“Something important?”
Important? Only the magic cap that made my life a dream come true.
But Coach was not the guy to explain this to. He was tough as nails. Hyper-serious. He wouldn’t buy the magic-cap business, or that any cap, magic or not, was worth blubbering about, especially if you were a starter on his basketball team.
“No,” I said. “Nothing important.”
He gave me a quick nod, satisfied with this answer, then strode away in his crisply creased slacks. (He had to dress up on game days, too.)
I ran to the Lost and Found. The cap wasn’t there.
I asked around. No one had found it. No one had seen it. That was because it was gripped in the dastardly thief’s villainous clutches.
There would be no point asking my dad for another cap. It was a prototype, a model of a cap that wasn’t even available to the public yet. There couldn’t have been many of those lying around, waiting to be handed out to new employees’ kids, especially to those kids who had already lost one. And even if Evan did find me another prototype, what were the chances it would be lucky? I mean, Kap couldn’t be making lucky caps on purpose.
Could they?
Maybe Dad would get in trouble if Kap found out I lost their prototype—the secret cap they stupidly trusted me with. Maybe he’d even get fired!
Maybe, I thought to myself, I shouldn’t be running around telling everyone I’d lost it. What if Lupe got word of it? She’d go right to Dad.
I decided not to report the cap missing to the office or to the police or the FBI. Other than Evan and the people at Kap, no adults would care anyway. They would say that it was just a hat and that there was nothing they could do about it. Adults have screwed-up priorities.
No, I was on my own. I was going to have to solve the case myself.
Obviously, someone stole the cap. But who? There was a school filled with suspects. I started a list:
Chase was at the top because he was mad at me, because Misa liked me instead of him, and because I was starting instead of him.
Then came Lance, who would have stolen it because he hated me, because Chase was mad at me, or both.
Kai also could have done it. He felt rejected and abandoned. I hadn’t seen him in the crowd during the rally. But, then again, he’s so short I could have missed him.
Kyla felt rejected, too, and was bad-mouthing me. Would she have gone into the boys’ locker room out of spite? Yeah, probably.
Iris might have arranged it as a gag, to teach me a lesson, to bring me down a peg. It was a long shot, but not out of the question.
Giovanni? How mad was he that I’d beaten him out for president? Mad enough to steal the thing that got me elected? Without a doubt.
And the other candidates for class president?
And the other forwards who had hoped to be starters?
And all those people who loved the cap—in other words, everyone? Including Analisa. Especially Analisa.
Who knows? Maybe Evan found out I ran for class officer against his advice and decided to take the cap back in retaliation.
Okay, maybe that was far-fetched. But even without him, I had a really long list of suspected thieves.
I decided to start at the top of it, with Chase. He had been in the locker room around the time of the theft. As second-string forward, he would benefit from me not having my cap for the game that night. And he was sore at me because a girl he liked liked me. He looked mighty guilty.
He was also technically my best friend. But was he? Maybe all he had ever wanted from me was the cap.
I made up my mind right then: Chase was the thief.
I had till game time to find where he hid it; otherwise, I would be luckless for the game.
The team, the coach, the managers, the statisticians, the cheerleaders, and the driver boarded the bus after school. I didn’t ignore anyone, but I didn’t speak to anyone, either. This seemed fine with Chase. He was mad at me. The feeling was mutual. When we did make accidental eye contact, he squinted and looked away.
A fan bus followed us to the game so we’d have a cheering section in Lardo. Even so, the reaction when our starters were announced over the loudspeaker was nothing compared to when the Wranglers’ names were called out. The whole gym rattled. Too bad our first game had to be on the road.
We got the ball at the jump. River tipped it to Ryan, who brought it down court and passed off to me. I faked a pass, and the guy on me got caught fat-footed, leaving me an open path to the hoop. I broke by him, but somehow, instead of the floor, I bounced the ball off my foot, and it ricocheted into the stands. The crowd laughed.
The lucklessness had begun.
“Get back on D! Back on D!” Coach yelled over the laughter.
We set up our defense down on the Wranglers’ end of the court. My guy danced around, trying to get open.
“Hey, bro,” he said to me as he danced. “You know this is basketball, not soccer, right?”
Ha-ha.
Pop. The ball was in his hands. He spun one way, then another, then broke for the basket. I drifted back, trying to stay between him and the hoop, and backed into a Wrangler setting a pick. My guy made an easy layup.
Someone blasted a horn, and the Wrangler cheerleaders cheered for their guy: “J-A-C! C-O-B! He’s the man! The man for me!”
Man? What was he—eleven?
He snickered at me when I caught up with him downcourt.
“I have a feeling this is not going to be your night,” he said.
I had the same feeling.
I missed my first four jump shots. I missed two free throws after Jacob fouled me. I fouled him three times in the first period, which, after he sank all his free tosses, gave his team six points. Then I missed my next three jump shots. I also was called for double dribbling, traveling, and three seconds in the lane. Then I got pulled for a sub: Chase.
He pulled off his warm-up jacket and ran onto the court. Did he give me an encouraging look as we passed each other, or a “You’ll get ’em next time, buddy!”? Nope. He was totally stoked and shot me a sit-down-and-watch-how-this-game-is-really-played-sucka! smirk.
I could only gasp at the depth of his treachery. And give him props. He had planned it beautifully.
He played better than I’d ever seen him play. His jump shot couldn’t miss. He made great moves under the basket: passing, rebounding, blocking shots, intercepting passes. He had game. But, of course, he had the cap.
We ended up winning the game by six points. I cheered as best I could, but it was difficult hiding my resentment. In the locker room, the guys were all loud and happy. I gritted my teeth watching them high-fiving and knuckle-bumping Chase, who’d had a great game. I fired eye daggers at him whenever I could. He shot them right back.
Our fans, including the cheerleaders, mobbed us when we stepped out of the locker room. Misa was in front and went straight for (wait for it) Chase. So that’s how it was—she crushed on whoever was up at the time. Chase looked like a kid on Christmas morning who’d gotten everything he’d asked Santa for.
Analisa was the only one who came up to me.
“Don’t look so glum,” she said. “It isn’t sportsmanlike.”
Did I look glum? I’d really been trying to look thrilled and triumphant.
“You probably heard about my cap, right?” I whispered out of the side of my mouth.
“I heard you were looking for it. Didn’t you find it?”
I glanced around for eavesdroppers, then whispered in her ear, “Somebody stole it.”
I wondered why I kept telling her things I’d decided not to tell anyone. Especially considering she was on my list of suspects.
“Noooo!” she breathed, and set her fingers on my arm. “Oh, Enz, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”
She seemed to mean it, and it felt good to have someone actually grasp the enormity of the tragedy, to have someone really understand what I was going through, that my eyes teared up. I quickly dabbed them wi
th the sleeve of my hoodie.
“Who do you think it was?” she whispered, glancing around.
I glared at Chase. Misa was being extremely chummy, and he was eating it up.
“Chase?” Analisa asked. “But he’s your friend.”
“Why do you think he played so well tonight? And I played so lousy?”
“You don’t believe…” She stopped to rephrase. “You don’t really think you play so well because of a cap, do you?”
I leaned in close to her and whispered, “It’s a lucky cap. It possesses magic.”
It was such a relief to finally tell someone. And bizarre that I had done so to a girl.
“Oh, come on, Enz,” she said, her head tilted. “Magic?”
“You don’t get it. I was nothing before I got the cap. Nothing!” I hung my head. “And now I’m nothing again.”
Analisa stifled a giggle.
“It’s true!” I said. “I have to get it back! I have to! He must have hidden it. He can’t wear it. Not at Stan. Not around anyone who goes to Stan. It’s one of a kind, and he knows it. It’s a prototype, you know.”
“Prototype,” Analisa said. “Yes, you told me.”
“He must have the cap with him somewhere. I don’t think the magic works long distance. Anyway, I always kept it close by when I couldn’t wear it.”
“You’re crazy. It’s not the cap that makes you good at basketball.”
“I’m going to find it. Will you help me?”
“I guess. I’m not going to do anything wrong, though. I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“You think I do? I just want to get back what is rightfully mine.”
“So what do we do first?”
I checked for eavesdroppers, then whispered, “Check his duffel.”
“You can’t break into his personal property.”
“He broke into my personal property. He stole my personal property!”
“You don’t know that, and even if you did, two wrongs don’t make a right.”
“What do you suggest then?”
“Have you asked him if he took it?”
Girls! Talking is always their solution.
“So you think Chase would say, ‘Oh, your cap, Enzo? Oh, yeah, sure… I took that. Why do you ask?’”
Analisa didn’t appreciate the sarcasm.
“No, I didn’t ask him,” I said. “He hasn’t been talking to me for a while now because of Misa. And because he’s sore that I got picked to start instead of him. Now he’s got his precious Misa and the cap, so he’ll probably start the next game, too.”
Analisa checked out Chase and his admirers, including Misa.
“I don’t think he knows it’s lucky,” I said. “He probably just thinks I stunk tonight because I was upset about losing it. It’s very important, Analisa, that he never finds out that the cap has magic. No one must ever find out.”
She chuckled. “I’ll never tell anyone about it.”
“The guys all put their duffels out by the bus to be stowed. I should have a couple minutes to check out Chase’s…”
“Don’t do it, Enzo. I’m telling you, it’s a mistake.”
I was grateful for her concern. But I had to get the cap.
“Wish me luck,” I said, and rushed away.
11. Interrogation of the Cheerleaders, Part One
The cap was not in Chase’s duffel. But I got caught while I was looking for it in Chase’s duffel. By Chase. He made such a big stink about it, I got called into Coach’s office the next day.
“Why did you get into Chase’s duffel?” Coach asked me after I sat down. No beating around the bush when it came to this guy.
“I was… looking for something,” I tried.
“The something you ‘lost’ yesterday?” he asked. He didn’t wait for me to answer. “Did you suspect Chase of taking something that belonged to you?”
How had he figured all this out? Was he some sort of genius? Or psychic? Or maybe wizard? Good or bad?
“No, sir,” I lied.
“This something you ‘lost,’ did you lose it during the pep rally?”
“Yes.”
“Was it in your locker?”
“Yes.” At least I thought it was.
“I saw someone else in the locker room during the rally,” Coach said. “Near your locker, as a matter of fact.”
“You did?” I gasped. “Who?”
“I was ducking back into my office for my clipboard, and I was surprised to see someone in here…”
“And he was near my locker?” I could barely breathe.
“She was. It was one of the cheerleaders. I’m not certain which. I only saw her from behind. She was running for the door to the hall.”
My mind crashed. Then rebooted. Then raced.
Why didn’t he tell me this yesterday? When he found me bawling on the floor? If he was such a genius, why hadn’t he put two and two together?
And why was a cheerleader in the boys’ locker room? And why right before a pep rally? And why by my locker? Was she in my locker? Did she take my cap?
What would a cheerleader want with my cap? More important, which cheerleader would want my cap?
Misa, maybe. She had a crush on me. Maybe she wanted something of mine. Something dear to me. Would she want it enough to go into the boys’ locker room? During a pep rally?
How about Mackenzie? She loved pranks. But this was pretty crazy even for her.
Cassie? The student council secretary? I couldn’t think of a single reason why.
Analisa? No! She would never do that to me.
Would she?
She was a girl, after all, and it was a girl who was in the locker room, and girls were definitely not to be trusted.
I wished Coach had gotten a better look.
“Listen, Enzo,” he said, “if something of yours was taken on school property, you should report it.”
No way, I thought. No squealing. A guy is dead if he squeals.
“I think I just misplaced it.”
“Can you tell me what it was so I can keep an eye out for it?”
“Uh…,” I said, trying to think of a reason not to tell him.
“I see you’re wearing a new cap today,” he said.
It was true: I was wearing one of my backup caps, a truly amazing one, a Kap cap, of course, but not a prototype. Not lucky or magic. Not to my knowledge, anyway. I’d never worn it. Why would I?
“So was it that fine cap you usually wear that you, uh… misplaced?” he asked.
He definitely possessed super mental powers of some kind. There was no point fighting him. I nodded.
“And you thought your friend Chase took it and hid it in his duffel,” he said—not asked. He had everything all figured out.
I nodded again.
“I’m afraid that will cost you a lunch detention,” he said.
My heart fell from my chest down into one of my feet. Detention? Detention? What happened to the think time? Didn’t that come first? Why the bold leap straight to detention?
“Remember,” Coach went on, “according to school rules, three detentions disqualifies you from participating in school sports. So be careful.”
I gasped. Disqualify? No team?
“Also, I want to see you here after last period today. Since the incident happened on a sports-related trip, you will receive a separate consequence.”
I nearly passed out. Really. I don’t know how I stayed conscious. I wasn’t exactly a saint, but I wasn’t used to getting into this kind of trouble.
“You will need to apologize to the team. You will also need to write formal apologies to the principal of Lardo Middle School and to Ms. Kish.”
I gulped. Aloud.
“I’ll have some extra wind sprints for you,” he added. “And that’s all.” Then he looked down at some papers on his desk.
The meeting was over. Time for me to leave.
“C-Coach,” I said, then wished I hadn’t. But I needed to know. “
Will I be st-starting next F-Friday?”
“No,” he said. Not “I’m sorry,” or “I’m afraid not.” Just “No.” Firm. Direct. Final.
“Thanks, Coach,” I said, and left.
Detention is sitting somewhere you don’t want to be sitting, usually for an hour.
I sat and ate my lunch in the Detention Center. I sat with other detainees, as the Detention Center supervisor called us. They weren’t hardened criminals or anything. Just kids. Boys and girls. Mostly boys.
We were released when the bell rang. I walked (not ran—I did not want to get into more trouble) toward the Student Commons. I hoped to talk to Misa before the next period started. I found her among a clump of chattering girls.
“Misa!” I called, and ran over to them.
The girls shut up at once and stared. Then they started whispering and tittering.
“Oh, hi, Enzo,” Misa said without a drop of enthusiasm. What happened here? Where was the dopey smile, the embarrassing compliments, and the getting too close to me all the time? What happened to that crush of hers? Did crushes evaporate, poof, just like that? Having no real experience with them, I couldn’t say.
Apparently, though, they could be shifted, like a sniper changes targets. Misa now targeted Chase. Maybe she was behind the heist after all. Maybe she stole the cap because she was mad at me for not crushing on her back. Maybe she then handed it to Chase to win him over, which was why he played so well. Which was why she started crushing on him! Which was why she stole the cap!
Wait. That couldn’t be right.
“Can I talk to you?” I asked.
The girls giggled.
“Sure,” Misa said. “Go on. Talk.”
More giggling.
“I meant alone,” I said.
“Oh,” she said, pretending to catch on when she’d known exactly what I’d meant all along. “But it’s almost time for the late bell to ring…”
“It’ll only take a second,” I said, and reached out to take her arm.
“Hey!” she said, pulling it away. “Not so grabby!”
“Ooh, Chase won’t like that,” one of the girls said.
“Come on, Misa,” I said, reaching for her arm.
She slapped my hand.
Lucky Cap Page 7
