by Tim Green
Troy bet to himself that Thane was thinking of the parents he and Ty had lost in a car crash two years ago, and he wished his mom had used different words. They all sat in an awkward silence. Ty sucked down some of his shake before he brightened again.
“Hey,” he said, “I got an idea! I know how we can fix this.”
Troy stared at him, wanting to believe there was a way. “How?”
CHAPTER FIVE
TY GRINNED. “WE’RE IN the Summit district. I can go there with you. We can play together this year, and then, when things get straightened out, we both go to St. Stephen’s next year.”
Troy felt a surge of excitement. It was something he hadn’t considered. He’d seen the buildings and campus at St. Stephen’s on their website, redbrick buildings with white columns, noble old trees offering shade to wrought-iron benches on rolling grass lawns. The school had a football stadium to rival those in most small colleges. He never imagined Ty would trade all that for the broken-down Summit football program.
“Really?”
Ty looked at his older brother. Thane pulled his lips back from his clenched teeth and tilted his head. He cleared his throat.
“What?” Ty asked him.
Thane gave Troy’s mom an embarrassed look. “I . . . uh, we sure can talk about it.”
“Okay,” Ty said, “let’s talk.”
Thane flashed his little brother an annoyed look. “Later.”
“I think your brother is right, Ty.” Troy’s mom finished her DQ sandwich and wiped her fingers on a napkin. “You can’t just change where you’re going to school to play football.”
Thane’s face flushed. “Seriously, I’d really be happy to work something out with you, Tessa, so Troy could go to St. Stephen’s, too. I know these guys have big plans.”
Up went the hand again. “It’s nice, trust me, I appreciate the thought, but no. I can’t. Absolutely not. So are you two still ready to have dinner with us tomorrow night? I make a mean plate of spaghetti and meatballs. Right, Troy?”
“She does.” Troy tried to sound enthusiastic.
“Our mom used to be this great cook,” Thane said, “and she’d get mad at me because spaghetti and meatballs was all I ever wanted to eat.”
“I love it, too,” Ty said. “Hey, can Troy go with us to the Jets tomorrow? He and I can throw the ball on the practice field.”
They finished their ice cream and milk shakes, making plans for Ty and Troy to get together the next day, and said good-bye. On the car ride home, Troy couldn’t help himself.
“Mom, he wants to help us. I’m going to make a ton of money in the next three years.”
She sighed. “And when you do, and we have money to spend, we’ll change schools. Troy, it’s not easy being a single mom. I’m not complaining, but part of how I’ve done it is sticking to certain principles, and this is one of them. Now, if you want to spend time with Ty and Thane this summer, you’ve got to promise me this will be the end of begging to go to St. Stephen’s. It’s not going to happen. I worry about you. I know a lot of exciting things have happened, but you’re still young.
“You have to stop trying to manipulate everyone and everything around you. Some things are just meant to be, and you playing for Summit this year is just one of them. Do you get it? Are we done now?” She ended with a low growl.
“Yes. We’re done.”
That’s what Troy said, but in his mind, he already had a plan of how he just might fix things without changing schools.
When they got home, he did some chores that his mom asked him to do, then took his iPhone and set off on a walk down the street. When he got away from the house, he dialed and waited for an answer.
“Hello?” said a man’s voice.
“Hey. It’s me, Troy.”
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Well, you know how you said if I ever really needed you, all I have to do is call?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I need you.”
CHAPTER SIX
TROY’S EXPERIENCE TOLD HIM that adults could be relied upon only up to a certain point. After that, they were as unpredictable as a fumble. You never knew which way they were going to bounce. He tried to push the phone call out of his mind and focus on his trip to the Jets facility. It was no small thing, being hired as a twelve—now thirteen—year-old kid by an NFL team. The Jets’ owner hadn’t done it without thoroughly testing Troy, and, at the time, Troy had been pretty puffed up about his talent and the way he was using it to help his favorite team in the entire world—the Atlanta Falcons—become world champions. So when he had to prove his worth, he’d done it with great pride. Predicting play after play while watching an old Jets game on tape, he’d passed the owner’s test with flying colors.
Some people in the media said Troy was simply at the right place at the right time. They openly doubted his “football genius,” and claimed that the Falcons would have won the big game with or without him. The only opinion that mattered on that front, though, was the Jets’ owner’s, and he’d signed a contract with Troy and his parents making Troy a “consultant” for the team in the upcoming season.
Thanks to his mom’s insistence, he had to work during the season only on game days. That meant traveling with the team when they were away. During the week—and throughout the team’s four-week training camp—Troy would go to school, attend football practice, and do chores around the house just like any other kid.
The next morning, Troy’s mom was already up and dressed in a business suit with breakfast on the table. She was excited because she had been called back for a final job interview. Troy sat down, bleary-eyed and scratching his head.
“Troy,” she said as she cleaned the frying pan, “I called Mr. Cole, just as a courtesy, to let him know you’ll be at the facility later on with Thane and Ty, and he said he’d appreciate it if you stopped by his office for a couple of minutes so he could have a chance to talk with you.”
“Talk about what?” Troy couldn’t explain exactly why, but the owner made him a bit uncomfortable.
“Whatever he wants. You’re a big investment.”
His mom gave him a list of things she wanted him to do around the house before he went with Thane and Ty. “Lunch is in the fridge. If you finish everything, you can read until Thane comes to get you, but no Xbox. Now I’ve got to go try to nail down that job. Wish me luck.”
“Luck,” Troy said.
He watched her go and listened to the VW Bug crawl down the gravel driveway and whine up the street. He sighed and cleaned his plate before attacking the list of jobs. He finished with time enough to read, and that’s what he did, out under the tree in back while he ate his ham and cheese in a folding lounge chair. He liked their backyard, and the way that beyond the fence a dense wood whispered to him. It reminded him of home in Atlanta, only the wood behind his house there was a pine wood. This one was oak, maple, and ash, and he knew that when winter came, there would be no cover, only a web of branches between them, some power lines, and the back of a shopping mall.
Troy got lost in Seconds Away, thinking the main character, Mickey Bolitar, was pretty cool. When someone kicked his foot, Troy jumped. The book tumbled to the grass.
“What!” He looked up into a face so familiar, and yet so different it sent a shiver right through him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TROY’S FATHER SMILED AND showed a new gold tooth. His spiked hair was reddish-orange instead of brown, and he had a beard. With a gold loop hung from one ear he looked like a cheesy pirate. “How’s my boy?”
“Dad? What are you doing here?”
“Where else should I be?” His father scooped up the football from the grass and tossed it into the air before catching it.
Troy shrugged, his mind going from point to point on the globe. “Cuba. New Zealand. India? I don’t know. Don’t they want to kill you?”
“They want to kill Drew Edinger, not Sam Christian. That’s me now. Funny you mention New Zealand.” His
father caught the football again and chuckled. “That’s where my passport is from. How are you?”
Everything that had happened and everything that was happening boiled up inside Troy in an instant. He held his breath and felt his face turn color, then let it out with a hiss that ended in a bark of disbelieving laughter.
“How am I?” Troy sang the words with “I” ending on a low note and shook his head.
His father stared. “People say a boy starts to get sassy when his father’s away.”
Troy stared right back. “You mean for the first twelve years, or just these past months when the FBI and the Mafia have been after you?”
“Remember scuba diving in the Georgia Aquarium? How many kids get to do that? The whale shark? That manta ray? Riding around in a Porsche Carrera? You weren’t complaining then.”
Troy’s mouth hung open.
“See?” His father stood a bit taller.
“No, I don’t see,” Troy said. “I can’t even go to St. Stephen’s, and the public school I have to go to has a dog poop football team. That’s if they have football at all.”
“Problems are just obstacles.” His father smiled. “You can go over them, under them, around them, or through them.”
Troy didn’t return the smile and his father’s face got more serious. “Look, Troy, I know I’ve had my issues, but I know how to stay out in front of things. Trouble is something I’m good with, so . . . what do you think? Can I help?”
“Sure. Got a spare five million dollars?” Troy watched his father wince as the arrow hit home, but it didn’t make him feel any better. In fact he felt worse, and his voice grew tired. “Why are you here?”
“I know things have gotten tangled up, but I care, Troy. I care about you.”
Despite everything, Troy felt his heart swell with hope and . . . he guessed it was love, and that made him mad. “And you have a plan, don’t you?”
His father laughed. “What are you talking about?”
The words gushed out of Troy’s mouth. “If you know what’s going on with me and the Jets, you can bet on the games, win some money.”
His father huffed. He dipped his face down and touched his own chest. “Me? I . . . How did you know?”
“It’s like football.” Troy didn’t try to keep the disgust out of his voice. “Sometimes the pieces just come together and I know exactly what’s going on. At least you didn’t try to deny it.”
“Well.” His father found his smile again. “I can’t see how a little inside information would hurt anyone.”
Troy suddenly wanted his father to leave. “Do you know what Mom would do if she knew you were here?”
“Call the police?” His father put the football under one arm and held out the other hand for Troy to shake. “Got it. I’m going anyway. No need to worry about me. Good luck, son. You don’t have to love me back, but I love you.”
Part of Troy wanted to shake his father’s hand, but he couldn’t. Not after what the man had done and what he wanted to do now. When his father took his hand back, Troy wanted to cry out, but his father had already turned and was halfway across the lawn before Troy’s thoughts were anything but a jumble.
When the man reached the corner of the house, he turned to look at Troy and flashed his grin.
“Catch!” He fired the football at Troy.
Troy’s hands snatched the whistling ball from the air. He caught it, but it stung.
“You know what?” His father’s voice carried across the lawn as confident as ever. “One day you’re going to need me, Troy. And one day I’m going to be there for you when no one else will.”
The words stunned Troy. They were so similar to what Seth Halloway had once said to him. Troy gripped the ball, bit into his lower lip, and blinked.
In that same instant, his father was gone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WHEN THANE AND TY pulled up in the big black Escalade, Troy was over the little scene with his father, having stuffed it into the same back closet where he kept the fleeting memory of the Georgia Aquarium. What made him more uncomfortable now was the shabby house he and his mom were living in. So he jumped into the SUV and slammed the door shut behind him.
“Okay, let’s get out of here.” Troy clapped his hands. “I’m ready.”
“Sure.” Thane put the truck into gear and Troy’s stomach crawled until they reached the better part of the neighborhood where the homes were more in line with where Ty and Thane lived.
“We’ll be moving into one of these as soon as we get all this junk worked out.” Troy pointed at a large brick mansion on the corner.
Ty and Thane looked at each other and shrugged. Troy huffed to himself. They might not care, but he did. At least when they came to dinner that night, the sun wouldn’t be shining on the peeling paint.
Once they were away from Cedar Street, Troy found he was glad for Ty and Thane’s company. It was exciting to have a cousin who was an NFL star, and someone like Ty who shared so many of the same dreams. Soon they were talking about pro football and how long it would be before the NFL took over the world.
When the conversation turned to how Thane would be leaving in a couple of weeks for training camp and Ty would be staying with their housekeeper, Troy got an idea.
“If your brother lets you play in Summit, maybe you could stay with us. We could get in lots of practice throwing together.”
Troy looked for a positive reaction from Thane. His older cousin said nothing, but Troy took that as a good sign.
When they got to the facility, Thane took Ty to the field before he went inside to work out with the team.
“Meet you out back.” Troy tossed his football to Ty, then went in to find the owner.
The Jets had a new facility that looked like something from the future, all white and glass and chrome with a big, barnlike structure in the middle of everything that housed the indoor field. On the second floor, he found Mr. Cole in a huge office overlooking the four grass practice fields out back. The Jets’ owner sat behind his desk talking on the phone. Troy glanced out to see Ty in his Jets T-shirt, then back to Mr. Cole, who was all business. He wore a crisp dark suit and a blue shirt with a deep blue tie. There were flecks of gray in his dark hair Troy hadn’t noticed before, and his black eyes soaked in Troy. He held up a finger and then pointed to a leather couch.
Troy sat down and tried not to listen in on the phone conversation. Outside he saw a boy in a purple jersey approach Ty. Judging by his size, he looked a year or two older. As Ty and the other kid began to throw a football back and forth, Troy wished he were down there with them.
“Troy White.” The owner’s voice startled him. Mr. Cole came around his desk and shook Troy’s hand before he sat down in a leather chair opposite the couch. He crossed his legs and let one foot dangle in the open space between them. “Nice to see you.”
“It’s good to be here.” Troy tried to sound confident.
There was something so powerful about the NFL owner, something almost magical, that Troy found it difficult to speak. Also he couldn’t free his mind from the idea that all he had to do was ask and if the owner wanted to, he could make all Troy’s problems disappear. The owner could advance Troy money on the second year of the contract and—snap—just like that, he’d be at St. Stephen’s. The temptation was extraordinary, but something about the intensity of the owner’s eyes, and his mother’s voice in the back of his head, kept him from asking.
“You all settled in?” the owner asked.
“Yes.” Troy tried not to frown at the image he had of the shabby house.
“Good, and set with a school?”
Troy sucked in his breath. There it was, the opening he needed. It was right there, and Troy knew that when opportunity knocked, it usually happened only once.
CHAPTER NINE
“HONESTLY, MR. COLE? I’M not set.” He studied the owner’s face to gauge his reaction. The owner gave away nothing, but inclined his head for Troy to go on.
&nbs
p; An antique clock ticked beneath a glass dome on the desk.
Troy took a breath and went for it. “You heard about all that stuff with my father and the FBI, right?”
“I read about it.”
“So, all the money you paid me is . . . well, it’s not gone, but the FBI seized it, and it could be years before I can get it. But it’s still mine—that’s what the lawyers say—so the IRS wants the taxes.” Troy spoke carefully, wanting to get it right.
“That’s the way it works, yes.” The owner narrowed his eyes. “So, you’re in a pinch . . . financially.”
“And I was hoping to go to St. Stephen’s to play football,” Troy said. “It’s a private school and it’s pretty steep. They’re a powerhouse.”
“And that can’t happen now.” The owner frowned. “But if I advance you even more than the five million I already gave you, your problems will be solved . . .”
Troy stuck his hands under his legs and crossed his fingers.
He gave a nod.
CHAPTER TEN
THE OWNER SMILED, BUT then the smile melted like a snowflake on a stove. “I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to understand, but this is business, Troy. I like you. I like your mom. That’s not what this is about. I’ve paid you a lot of money and I need to see a return on that before I start giving out more money.”
The owner stared until Troy shifted in his seat and uncrossed his fingers.
“Sometimes a dark place brings us to a light brighter than we ever imagined.” Mr. Cole shifted his gaze outside the window. The emerald grass down on the fields seemed to glow.
And then it was over. The opportunity, Troy knew, had passed him by.
Mr. Cole perked up suddenly, as if coming out of a trance. “Great. Well, you make yourself at home here. You can come and go whenever you want. The team will be gone in a couple of weeks—we go to upstate New York for training camp, Cortland College—but I’ll still be around here with the rest of the front office. Nice fields, right?”
