“It’s wild,” I admit. “And … thanks. How’s your mom doing?” I ask as an afterthought. “She and my grandma go to church together.”

She lights up at my interest and shares a bit about her mom’s most recent health problems. It sounds like she’s got lots. I try my best to listen, but my mind keeps wandering back to last night, when AK_SalmonGranny asked if I hadn’t been doing fine raising the money myself.

Now that I think more about it, she’s dead right. I was actually doing great.

That realization gnaws a tiny hole in my excitement over everything that’s happened today. Weirdly, it makes me think about fishing with Dad down at Nelson’s pond, and how the best-tasting fish always seem to be the ones that are hardest to land. Those crafty fighters that take all you’ve got to reel in.

Somehow, those fish always taste so much better than one that’s already caught and filleted. Or one someone randomly hands you when you weren’t even all that hungry.

22

An Even Better Idea

Ale’s totally exaggerating about me and Devontae playing one-on-one every single morning before school. Tina and Logan joined us at least once. And I didn’t even drive over Logan’s toes or anything. Thinking about doing it doesn’t count.

Besides, we’ve got to brainstorm some more for our project, don’t we? Even though Devontae’s horse has invited me back to visit, that doesn’t mean we should waste perfectly good time in the morning. Plus, it’s way easier to talk without feeling nervous when we’re passing the ball back and forth and looking at the basket most of the time.

So we play. Instead of HORSE, we shout out names and facts about the people we’re choosing for our project as we try and outshoot each other.

“Dr. Ronald McNair. First Black astronaut. Walked into a segregated library when he was nine years old, ended up leaving with a book to borrow. Died 1986 in the Challenger explosion.”

“Katherine Beattie. One of the top WCMX riders in the world. From La Cañada Flintridge, California. First person with cerebral palsy to land a wheelchair backflip.”

And so on. It’s sort of fun, like we’re not even working on our assignment.

One morning, Mr. Singletary comes over to join us. “How’re the chair plans coming, Emmie?” He fakes, then swipes the ball from Devontae and runs in for a perfect layup.

“Lucky shot,” Devontae jokes.

“Swap those boots for a pair of kicks sometime, and we’ll see,” Mr. Singletary fires back.

“The gear doesn’t make the athlete,” Devontae counters with a grin.

Dr. Grayling has been turning up at the gym door again this week, but now he actually comes in and sits in the bleachers sometimes. Once or twice, he even clapped when I made a basket. He still frowns when I pop a wheelie, but I make sure Mr. Singletary or Devontae stand behind me so he’s got no real reason to fuss.

Just like with Dawn, I feel weirdly pressured to be on best behavior around him, what with this fundraiser in the works. It’s a week away, which seems awfully fast.