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When he was friends with Emir, this wasn’t Sebastian’s crowd either. Back then the guys in the neighborhood teased him for being short, chubby, and too clumsy to play street ball. “Bastian the Trashcan” was their favorite chant, everywhere he went. The nickname stuck for too long and haunted him in his bedroom mirror. His mom let him stay inside to play FIFA on his Xbox instead of being taunted. That put a target on his back at school. Bullies love to terrorize kids who isolate themselves; Sebastian was no exception.

“I’m sure he’ll come around,” Willie says. His optimism reminds Sebastian how sports brought him out of his shell. He played basketball, swam, and then dove headfirst into soccer.

“Or he’ll go away, whichever.” Mason changes the subject. “I’m rooming with Charlie this year.”

“Again,” Sebastian and Willie say, synchronized, then laugh at themselves.

Mason says, with a grunt and zero anger, “Get a life.” He leads the way toward their cabins.

Willie, a favorite among the coaches, scored their usual cabin for the summer. He’s proud and embarrassed when Sebastian says, “Sweet, Willster.”

“Here’s to a killer summer, right?”

Sebastian nudges Willie. “Our last summer here.”

“Ourbestsummer!” shouts Mason, and Sebastian puts on his best fake grin. So far, it sure as hell doesn’t feel like their best summer.

3

“It’s good to be back.”Memories hit Sebastian the second he steps into the cabin.

Sunlight spills in from the nearby window; tall pine trees frame a sweet view of their practice pitch. He walks to a twin bed that’s angled awkwardly in a corner. A tattered poster of Keira Knightly has hung over it since their first summer.

“Still stinks, though,” Sebastian scoffs; the stench of dirt and sweat wrinkles his nose. He flops on the bed. Dust glitters in the air like the aftermath of a pixie war. “Smells like you, Willster.”

“Whatever,” Willie says from the other side of the room.

Sebastian runs his fingers along his initials carved into the wall above his headboard. He grabs his jersey from freshman year out of his bag and stuffs it under his pillow the way he does every summer.

“It sucks they won’t get us a TV,” Willie says. Only Coach Patrick’s and the rec room, where they scrutinize film footage, have televisions. Sebastian doesn’t mind. He and Willie can watchThe Walking Deadmarathons on his laptop.

“How long before the first practice?”

“Half an hour?” Willie is already unpacking. He smiles slyly, making a suggestive motion with his hand. “Do you need a little alone time?”

“No!” Sebastian laughs until his eyes tear up. “And I better not catch you!”

Willie has his practice clothes laid out. He flips Sebastian off and says, “You know the rules.” His jeans are pulled low, providing Sebastian a glimpse of pale ass he really didn’t need to see. “Sock on the door.”

Sebastian gazes at the ceiling rather than Willie’s shameless nudity.

“What’s up with Mace and what’s-her-name?”

“Valerie,” Sebastian tells him.

“Yeah. Val!” Willie grins lewdly. For a gay guy, Willie’s maintained a ridiculous crush on Mason’s ex-girlfriend.

Wait—is she an ex? Sebastian doesn’t know. Mason’s love life is very confusing, which Willie’s decided needs immediate attention.

“I don’t get them,” he says, pulling on a snapback. He’s a typical frat-boy-in-training, and Sebastian can’t decide if he likes it or not. “They’re always breaking up. Is he gonna cool it off before college?”

“You never know with Mace,” Sebastian replies, turning on his side. He stares at scuff marks from their cleats on the hardwood floor. “It’s never a clean break. Period.”

His experiences with romance have been like boxing Floyd Mayweather, Jr.—you never win.

“She’s a sweet girl,” Willie says.

“That’s why Mason fell for her.”