Another time zone away, practice was running late. Matt Jerguessen waited in the stands while his coach raised hell with his teammates, his raspy bass voice booming through the rafters. It was only a matter of time before Coach Winslow came and raised hell with him. Matt wasn’t sure it mattered.
Just-turned sixteen years old, he was supposed to be the sophomore miracle for his prep school team in Minnesota. Matt was supposed to be a lot of things, but at the moment, he didn’t care to be anything. He just wanted to be left alone.
Coach Winslow finished his harangue and the team went back to their drills, accompanied by squeaking shoes, thudding balls and murmured complaints. Winslow shook his head and started up the bleachers. He had years of experience working with privileged youth. Matt seemed to be a pretty typical angry young man and yet not. The kid hadn’t filled out yet and still had that lanky but awkward look about him. He’d look a lot like his famous uncle in a few years, especially with those deep green eyes. Girls seemed to melt around Matt, but he was barely aware of it. Or if he was, he was curiously disinterested. Winslow wondered briefly if Matt was gay, but that didn’t feel right, either.
“Matt?” he asked gently as he approached the boy.
Matt stared straight ahead. “Sir?”
“Cut the crap, Jerguessen. You’re laying down on me. We both know you can do better. What’s going on?”
“Are you trying to tell me you don’t want to be here?”
“Give me one good reason why I should.”
Winslow sighed. “If you don’t want to be here-“
“Coach, I gotta be here. Okay? I’ll try harder.”
“Who’s telling you you have to be here?”
Coach nodded. “Unless it’s understood that your folks want you to be on the team.”
Matt stayed silent. Of course, his folks wanted him on the team. It’s all his dad talked about. Not that his dad ever showed for games or anything.
“You know, I could drop you,” Winslow said.
“You could?” Matt’s eyes glinted with a spark of interest.
“But I can’t imagine that’d make anything easier for you at home.”
“They don’t care about me at home,” grumbled Matt. “As long as I don’t do anything public.”
“Which getting kicked off the basketball team would be.”
“Look, Matt. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve seen a case like yours. Folks want you to make a good name, but don’t seem to care about you.”
“But one thing I’ve noticed about you is you really like playing. When you’re not in one of your moods.”
“I need you, Matt. You’ve got skills and when you’re not feeling sorry for yourself, you’re a damn good player. Can’t that be enough for you?”
“Isn’t there anybody you can talk to?”
“Used to be able to talk to my uncle.”
“Uh, hello? President of the United States? I don’t think he’s got time for me.”
“His old e-mail’s down. The one he had in the Senate. Mom won’t let me have the new one. Assuming she even knows it. And she changed our Internet provider, so my old e-mail’s dead. And it’s not like you can just call up the White House and ask to talk to the president. I tried. They didn’t believe me.”
“Are you kidding? He hates my uncle. And he doesn’t talk to me, anyway.”
“Look, Matt, there’s gotta be some way you can get through. You’ve just gotta put your mind to it. You’ve got your grandfather and great-grandmother. I see them here all the time. And don’t you have an aunt?”
“So keep trying. I know if you put your mind to it, you can find a way through. In the meantime, I need you to get on your game. You’re a good player and a good kid. So what if some parts of your life suck? Make the best of what you’ve got going for you and it won’t matter that your parents don’t seem to care about you.”
“All right. Now get down there and give me twenty laps.”
Matt, still feeling sullen and out of sorts, made his way down the bleachers to the gym floor to begin his laps. His teammates hooted derisively and he flipped them the bird. Aunt June was sympathetic, but didn’t really have any answers for him and he didn’t have her e-mail address, anyway. His grandfather and great-grandma were nice enough, too, but barely knew what e-mail was, let alone Uncle Mark’s address. Uncle Mark was the only people on the planet who really seemed to understand him and his mother had made damned sure he was out of reach.
Coach was right. There were other ways than e-mail and telephone to reach Uncle Mark. It would take some planning and saving. Matt debated just using the credit card his mother had given him, but knew if he spent too much at once, his mother would get called and that would blow everything. It would take a little research and the right timing. In the meantime, he could just play basketball.
Swheatly531: Got a question for you.
Swheatly531: Just noticed you got a really nice pool table and bar in your basement, mind if I add on?
Ladycarla: What do you have in mind?
Swheatly531: Just a big-screen TV and a couple couches. There’s room. I measured.
Swheatly531: Believe it or not, it’s officially top-secret, but it has something to do with that hidden entrance down there.
Ladycarla: Niecy said you still had the hots for him.
Swheatly531: Won’t do me much good with the rest of the Advisory Panel hanging around, which is the point. Gotta fly.
