“Take it up with Manny,” Booker said. “It’s his family.” He placed his fingers between his lips and whistled. “All right, listen up, assholes. I’ll need all you sumbitches on my defensive squad in the bed of the truck for weight, so get your asses in there soon as I’m done talking. We don’t have much time. The rest of y’all hop back in the cars, park over there in the trees, shut the fuck up, and enjoy the show. And goddamnit, keep quiet.” He looked at Manny, who was dumping a bag of sand over the chain for camouflage. “You set?”

Manny flashed an okay signal. “We’re good, bro.”

“Now, when the deed is done,” Booker said, “we gotta get the hell outta Dodge quick. We’ll lay low for a while, then meet back at the Shake and Scoop around midnight, got it?”

“Yeah, baby!”

“Yeeehhhawww!”

“We’re fixin’ to kick us some Killington ass, baby!”

The boys dispersed to their assigned vehicles.

Manny moved off to his position fifty yards up the road, where he had hidden the barricade.

Elray checked the chamber of the shotgun, then climbed down to the embankment to await Booker’s signal.

Booker retreated to his own post in the weeds near the foot of the bridge. He watched the Mercedes and Lexus creep into the woods. Tommy Larkin reversed the pickup off the bridge and headed into the trees across the road. When he was parked safely among the shadows, he killed the lights but kept the engine running as instructed. Then he stepped out of the truck, retrieved the open end of the chain, and hooked it to his trailer hitch.

Booker looked over at Elray, who sat with the shotgun across his lap, wrapping his mouth around a MoonPie. Booker snapped his fingers to get Elray’s attention. Elray flashed a thumbs-up and smiled through marshmallow and chocolate.

Booker said a silent prayer that Elray wouldn’t fuck up.

He felt pretty good about the situation now, and it wasn’t just because of the beer, although that was helping.

He pressed himself lower into the weeds and waited for the first sign of the Jackrabbits’ bus.

Hermie Tucker’s cell phone vibrated against Hickham’s hip. Coach Tucker flipped open the phone and smiled at the screen.

“I thought we outlawed cell phones on the team bus,” Hickham said in jest.

Coach Tucker snapped the phone closed. “Little good-luck message from the wife.”

“I remember those. You’ve got yourself a real sweetheart there, Coach Tucker.”

Coach Tucker blushed as he plugged a wad of Levi Garrett into his cheek.