So this is what I give him: “Horton forced himself on my mom a few years ago. I just found out about it. Justin saw the whole thing. That’s the real reason he quit playing.”

It’s something.

It’s true.

Not exactly the whole story, I know, but it’s not a lie, either.

“Damn,” Tank says. “That sucks. Did he hurt her?”

“More like she hurt him.” I smile. “She kicked him in the balls.”

“Sweet. So what now, they’ve decided to go to the police?”

“Yeah,” I lie. “Horton’s history.”

“Sounds like it,” Tank says, not offering any information of his own but changing the subject instead, saying, “Well, Horton was right about one thing.” He sniffs the air. “We stink.” He pauses. “I hope Mandy’s still interested.”

And I say, “Well, if she likes skunks, we’re all set.”

Chapter_21

21

We reach Mandy Frack’s house, a huge colonial, and cut across the dewy lawn, walking alongside the home until we come to a tall wooden privacy gate. The gate is unlocked. We push it open and enter an enormous backyard. A tall fence matching the gate surrounds the yard. To our immediate left, an ornate plywood deck borders the rear of the house. I see two outdoor speakers mounted above the sliding glass door. Hip-hop music plays quietly.

The swimming pool is clearly the jewel of the Frack estate. It sits in the center of the yard, a fancy, above-ground, Kayak-style rectangle with a wooden deck surrounded by a fiberglass privacy wall. We can’t see the water, but we hear some light splashing, like somebody’s hands smacking the surface. Tank and I look at each other, shrug, and walk over to the short ladder leading to the deck.

She’s waiting for us, Mandy Frack, wearing a black two-piece and lying on her back on a raft in the middle of the pool, showing the kind of body I thought only existed in movies. She’s seventeen going on twenty-five, with long black hair combed back over her head. Beads of water cover her bronze skin.

No wonder Tank’s so excited.

Despite her beauty, however, I’m thinking only of Sarah, because the sight of this teen goddess in a swimsuit transports me back to that unforgettable morning behind Tank’s house when I kissed Sarah for the first time. I want Sarah to be on that raft right now, not this wrestling groupie. If she were Sarah, I’d be in the water already. But she isn’t Sarah, and the realization that I have to figure out some way to avoid this girl hits me like an oversized hailstone. My stomach rumbles at the thought of being with any female other than Sarah Foster.

Standing on the deck, I notice her eyes dancing over Tank. She doesn’t seem interested in me. Good.