From his position on the diving board, Farley Butler had noticed the coach’s subtle exit as well. The head of the boosters flipped on the microphone again. “Where do you think you’re going, Coach?” The crowd chatter faded abruptly. Farley pointed an accusatory finger. “You got a game to coach, Hickham. What say you do your job?”

Hickham continued on his path toward the back gate, seemingly oblivious.

“What if your daughter had been on that bus, Coach?”

The coach stopped and turned, his face devoid of expression.

Farley said, “You can’t bench us all, Hickham! You already did it to Cole Logan. The boy loses two of his fingers, yet still wants to give his all for this team … and you turned your back on him. Benched him. Now you gonna do it to the rest of the team? You owe these boys, Coach. You owe us all!”

Cole turned to catch Hickham’s response, but the coach had already disappeared through the open gate.

CHAPTER 31

YOU got a visitor,” said the cell-block guard through a mouthful of Butterfinger.

Booker stopped doing push-ups.

Manny looked up from his game of solitaire.

Elray farted in his sleep.

“Is it my lawyer?” Booker asked.

“Says he’s a friend of y’alls’. Name of Stubby.”

Booker looked at Manny, who shrugged. “Yeah, we’ll see him. He’s a douche bag, but we’ll see him.”

“You got five minutes.” The guard sauntered off.

Cecil “Stubby” McGraw replaced him at the bars. He wore a Gumby sweatshirt and a pair of pajama bottoms with images of fishing lures on them. His complexion was beet red. He was out of breath, as though he’d been running. Stubby was the Elmwood Badgers’ equipment manager. Booker hadn’t spoken to the freshman since he’d hung Stubby on a towel hook by the waistband of his shorts a few weeks back. It was retaliation for a sideline mishap in which Stubby had mistakenly wiped the sweat from Booker’s eyes with a towel coated in jock-itch ointment. The error had robbed Booker of three crucial minutes of playing time in the game against Claremont High.

“What the fuck you doin’ here, Stubby?” Booker asked.

“I heard about all you guys getting pinched this morning and I—”

“All of us?”

“Yeah, the Badgers. I’ve been on the horn all day. The cops are rounding up the entire team, questioning them about what y’all did to the Jackrabbits’ bus.”

“We didn’t do shit to the Jackrabbits’ bus, fuckface.”

“Right. Of course. I meant to say what they suspect y’all did to the Jackrabbits’ bus.”

Booker looked at the empty cells on either side of him. “If they’re bringin’ in the rest of the guys, then where the hell are they?”