Upstander by James Preller (free ereaders .TXT) 📕

laugh. “I’ve got to go home in a few minutes—” he began.

Griff bounced the ball back with a one-handed fling. “We’re just busting on you,” he claimed. It was Griff’s way. Friendly one minute, threatening the next, and laughing a moment later, all so no one knew exactly where they stood. There was no clear, firm ground. Griff enjoyed playing with people, like a puppeteer pulling on strings, to see how they reacted under pressure.

Mary feared for this boy. It had already been a bad day, and Droopy added a thuggish element.

“Come on, Griff, let’s go. I’m bored,” Mary urged.

Griff looked at her, nodded once, as if she had made the most reasonable suggestion he’d heard all week. Leaving was a great idea. But he didn’t move a muscle. “So,” he said, in that casual manner of his. Just letting the word hang there like a birthday piñata before finally pressing the question, “You really didn’t see a kid come through here? For sure?”

The boy blinked. He knew that Griff knew. “I’m just shooting around. I’m like in my own little world out here.”

Griff replied that he’d take Eric’s word for it—in a way that implied he wasn’t buying it. The lie was a painting in a museum and they all kind of stood around, looking at it. For some unknown reason, this new kid was willing to lie to protect David Hallenback, a stranger he didn’t know.

Interesting, Mary thought. A hero in red basketball shorts.

The boy tried to salvage the situation. He reasoned, “I mean, I think I would have noticed somebody if—”

“I gotcha,” Griffin shot back. “Loud and clear.”

They talked some more, Griff mostly full of sarcasm, lies. “We’re just looking for one of our buddies, that’s all. You can understand that, can’t you?” Griff snapped his fingers. An idea popped into his head. He proposed a simple wager: the boy had to take one foul shot from the line. If he hit the shot, he would be allowed to keep his own basketball.

Cody and Droopy perked up, giddy and volatile.

“This is so lame,” Mary groaned. She didn’t want to see what would happen if the boy missed.

“What do I get if I make it?” the boy asked.

“Ho-ho!” Griff laughed. “Now you’re bargaining, huh?”

Having no choice, Eric agreed to the bet.

“I bet a dollar he makes it,” Mary volunteered. Eric looked at her. Didn’t smile or nod, just blankly looked at the girl on the bike. Mary knew what he saw: she was one of them. It didn’t make her feel good.

“You like the looks of him, Mary?” Griff guessed. “The new boy in town?”

Griff knew. He always knew. He had an x-ray gaze for seeing inside people, for knowing what they felt and thought. It was uncanny and very creepy. Mary didn’t like the feeling of exposure it gave her. It was like he could look right through her.

“Let’s just get this over with, Griff,” she said.

Eric tossed up an air ball, a total choke, and lost the bet. He closed his eyes, shook his head a little, angry at himself or maybe just too stressed to shoot straight.

“Air ball!” chortled Drew P.

Griffin set the ball on the ground, resting his foot on it, and let time slowly pass. Then he gently rolled the ball back to Eric.

“I’m disappointed in you, Eric,” Griff commented. “I really thought you’d make that shot.” Griff grinned and lifted his bike off the ground. “We’ll see you in school. Who knows? Maybe we’ll have a few classes together. Wouldn’t that be special?” Griff grinned and pedaled away with the others falling in line. They left the boy alone on the court, dazed and confused but unharmed.

“Wait here,” Griff told them, and made a U-turn back to the basketball court. Mary and the others watched from fifty yards away. Griff and Eric seemed to talk in a friendly way, a movie on mute. They exchanged smiles and tapped fists. Griff returned.

“What did you say?” Mary asked.

“I told him that I was a good guy to be friends with,” Griff said, “and a lousy enemy.” He laughed. Cody and Droopy joined in. “I also told him that you think he’s cute. Isn’t that right, Mary? I saw you looking at him, panting like a dog.”

Griff didn’t wait for a reaction. He zoomed up ahead, leaving them to follow, knowing they would.

22[tennis]

The text from Chantel had come out of the blue: I’m back from camp! Missed you. Let’s get together soon! Free Monday?

Mary hadn’t even remembered that Chantel was away at camp. Out of sight, out of mind. But after thinking about it, the fuzzy details emerged from her memory. Chantel went away for two weeks to some progressive camp somewhere in the Berkshires. Activities galore and killer mosquitoes and no phones, no internet. Mary had never been to a sleepaway camp herself, so she had a hard time imagining what one was actually like. Most of what she knew came from random comments from friends or things she’d seen in movies. To her the idea of camp was a mixture of cool things (cabins, a lake) and vaguely horrifying things (icky campers, too much singing, peppy counselors, and forced good cheer).

That explained Chantel’s silence. She hadn’t just conveniently disappeared. And now Chantel was back again, which was definitely going to be awkward. Meanwhile, Chrissie and Alexis were still vacationing together, probably best-friending themselves into a dither, forgetting all about Mary, the unnecessary third wheel, who was stuck at home during the dog days of late summer.

Jonny had moved out. It changed the house. Not back to normal, exactly, but it no longer felt like there was a bomb about to go off at any second. So that was good, the no-bomb feeling. Still, Mary found herself wondering about her brother, hoping he was okay, and happy, and staying clean, without knowing the answer to any of those things. One positive outcome was that he hadn’t lied about the bagels. They were