He glanced at the door again. Layne was probably on to her next class by now, and he’d missed the first five minutes of lunch.

“. . . the coach will let you back on the team,” Ms. Anderson finished.

Gabriel snapped his head back around. “Wait.” He put a hand on the desk and leaned in. His backpack slid off his shoulder to hit the floor. “What did you just say?”

She didn’t flinch from his tone. “I said you have a week and a half to prove that you’re doing the work yourself. You can’t play sports if you can’t pass your classes. I’ll let you retake the last unit test that Monday, and if you can show that you’re putting the time in, I’ll speak to the basketball coach, and he’ll let you on the team.”

His fists clenched. “But that’s bull—”

The lights flickered, and his breath caught. The sub glanced up.

Gabriel swallowed his words. “Tryouts are tomorrow.” He kept his voice low, even. If he blew the lights again, Michael would flip out.

“And Coach Kanner agreed to hold a spot for you. If you can prove you’re doing the work.”

He wanted to punch something. He’d never wanted to hit a girl, much less a teacher, but right now—

“You don’t have to get an A,” she said evenly. “You just have to pass.”

He gritted his teeth and fought to keep his hands at his sides. “You can’t do that.”

“Actually, you’re right. I should follow procedure and report you to the principal. Then you could sit in his office, take an exam in front of him, and see how you do. Want to handle it that way?”

Fury had his chest in a vise grip. He ground the word out. “No.”

Her voice softened. “I’m trying to help you here. I can give you some extra time after class, if you’d like—”

“No, thanks.” He slung the backpack over his shoulder again and turned for the door. “I think you’ve done enough.”

After school, Gabriel stood on the free throw line in the empty gym and shot an easy basket. Twice.

He kept thinking of what Michael had said the other night, about being surrounded by people, yet not having any true friends. The first few weeks of the season were everything. Figuring out positions, how to work as a team. He’d probably miss the first game. The other guys wouldn’t want him walking onto the team late. He sure wouldn’t.

He’d already been to talk to the coach. He’d done that instead of going to lunch—what was he going to do, sit by himself? Pretty clear where Nick stood. But then the coach hadn’t been too encouraging.

And the one person who’d offered to help him—well, he’d done a pretty good job of chasing her off last night.

He was so fucked.

The halogen lights buzzed more loudly for an instant, and Gabriel closed his eyes. Breathe.

He wanted to pull the lighter out of his pocket, to spin the flame through his knuckles—but getting caught with a lighter could be an automatic suspension. Like he didn’t have enough problems.