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school, Liam?”
    â€œOkay. Coach said the whole team was responsible for the loss.”
    â€œThat’s true.”
    â€œBut he didn’t mention Darius at all. That was weird.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œHe acted like Darius was never on the team.” Liam pours dressing on the salad.
    â€œWasn’t Darius the best player?” Mom looks up from brushing Dizzy.
    â€œYeah, but Coach and some of the seniors didn’t like his game.” Liam grabs two salad spoons from the jar and sticks them in the bowl. “Coach emphasizes team basketball, and Darius plays too much one-on-one. At last night’s game, Coach criticized him for playing street ball and not using his head.”
    â€œDoes he say things like that to any of the white players?” Mom stands up and washes her hands.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThat school has a problem it’s not facing up to. Some of those teachers act like they have a homogeneous group of white kids when they don’t anymore. They need to join the twenty-first century.”
    â€œSlow down, Kate,” Dad says. “Horizon’s changing.”
    â€œAt the speed of a glacier.” She rips off a paper towel.
    â€œNew people are moving in and attitudes are shifting.”
    â€œYeah, but people here are so hesitant to challenge the way things have always been done.”
    â€œDinner’s served.” Dad carries the steaming pan of enchiladas to the table. “Let’s pray.”
    Liam reaches out to his parents: Mom with her cold hand and jangly bracelets and Dad with his big hand that’s warm from the enchiladas.
    â€œ Mmmm, smells delicious.” Mom watches Dad scoop up an enchilada for her. “What else is new at school, Liam?”
    â€œNothing.” He does fine in school—As and Bs—but Mom’s always on him to do better.
    â€œHave you been studying vocabulary for the PSAT?” She reaches for her napkin.
    â€œYeah.” He passes his plate to Dad.
    â€œWhat chapter are you up to?”
    â€œI’ve got tons of time. I don’t take it until next year.”
    â€œDon’t procrastinate.” Mom smooths the napkin in her lap. “The PSAT determines National Merit scholarships and it’s good preparation for the SAT. Those scores determineyour college choices, so you need to give yourself the best opportunity.”
    Liam chews his enchilada. She’s so extreme. She obsesses so much about the PSAT, you’d think she was taking it.
    â€œLet that last game go.” Seth pours hot sauce on his taco the next day at lunch. “Forget about it.”
    Liam pushes lettuce around on his plate and tries to shut out the din echoing off the cafeteria walls.
    â€œQuiet down,” Mr. Einerson, the lunchroom monitor, hollers.
    â€œWe beat Plainview by thirty on JV.” Seth sniffs his sugar cookie and takes a bite.
    â€œBut this is varsity.”
    â€œThey’re terrible on varsity, too,” Seth says. “Plainview’s always good in wrestling and terrible at hoops.”
    â€œI hope that’s true tonight.”
    â€œCount on it. They’re so bad, they’ll make anyone look good.”
    Liam crunches his taco. “Thanks…I think.”
    At the next table, three cute girls with straight hair and lots of eye shadow whisper.
    Liam looks over and they giggle. “Friends of yours?” He turns to Seth.
    â€œThey’re ninth-grade cheerleaders,” Seth says. “They’re into you, not me. You’re the big varsity player.”
    In the first half of the game, Liam sits on the bench, tapping his heel. The whistle blows and Nielsen picks up another cheap foul.
    â€œMove your feet. Don’t reach with your arms. How many times do I have to tell you?” Coach pleads. “Bergie, go in for Nielsen.”
    Liam peels off his warm-ups and rushes to the scorer’s table.
    â€œBox out and grab some rebounds,” Coach