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“No way.” Carl’s face is more pinched than usual. “Dude’s toast. Done for. The body’s gone cold, my brother.” The guy likes his hyperbole, something Sebastian learned in freshman gym when he nailed Carl during a friendly baseball game. Carl rolled around the field for half an hour, claiming a dislocated shoulder.

Rollins sighs. “Damn.”

That’s the thing about Willie; he’s loved by the newbies, too.

Pressing his brow on his forearm, Sebastian rests against a closed locker. Coach Rivera was the one who told him, not Willie. Sebastian doesn’t blame Willie, though. Being told your high school sports career and any future plans to play have gone up in smoke is pretty heavy. Sebastian would be in far worse shape; he commends Willie’s upbeat attitude.

Hunter walks up, towel hanging from his neck. “We’ve got a good replacement,” he says.

Carl growls under his breath. “You’re effin’ brain-dead.”

“Who?”

Hunter turns to Gio. “Emir.”

“Shah,” Carl says, incredulous. “Can you believe that shit? You can’t replace Will withthat guy.”

“Why not? He’s got the skill.”

Sebastian peeks over his shoulder. Carl’s upper lip is curled. He wants to put his fist through Carl’s face, but he’s staying out of it. Carl’s a jerk. At least the whole squad isn’t on his side.

“I dunno,” Rollins says. “I saw him keeping up with Zach. He’s cool.”

Carl points a thick finger in Rollins’ face. “No one asked you, frosh.” He turns to Hunter. “He’s aflake. Most of us don’t hang with him at school, anyway.”

Sebastian’s left hand clenches into a fist. Carl’s still mouthing off, and Hunter is arguing back, but with less heat. Carl needs to shut his stupid mouth. And then it hits Sebastian: Carl’s second string, and the next in line for Willie’s position. Emir on the team means less playing time for him. And that’s so ugly, because they’re a team. One for all, and all that shit.

“What about you, Hughes?” Carl sniffs; his face looks warped when Sebastian turns around. “We can survive without Shah, right?”

Sebastian’s eyes narrow.

And it’s as if Carl’s aware he hit a nerve, because he says, “Shah’s notmyteammate,” with a venomous smirk.

Heart hammering in his ears, Sebastian stalks up to Carl. He spits, “I think you should shut the hell up and quit badmouthing him.”

“Why?” Carl’s not as tall as Sebastian. He has to tilt his chin up to stare Sebastian in the eyes. “Shah got you sweet on him or something?”

“No, I stick up formy team. He’s one of us.”

“Sounds like he’s got a stick up you.”

It’s hard for Sebastian to ignore the catcalls around them. His nails are digging into his palm. He imagines his knuckles bloody and Carl laid out on the cement.

Do it.

Carl shows his teeth. “He’snotone of us, Hughes.” He takes one small step closer to Sebastian. “He’s never been like us.”

To Lily’s utter delight, Sebastian’s never been in a real fight, just a few scuffs and scrapes like all kids, nothing serious. He’s willing to break her poor heart to fracture Carl’s jaw.

“What’s that mean?”

“He doesn’t get us, and we don’t get him. Two totally different sides of the world.”

“So, being different isn’t allowed on this team anymore?” Sebastian says, glowering. “Because Hunter is black. Gio is Hispanic. Oh, and Emir is Pakistani.” He steps forward, leaning into Carl’s face. “And Willie is gay, if that’s a problem.”

“Nope.”

Sebastian nods, once. “Then shut the hell up, because this is a family. We’re not douchebags or superior to anyone, got it?”