For a few days Booker was certain he had hooked a live one. Unfortunately, that spontaneous whim of passion against the stacked cans of vomit-absorption powder had been a singular occurrence. Since then, Nina had scarcely allowed Booker to lay a hand on her, and things were now becoming as painful as they were frustrating.

“It hurts, you know,” Booker said.

“What, your pride?”

“No, my balls. They’re going to kill me if things don’t get taken care of.”

“Why don’t you take care of things yourself? I thought that’s what you guys did all the time anyway.”

“Coach won’t let us.”

“Excuse me?”

“Coach won’t let us beat off. Says it makes us soft.”

“I thought that was the idea.”

“You know what I mean. Coach says we’ll lose our edge if we do that. Made us all sign a pledge promising we wouldn’t do it for the good of the team.”

“That’s a joke, right?”

He shook his head. “Got us into the district championship game, didn’t it? Undefeated, too.”

Nina flung her hands up. “No wonder all you football players have turned psycho. You’ve become animals this year, all of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look in the mirror, you’ll find your answer.”

“You told me you thought I was good-looking.”

“Right. Thought. Past tense. Last year you weren’t bad. Maybe even semihot. Just my luck I caught you on the down slope.”

Nina was beginning to put a serious damper on Booker’s good mood.

He’d been walking in the clouds all morning until now. The assault on Cole Logan had gone off even better than expected. Especially that business with the cat, which had been an unplanned yet inspired alteration to their original plot. All told, he, Manny, and Elray had pulled off everything without a hitch. The hatchet had gone through Logan’s fingers like they were sticks of warm butter.

Now all Booker had to do was wait around for Manny and Elray to report in on how things had gone at the Killington pep rally. He’d hoped to kill the time sticking it to Nina, but of course she had gone all prude on him again.

“So what’s the hang up here?” he asked. “I mean…I’d wear a rubber.”

“Don’t make me sick.” She opened a compact and reapplied her glitter-flecked lip gloss. “Where are your parents, anyway?”

“Dad’s at work till six. My stepmom is visiting her cousin in Fort Worth till Sunday, and my real mom’s asleep in her room. But she don’t care if we’re messing around. She’s real liberal.”

“Your real mom still lives here? With your dad and stepmom?”

“She hasn’t found a place to stay yet.”

“How long since they divorced?”

“Three years.”

Nina shifted her eyes from the compact. “Can you say dysfunctional?”