Brandon grabbed the rebound, threw me the ball. I took another shot, waiting for his answer. He seemed to be chewing over the question.

“Troy is a lot of things,” he said. “I know he can be, well, rough around the edges. I even know that he can be a bully. But a liar? A drug cheat?”

We both stopped and looked at each other.

“Yeah,” Brandon said, “I know it’s crazy, but I believe Troy.”

CHAPTER 10

I wanted to go back to the Bat Lady’s house that night, but here was the problem: I had too much homework. I’d been blowing it off for days now, and if I didn’t start working on the essay for history and study for the math quiz, I’d be in huge trouble. I turned off my mobile phone, sat at the kitchen table, and got to work.

First thing Tuesday morning, I had history with my favorite teacher, Mrs. Friedman. Rachel’s desk was empty. I didn’t know what to think, but it really wasn’t a huge surprise. There had been a shooting at her house. Her mother ended up dead, and Rachel ended up hospitalized with a bullet wound. The wound ended up being minor. Physically she was okay. Mentally, well, that was another story.

I had been the one to tell Rachel the truth. I had been warned by her father not to, but Uncle Myron had given me other advice, warning me that if you lie, it never leaves the room. It haunts the relationship forever. That made sense to me, so I ended up listening to Myron.

Rachel and I hadn’t communicated since, and yet if I had to do it all again . . . I don’t know.

The vibe in the school cafeteria was decidedly somber today. Ema and I sat at our usual table in what is often dubbed “Loserville.” Our table could sit twelve, but today there were just the two of us. Usually we were three, and staring at the spot where Spoon normally sat made my chest hurt.

“I’m worried about him too,” Ema said. “But he wouldn’t want us moping around about it.”

I nodded. I had met Spoon in this very cafeteria. He had walked up to me and offered me his spoon for reasons I still didn’t get. In my mind I had started thinking of him as “that spoon kid,” which had been shortened to Spoon. Spoon loved the nickname and insisted that we use it always and forever. If someone called him Arthur now, he ignored them.