When he finished, he still had a few minutes before his mom was scheduled to arrive. Lucas put his ball back in the equipment closet, locked it behind him as he’d told Mr. Collins he would, and headed down the hall for Mr. C.’s classroom.

Before he got there, he heard the piano music, and knew it had to be Maria in the music room.

He had no idea what song she was playing. It sounded like something serious. But it was good. Really good.

Sometimes when Lucas’s mom would watch basketball with him, she would freely admit that she didn’t appreciate the subtle aspects of the game the way Lucas and Gramps did. But she always knew which players were doing things that the other players weren’t.

It was that way for Lucas when Maria was playing the piano. Maybe someday he’d appreciate the music she could play. He’d heard other classmates in the music room. What Maria was doing was different. Better.

He quietly pushed the door open, so as not to disturb her. He had a perfect view of her face, and could see that as serious as the music was, she was smiling.

This, he thought, is her court.

This was Maria alone with her music the way Lucas had just been alone with basketball.

When she finished, he couldn’t help himself. He started to applaud. The sound didn’t startle her. It just made her smile get bigger as she turned on the bench to face him.

“Sneak,” she said.

“Am not,” he said.

“You snuck up on me, one hundred percent,” she said.

“You’re not supposed to make noise when you’re in the audience,” Lucas said.

“Well,” she said, “clearly you snuck in without a ticket.”

“It’s not free?” he said.

“Just for today,” she said. “Next time I’m charging you.”

“I know I’ve told you this before,” he said. “But you’re really good.”

“I can do better,” she said.

“It sounded perfect to me,” Lucas said.

“I could explain why it wasn’t and the places where I messed up,” she said. “But it would be like you trying to explain all the things that happened in your game the other day.”

Maria said her mom was on her way to school to pick her up. They agreed to wait together out front.

“How’s your paper coming?” she said as they walked toward Mr. Collins’s classroom.

“I was afraid you were going to ask me that.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not coming.”

She waited while he knocked on Mr. Collins’s door. Mr. C. was working with Cissy Sullivan, another seventh grader. Lucas just showed him he was leaving the equipment key on a back desk, and said he’d see him tomorrow, and left.

“What do you mean the paper isn’t going anywhere?” Maria said.