“Just go easy,” Stubby warned. “I had to mix up several different batches, so the concentration might be a little different than usual.”

“You mixed up the batches?” Manny paled with horror. “No shit it’ll be different! You’re never supposed to mix the batches.” He turned to Booker. “Bro, you can’t take that stuff. It’s like poison.”

Booker didn’t hear him. He was already transfixed by the two syringes and accompanying bottles printed with Spanish labels.

CHAPTER 32

THE cookout was in full swing.

Cleatus Musgrove gazed out over the picnic tables where the Jackrabbits had been devouring their food like pigs at a slop trough for the past half hour. He whistled with admiration. “Boy, Farley, they sure are hungry. Wyatt just polished off his fourth burger and is about to dig in on number five.”

“Good,” said Farley Butler with a skillful twirl of the spatula. “Your boy’s gonna need his energy against Elmwood Heights. They all will.”

“That ain’t no lie. That is, if we can get the coach turned around.”

“Hickham’ll come around, I can guarantee you that.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Farley winked and nudged Cleatus in the ribs. “’Cause he knows that if he don’t, I ain’t gonna continue to pad that fat salary of his.”

The men shared a chuckle and clacked beer cans. Then concern crept into Cleatus’s features. “You know, Farley, it’s the damnest thing . . .”

“What’s that, Cleatus?”

“My boy always took his burgers with the works—lettuce, tomato, pickle, and onion. Now he ain’t goin’ for nothing but the meat.”

“He’s a ball player, Cleatus; he’s going for the protein. Fuck the vegetables. Here, have another cool one.” Farley handed Cleatus a Keystone, cracked open another for himself, and tossed more patties onto the flaming grill. “Eat up, boys! There’s more where that came from!”

“Tell me something, Farley.”

“What’s that, Cleatus?”

“Are you concerned about the boys’, uh, condition?”

Farley stifled a belch. “I was a little concerned at first. But I think what the Logan kid said was spot-on. They’re just shook up is all, might need a little space before they start acting themselves again.”

“So you think Logan’s right?”

“’Course he’s right, he’s their quarterback! Led ’em to the best record this school has ever known. I figure he ought to know what’s going on in those boys’ heads better’n anyone.”

“You have a point. But, hell, they ain’t even talkin’. I hadn’t got a single word outta Wyatt yet.”

“He’s just focused is all.”

“I’d like to agree with you. But heck, Farley, look at ’em. They’re just staring off into space. And that stench . . .”

“Let me ask you somethin’, Cleatus. Has your boy done much talking to you lately … I mean even before the crash?”