The players knelt. Every head bowed; every hand found a shoulder. They spoke the Lord’s Prayer as one humble and determined voice.

When it was finished Coach Tucker sent the team thundering toward the bus.

Cole Logan was nowhere in sight.

CHAPTER 12

THE sound of breaking glass brought Cole up off the mattress.

He hadn’t been sleeping, but it wasn’t until he sat up that he realized darkness had fallen outside. He crushed out his cigarette and went to the door. Cracking it open a few inches, he listened down the darkened hall, but heard nothing.

“Mom? What was that?”

“Come here, boy.”

He stepped into the living area. His mother sat on the sofa in a bathrobe and socks. Her bloodshot eyes stared through darkness at the glowing television. Last night’s makeup streaked her face. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, held with the rubber band that had wrapped the morning paper. A broken glass lay next to an open bottle of Southern Comfort on the coffee table.

“You okay?”

Her eyes cut away from Judge Judy. “Glass slipped.”

Her speech was slurred. Cole didn’t know how long she had been there; at least long enough to get through a third of the bottle. She hadn’t been home when he’d returned several hours before. He had passed the time in his room, on his back, burning through Marlboros and Metallica albums. Neither had done much to quell his anger.

“Come sit by me,” she said.

“Not now.”

“Why?”

“Just … not now.”

“We don’t talk anymore.”

“Are you going out tonight, Mom?”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe.” She drank from the bottle, then fell heavily back into the sofa.

Cole spotted her car keys on top of the television and put them in his pocket. If she saw him do it, she made no protest. “Mom, I think you should go to bed.”

“What time is it?”

“Early.”

“Well, then, there’s no reason to . . .” Her words trailed off on a yawn. Her chin fell to her chest.

Cole went to her. He took the cigarette from her hand, crushed it out, and lifted her from the sofa. “It’s all right, Mom. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

He carried her to her room and set her gently on the bed, placing a pillow beneath her head and pulling the comforter up to her chin.

“Wait,” she said when he started to leave. She took hold of his gloved hand, paying no notice to the empty fingers. “It’s Friday, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t there a game?”

“Yeah, Mom, there’s a game.”

Her eyes closed. “You do real good, then, Cole. You hear?”

“Yeah. I hear.” He slipped from her grasp and moved to the door.

“Cole?”

“What is it?”

“Be sweet, boy.”

“I will. Go to sleep now, Mom.”

Lightning flashed, and he saw that she had already drifted off.