“The point is, last year our team started five juniors, so we’re all back. The five of us have all played together since we were Biddy All-Stars in fifth grade. Troy, Buck, Alec, Damien, and me—we grew up together. We’ve been the starting five since we were eleven years old. This may not seem like a big deal to you.”

But it did seem like a big deal. I never had anything like that. My parents had lived overseas my entire life. We jumped from place to place, country to country, mostly in the Third World. We lived the life of nomads, backpacking, setting up tents, living in small villages. I had no idea what it was like to have friends like that. As I said before, Ema and Spoon were my best friends ever, and I had only known them a few weeks.

“So now,” Brandon said, in his calm, rational, mature voice, “the five of us are seniors. This will be our last year together. We will go off to college and never be on the same team again. We’ve been waiting for this moment pretty much our whole lives. And now, because of you, one of us won’t be a starter anymore.”

“You don’t know—”

Brandon held up a hand. “Please, Mickey, let’s not play humble. You know how good you are. I know how good you are. Troy has always been our leading scorer and best player. Soon it will be you. So he knows it too. You’ve been at this school, what, a few weeks. In that time, you’ve taken his girlfriend and soon you’ll have his spot on the team.”

He was talking about Rachel. I wanted to correct him—I hadn’t taken her away and she wasn’t my girlfriend—but maybe it was better to just stay quiet.

Brandon stood. “Give him time to get used to that, okay?”

“I didn’t steal his girlfriend,” I said.

So much for staying quiet.

“What?”

“Rachel broke it off with him before I ever got here.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Of course it is. And I can’t help it if I’m a better player than he is.”

“I didn’t say you could,” Brandon replied. “I’m just letting you know what’s going on.”

“I don’t care,” I said.

“Excuse me?”

“Troy is a jerk. You’re justifying his bullying behavior—not just of me, but of Ema and Spoon too. He’s been on my case since day one—before he ever saw me take a shot—and he just intentionally whipped a basketball at my face. So, sorry, Brandon, I’m not really in the mood to hear someone excuse his bullying.”

“I’m not excusing it.”