy looked up at the clock, after the third kid—and first girl—had played, it was 11:15.

Billy knew it was all classical music because his mom usually had that kind of music playing in the house when she was there, working or cooking or just reading. He knew, because his mom had told him, that Ben was playing the hardest piece of anybody in the program, something by Mozart.

And other than hearing when somebody would make a mistake, hitting some clunky key and making a clunky sound that was like dragging a finger across a blackboard, that was about all Billy knew about the music he was listening to in the gym at West.

But he knew he’d made the right choice.

For his brother.

The audience had finished applauding the girl. It was Ben’s turn now. He came walking up the steps, looking straight ahead, his face real serious. He sat down and had to move the bench a little closer to the piano. When he had it adjusted the way he wanted, he turned and looked down to where Billy and Peg were sitting.

Maybe just to make sure.

Billy wasn’t sure if you were allowed to do this at a piano recital, but he gave his brother a couple of fist pumps.

Ben smiled.

Billy thought it was for the fist pump and that he would start playing now.

Only he didn’t.

He just kept staring out at the audience and smiling, and it was then that Billy heard, “Is this seat taken?”

And looked up and saw his mom.

TWENTY

He and Peg were out the door after the applause for Ben had finally stopped.

Billy didn’t know how good the kids coming after Ben on the program were going to be. But from what he’d heard so far, he couldn’t believe any of them would come close to his brother, who had blown everybody away.

As Billy had listened, he realized he couldn’t tell the difference between his brother’s music and what he’d hear on his mom’s radio at home.

That’s how well Ben had played.

Afterward, Billy applauded harder than anybody, didn’t even get embarrassed when he looked around and saw that he was the only one in the gym giving his brother a standing O.

His mom finally touched his arm and said, “Go.”

The clock said 11:25.

Halftime.

Maybe.

Before he left, Billy said to his mom, “When did you . . . ? How . . . ?”

She said, “I was on my way to the airport in Boston about ten minutes after I talked to Ben and you. And I will give you all the other details later. But right now you have to go play your game.”

Billy changed in the backseat of Peg’s car.

Looking in the rearview mirror, she said, “I’m not peeking. But I didn’t notice you putting your uniform in the car.”

Billy said, “I was wearing it underneath my clothes. Just in case.”

Peg said, “Little bit like Superman changing in the phone booth.”

Ben was a Superman guy, because of his comic books. Billy had never even watched the cartoon show.

“What?” he said to Peg.

“I’m even older than I think sometimes,” Peg said, grinning at him in the rearview mirror. “Now I think I’ll just drive.”

The clock on her dashboard showed 11:40 when they pulled up in front of the gym, after having stopped at what felt like every single stoplight between West and the high school.

Billy ran up the front steps, through the double doors, past a table in the lobby where some girls he knew from school were selling drinks.

On his way across the lobby, he heard a horn sound.

And hoped it wasn’t the horn ending the game, that they hadn’t played faster than usual today. Or that they hadn’t started earlier than they were supposed to—

No. He was still in time.

They were getting ready to start the fourth quarter.

The scoreboard said the visitors were leading 28-24, but Billy had no way of knowing whether the Magic were the visitors today or not.

The guys were still in the huddle around his dad, who was kneeling.

Billy ran for them like he was going for a loose ball.

“Dad,” he said.

The other players turned around and stared. Billy felt like everybody in the gym was staring at him.

Again.

Then Lenny and the guys gave him room.

Joe Raynor, still kneeling, looked up, clipboard in his hand. Billy tried to read his face, not knowing how mad he was.

He sure hoped his dad had checked his messages at home, so at least he’d known why Billy hadn’t shown up earlier.

If he hadn’t checked his messages at home, maybe he didn’t think Billy had even tried to call.

“Dad,” Billy said again, but then before he could say anything else, his dad held up his hand.

“Later,” he said. “We’ve got a game to win.”

“I know I should have told you myself,” Billy said. “But I was afraid you’d be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” his dad said. And then he did the last thing Billy expected.

He smiled. Then he swallowed hard and said, “What you did is what I should have done for him. I’m proud of you.”

The ref blew his whistle then, came over and said he needed the Magic players back on the court.

“I almost forgot,” Billy said. “Are we up four or down four?”

“Down,” Lenny said.

Billy’s dad was still looking at him.

“You ready?”

Billy grinned. “I was
born
ready,” he said.

“Then get in there.”

TWENTY-ONE

Billy’s dad said one last thing to him as they were breaking the huddle. “Don’t be afraid to shoot.”

It was Magic ball. Billy could see the Hornets were in a packed-in zone, which is what happened when your team couldn’t make anything from outside. They basically dared you to keep shooting from out there.

But on that first possession of the fourth quarter, somebody finally did make an outside shot for the Magic. The first time Billy touched the ball he did exactly what his dad had told him to do: drained one.

Now they were down by two.

At the other end, Lenny snuck in behind Tim Sullivan as he was trying to make a move toward the basket, took the ball away from him, wheeled and started up the court for a two-on-one with Billy.

When the Hornets’ guy back on defense cheated over to block Lenny’s path to the basket, Lenny passed the ball to Billy, just inside the free throw line. His favorite spot.

He drained another one.

Game tied, just like that.

As he ran back on defense, he saw the double doors to the gym open and his mom and Ben walk through them.

BOOK: Hot Hand

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