She looks at me as if in shock. As far as I know, this is the first compliment I’ve ever given her. Another thing: I’ve never noticed how big and green her eyes are before, and there’s a reason for that, I finally realize. She’s not wearing glasses! Those thick lenses and ridiculous frames are history. Thank God.

“Thanks, Zach,” she says and looks down again.

“So, are you sticking with football for senior year?” Mr. Foster asks.

“It’s summer. I’m trying not to think about football.” I pause. “Hey, you know Coach Horton, right?”

He laughs. “Yeah, I know Hank Horton. He’s all right, I guess, but don’t believe everything the guy says.”

“Oh, I don’t,” I say. “Trust me. I mean, people worship the guy, but there’s always been something about him that creeps me out. He’s a great football coach, but … I don’t know.” I shrug. “Never mind.”

“Well,” Mr. Foster says, “I can tell you that he doesn’t exactly practice what he preaches.”

I’m not sure what to make of that comment, so I say, “My dad thinks Horton’s a god.”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

An awkward silence.

“Well, it was nice seeing you, Mr. Foster.” I turn toward the living room, where the basement stairs lead to Tank’s underground palace.

“Hey, Zach, wait a second,” he says. I stop and turn. “Anybody ever tell you you’d make a good cop?” I shake my head. “You’re a quick thinker and you call things like you see them.” He shrugs and looks down at his gun. “I deal with a lot of dishonest people in my line of work. You seem like an honest guy. I hope you stay that way.”

“Thanks,” I say, deciding now is a perfect time to make the play I was thinking about on the porch. “By the way, Huey Dawkins was asking about you the other day.”

“He was?”

And he says it in the totally coolest cop way, all calm about it like it’s no big deal. But there is a noticeable change in his body language. He’s not holding my gaze anymore, just studying the bucket of chicken like it’s a textbook.

Sarah looks at me and shrugs.

“What did he say?” Mr. Foster asks calmly.

“Not much. Just wanted to know how you were doing. I think he was drunk.”

“Huey’s always drunk.”

I laugh and decide to press on with the lies. “Oh, and he said he thought your dragon tattoo was cool.”

“He said that?”

“Yeah.”

“Interesting,” he says, looking at me again. “Thanks, Zach. You want some chicken?”

“No, thanks. I just ate.”

“Let Tank know it’s in the fridge.” He stands. “Sarah, I have to make a call. Be ready to leave when I come out.” He reaches for his cell and disappears down the hallway leading to his bedroom.