“Right,” admitted Lucy, taking a wooden spoon to the thick dough. “Not everybody. Take Tommy Stanton, for instance. He just moved into town. What’s he like?”

Lucy was hoping to pick up some information, either about her new neighbors or maybe even the hazing situation, but Sara wasn’t talking.

“He’s okay, I guess, but he’s on the JV team. They don’t count.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say,” said Lucy, grunting as she kneaded the dough with her hands.

“It’s just that the JV guys are immature,” said Sara. “They’re the same age as me but I’m taller than some of them.”

“Give them a chance, they’ll catch up,” advised Lucy, who wasn’t eager to see some senior take a fancy to her little freshman. “You guys can take it from here, okay? I’m going to take the garbage out and then I’m going to watch TV with Dad.”

She was stuffing the black plastic bag into a trash barrel when she noticed Tommy Stanton limping down the road. He was obviously exhausted and stumbled when he got to her driveway so she called to him.

“Hey, want some Gatorade?”

He stopped, bent over with his hands on his knees, and nodded, too exhausted to speak.

She waved and went in the house to get the bottle and when she returned he was sprawled on her porch steps. His skin was white and pasty and his eyes were unfocused, making Lucy wonder if she should call the rescue squad. “You look beat,” she said, handing him the bottle.

He didn’t answer but took the bottle and tilted it up with shaking hands and drank.

“You don’t look too good,” she said. “Should I call your mom or dad to pick you up?”

Tommy’s eyes widened and he put down the bottle. “Don’t do that, please,” he said. “I’m fine. Really.”

Lucy was doubtful. “I don’t think running after practicing all afternoon is a good idea.”

“Coach says we have to,” gasped Tommy. “Every night.”

“Every night? That’s too much on top of practice.”

Tommy shrugged. He didn’t seem in any hurry to leave so Lucy seized the opportunity to question him about the hazing. “You know, I’ve been hearing rumors about the team, about the upperclassmen hazing the freshmen. Do you know anything about that?”

He looked at her warily. “Nah,” he said, ducking his head.

“What about your haircut?” she asked, noticing the quarter-inch stubble. “Was shaving your head voluntary or did they make you do it?”

“We all did it,” he said. “Even the coach.”

“But what if you didn’t want to do it?”

He looked at her as if she were crazy and struggled to his feet. “I gotta go. Thanks for the drink.”

“Anytime,” said Lucy, watching as he limped down the driveway.