Blue Star Rapture Read Online Free PDF

time limit.”
    â€œNo time limit?”
    â€œNone. He could take it a couple hours a day, spread out over a week or two if he wanted. Did you take the ACT?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œThen I don’t have to tell you how much easier it would be to get a passing score if you could work with no time limit.”
    T.J.’s head was spinning with data and possibilities. “Why are you telling me all of this?” he had asked. “ I can’t read him the test, can I?”
    â€œNo, but you’re a resourceful young man. Information, T.J. Just remember: information . You’re his friend and you want to help him.”
    It was the part they weren’t mentioning, though, the dollar figures. But T.J. was clever enough to know it would be to his advantage to let the North State people name the amount. “Okay,” he had asked, “how do you get to be 504?”
    Coach Lindsey had used a Chap Stick on the corners of his mouth before answering. “It takes an advocate. Someone who understands that students aren’t necessarily dumb or lazy just because their academic performance is weak. They may be fighting a learning disability that nobody knows about because they slipped through the cracks.”
    â€œWhat cracks?”
    â€œIt usually means that their disability was overlooked somehow or missed by school authorities. Tyron received most of his education in the Chicago public schools; so did you. I don’t need to tell you how many cracks there are in that system.”
    It sort of drew T.J. up in the pit of his stomach to understand that he was in a position to bargain with a major college coach. On anything. He had taken a deep breath before he repeated, “Because I’m his friend.”
    â€œBecause you’re his main man; because you want to help him.” The coach was smiling.
    It had been at this point in the conversation when Tyron approached, so they had gone their separate ways. On the drive home, Tyron had asked right away what Coach Lindsey had to say.
    â€œYou had twenty points, Tyron. He was impressed.”
    â€œNot bad, huh?”
    â€œNot bad at all. Like I say, Lindsey was impressed.”
    â€œJesus.” Tyron tried to stretch, but the car was too small. “So is twenty my average now?”
    â€œYour average isn’t the same as the points you got in your last game.”
    â€œ Tonight is my last game. I got twenty.”
    T.J. let out a sigh before he had tried once more to explain the concept of a scoring average. Tyron listened briefly, but grew impatient. “Tell me what Coach Lindsey said.”
    By this time they were in T.J.’s driveway. It was too cold to turn off the engine, so he left it idling. The bedroom lamp was on, which meant his mother was home. “Coach Lindsey says you have Division One potential.”
    â€œJesus.”
    â€œDo you have to say Jesus all the time, Bumpy? It gets like tiresome, you know what I mean?”
    â€œOkay, but don’t call me Bumpy.”
    â€œSorry. Coach Lindsey also says you’re a project. You have to remember that.”
    â€œOkay, but I don’t know what it means.”
    â€œIt means you’re not ready yet. I showed you the column Gaines wrote. You remember, I cut it out for you?”
    â€œI remember how complicated it was.”
    â€œLet’s boil it down. If you’re a project, that means you have a lot of work to do. You could be a great player if you worked hard at getting in shape, spending time in the weight room, improving your grades, et cetera et cetera.”
    â€œYeah, but don’t forget the payoff,” Tyron had reminded him, with his head down. The thought of hard work was always discouraging.
    T.J. had sighed again while he cut off the engine. He was pretty good at avoiding the pitfall of physical fatigue, but befriending Tyron was an ongoing invitation to mental fatigue. He glanced sidelong at his mountainous