Page 3

CHAPTER 3

MARCUS, AGE 12

I don't know who that boy is, but he seems familiar. I feel like I've seen him around town. Surely we’ve played them before.

My best friend Jeremy nudges my shoulder. "Why is Ashton James staring at you?"

"Heck if I know. Who is he?"

"Um, only like the richest kid in town, or like, maybe even the country. His dad runs AJames Enterprises. They practically own everything in Pinecrest."

That explains why he’s familiar. I’m sure I’ve seen him or his family around at some point. It’s a small town.

" Sooo … Why is he staring at you?"

"How should I know?"

"Maybe he likes you," Jeremy says, pumping his eyebrows.

I roll my eyes. "You're ridiculous."

Admittedly, Ashton is cute. He’s tall with classic surfer-dude look and ease about him, the way I imagine people from California would be like. Smooth, golden tan skin and blond hair that’s perfectly styled to flip up at the front, and although I can’t tell what color they are from here, his dark eyes laser into me with an intensity that makes the hairs on my arms stand up.

"You never know," he sing-songs.

I told Jeremy that I'm gay this past summer. My parents have probably known longer than I have, and they helped me navigate and put a label on my feelings. Telling my best friend was no big deal. He’s almost too supportive, always pointing out anything with a rainbow or asking me about boys constantly. His only hangup was making sure that I knew that he ‘doesn’t swing that way’, so I'm not allowed to get a crush on him because it would make our friendship weird. I agreed and assured him I did not think of him that way. I don’t really think of anyone that way yet. I just knew from a young age that I most definitely do not want to ever kiss or marry a girl. As I’ve gotten older though, I thought maybe I could do those things with a boy someday.

My parents bought me all these really embarrassing books about your body and special feelings . As mortifying as they were, they were helpful. Dad said putting a label on myself wasn't necessary, but learning about myself and considering all the different options might help me feel more comfortable in my own skin. I suppose he was right.

Taking a last drink of water before heading back out on the court, I try not to look back over at that Ashton kid. I can still feel him staring at me. It’s weird. I’ve certainly heard of his family, though I’ve never met him in person or talked to him that I can remember. Yet somehow, it feels like I know him, or should, the way he’s been watching me.

Easton Academy has been a tough team to play. We knew they would be. Part of it is the professional training that Coach Dennison says most of the private school kids go through. More than half their team play on the AAU circuit, which is really expensive but gives them a lot of really great experience. Despite the team being challenging to play against, their star player has been surprisingly easy to get around. He’s practically given me the ball every time I've challenged him. It’s like he’s trying to send me telepathic messages instead of defending the ball, and whenever I get close, he flinches away like he’s afraid of me. It’s weird.

They win 34 to 28. After the game, we all line up to congratulate the other team on a good win. Mostly everyone high-fives, but when I reach Ashton in the lineup, his fingers curl around mine in more of a handshake. He’s still staring at me like he knows me, and I get a funny flipping sensation in my stomach when our hands touch.

Coach congratulates us on playing a great game and giving the Easton Eagles a run for their money. We disperse after the huddle, and I run over to where my parents are waiting on the sidelines. One or both of them is always there waiting for me, even though they both work really hard.

"You dominated the court, son!" my dad exclaims, thumping me on the back enthusiastically.

"If that were true, we would have won. They were good. Although, their center, that Ashton James kid, seemed off, like he might be sick or something. I can probably thank him for more than half the points I scored tonight." I look behind me, and sure enough, he’s still watching me. What a weirdo.

Dad looks over my shoulder and frowns. His eyes practically cloud over as he scans the crowd. My father doesn't get angry all that often, at least not around me, but must have seen something to upset him. I turn to see what he's looking at, but he grabs my shoulders and pastes a big, fake smile on his face.

"What do you say we go for pizza? You can invite Jeremy to come along."

"Yeah, okay. Sounds great." As we're leaving the court, I sneak a peek behind me. Ashton is still watching me, looking like a deer in the headlights after my dad got all red-faced and frowned at him like he did. What was up with that?

Later that night, I find my dad on the couch with his laptop open. He's been scouring the internet for whatever legal recourse he might have to save his sporting goods store from being demolished to make way for a new shopping center development. In the meantime, he’s been picking up odd jobs to make up for the slower than usual sales and the likelihood that the business might close soon. Mom has already picked up a job at a restaurant and is training to bar tend at night. I’ve been spending a lot more time at home alone. It’s been a bit lonely with both of them working so much. Dad makes a point to spend some time shooting hoops with me in the driveway like he has for as long as I can remember, and they always make an attempt to come to my games.

"Dad?" I feel bad about taking his attention off the computer, but it's getting late. He's likely to fall asleep right where he is if I don't talk to him now. And given the funny feeling in my stomach, I know I'll probably lose my nerve overnight if I don't ask now.

"Hey bud, what's up?"

"Can I ask you about that kid we saw tonight? Ashton ?"

His eyebrows shoot straight to his hairline. "Ashton James? What about him?"

"You acted kind of strange when you saw him tonight. Plus, he acted like he knows me or something."

"Ah." My dad nods thoughtfully and pats the couch next to him.

"You're almost as tall as your old man—" he starts, but I interrupt him with a pleading look to be serious.

"Dad."

"Okay, okay." He sighs deeply. "There's some history between Ashton’s father and me. We don't get along and haven't for a very long time."

"Why?"

"It's a lot to explain, and I'm not sure you're old enough to really understand.”

“Is whatever happened the reason Ashton’s dad is closing down your business?” Dad raises an eyebrow at me, and I shrug. “I Googled his company. It says they’re going to destroy Market Square.”

Market Square is a large part of our small downtown area, where lots of locally owned shops are. There’s a small park in the middle of all the buildings, and on every second Saturday there’s a maker’s market where people come out and sell stuff they make, like crafts or candles or even vegetables from their gardens. My dad’s sporting goods store keeps a few soccer nets outside for kids to play while their parents shop. It’s one of my favorite things our town does.

“AJames Enterprises wants to bulldoze Market Square and build a shopping center with several large national chain stores that will not only put us out of business, but nearly every locally owned small business in Pinecrest,” he says with a sigh. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound this defeated before.

“And you think he’s going to win?”

Dad looks sideways at me, and twists his lips, like he’s considering whether to say more. I stay quiet and try to convey casual curiosity and maturity so he’ll keep going.

“It’s looking that way.” He clears his throat, trying to mask the emotion—sadness or anger—that threatens.

“Why, though? Can’t they build somewhere else?”

“I can’t say for sure, son. It could just be the price of doing business, like Mr. James keeps saying.”

For some reason, I get the impression he’s not telling me the full truth.

“But you said you two haven’t gotten along for a long time. So it could be something personal.”

“I’d like to believe that Junior has bigger and better things to do than target my small business. It’s not like I’m any competition to him now.”

“Now?” I’m not sure if he meant to say it that way, but it stands out. Also, “ Junior? ”

Dad doesn’t seem to notice my confusion. “So, you and Ashton… you don’t know each other?”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before. He just stared a lot, like he knew me.”

“Hmm. Well, it’s possible his dad takes him to work the way I take you sometimes. Maybe he recognizes your name and came to the realization that there are real people behind the businesses his dad is steamrolling.”

My dad loves his business. When I was little, he was so proud of sponsoring all of my sports teams and hosting fundraisers for the town’s sports and recreation department. It’ll kill him if it gets shut down.

“Don’t worry, bud. Your old man won’t go down without a fight. It won’t be the first time I’ve given Junior a run for his money.” He pats my shoulder. “But it’s probably best to stay away from that kid. If he’s anything like his dad, he’s not trustworthy.”