As though reading my mind, Spoon gave a small nod and said, “Give her time.”

“So now what?” Rachel asked.

“Nothing,” Spoon said. “Ema said it’s over. It’s over.”

I shook my head. “I don’t buy it.”

“Neither do I,” Spoon said. “But we can’t force it. You want the egg to hatch on its own. You don’t want to break it open. Do you see?”

Everyone in my life was talking like a fortune cookie all of a sudden.

“You break it open if you’re hungry,” I said.

“Stop playing with my metaphors. You got basketball practice, right? Go.”

He was right.

“And,” Rachel said, “I heard about your good news, so it should be a fun time.”

I turned to her. “What good news?”

“You didn’t hear?”

“No, what?”

“They overturned Troy’s positive drug test. He’s back on the team.”

CHAPTER 43

I didn’t know what to make of that. I hurried over to practice and started to dress. Troy wasn’t there, but the mood was definitely buoyant. Guys slapped each other five. A few came over to me and slapped me five too. They thanked me. They gave me fist bumps.

I tried to think about what I might have done.

When I got out to the gym, I spotted Troy shooting under his familiar center basket. A bunch of guys surrounded him and threw him passes. Troy was a point guard, the shortest starter on the team, but he had deadly aim from three-point land. He knocked down four shots in a row. The guys all clapped and cheered.

When I started toward him, Troy broke into a smile. “Mickey!”

Troy and I fist-bumped. He passed me the ball. I took a quick shot and said, “You’re back?”

I guess that I could have said something more obvious, but that was what came out of my mouth first.

“You know it.”

He slapped me five again.

“What happened?” I asked. “I mean, how—?”

Coach Grady blew the whistle. “Three-man weave,” he shouted. “Come on. We have our first scrimmage next Tuesday. Let’s get moving.”

Troy gave me the full-wattage smile again and said, “Let’s talk later. You want a ride home?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, man, I’ll fill you in then. Let’s get to work.”

It was a great practice. We had a lot of skilled players, but Troy was the floor leader. He had the experience and the know-how. He was a natural-born leader on the court. No question about it: We were a better team with him back. Practice was more fun. Everything fell into place.

Except for one small thing.

Brandon Foley seemed unusually quiet.

“All okay?” I asked Brandon during a water break.

“Sure.”

“Great about Troy.”

“Yeah,” he said as though spitting out glass. “Great.”