Hot Hand by Mike Lupica Read Free Book Online Page A

the cold. Cold didn’t bother Lenny DiNardo because hardly anything did. “I know I’m early,” he said. “But, well, you know.”
    “I know,” Billy said.
    He started to close the door behind them, then stopped, saying to Lenny, “Give me one sec, I forgot something upstairs.”
    He ran back up the stairs. Ben’s door was shut, as usual. Billy knocked, didn’t wait—as usual—before poking his head in.
    “What up?” Ben said.
    “Just wanted to tell you I’m out of here,” Billy said. “And check you out one more time before I left.”
    Ben said, “I just don’t feel good.”
    “You seemed fine when you got up,” Billy said. “I’m just saying.”
    “I was faking,” Ben said, quickly adding, “when I got up, I mean.”
    Billy said, “Or you’re faking now.”
    Ben turned over on his bed, so he was facing away from Billy. “Go play your game, okay?”
    “Not before I find out what’s really wrong with you,” Billy said.
    “You think I’m blowing off piano again, don’t you?” Ben said.
    “Are you?”
    Ben didn’t say anything right away. Didn’t turn around. Billy didn’t know what to say, either. He knew he was the older brother here, by a year. Yet he never felt a year smarter around Ben.
    He’d always thought Ben was the smart one of the kids in the family, as if he was the one who had the most of their mom in him.
    Billy wanted to be smart enough to get something out of him now, as much as he wanted to get out to the car and get to the game.
    The best he could do, still talking to the back of his brother’s head, was this:
    “Well, any time you want to talk.”
    “I don’t,” Ben said. “Have a good game.”
    He headed back down the front stairs. From the kitchen, he could hear Eliza, either talking to Peg or on the phone.
    They all made fun of her and how the only thing she seemed to love more than purses or clothes or shoes or music or Instant Messaging was the sound of her own voice. But the way Ben was acting lately, Billy didn’t mind that sound so much these days.
    At least when Eliza was around, somebody in the house actually seemed happy.
     
He found out in the car that his dad wasn’t coming to the game.
    His dad never missed a practice or a game. But as soon as Billy did everything but dive into the backseat, apologizing for keeping them waiting, Mr. DiNardo said that he’d just gotten a call on his cell. Billy’s dad, he said, had some big emergency with his biggest client and had to go straight to his office.
    Now neither one of his parents was having a weekend this weekend, Billy thought.
    “So I guess you guys are stuck with me today,” Mr. DiNardo said.
    Billy and Lenny didn’t act as if they were stuck with anybody. They pretty much reacted the way you did when you walked into the classroom and saw an easy substitute teacher you’d had before, one who will let you do pretty much whatever you want to, short of having a spitball war.
    “High five,” Lenny said.
    Billy gave him one that produced a loud slap.
    “Bump,” Lenny said.
    They bumped fists.
    Mr. DiNardo, a funny guy who was the morning disc jockey on the town radio station, was checking them both out in the rearview mirror while they were stopped at a red light on Cherry Street. He said, “For a game this big, you guys have a lot of confidence in me.”
    Lenny looked at his dad in the rearview mirror. The two of them looked exactly alike to Billy, and now they had the same grin on their faces.
    Just like that, Billy couldn’t believe how jealous he felt, just looking from one face to the other, seeing again how much the two of them liked each other. Trying to remember the last time it was as easy being with his dad as it was for Lenny to be with Mr. D.
    Sometimes Billy wished he and his dad could like each other as much as they said they loved each other.
    “It’s not exactly you we’re confident about, Pop,” Lenny said. “It’s us. ”
    “Hold on to that thought,” Mr. D said.