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secret. I can’t tell.”
    â€œGive me a clue.” Liam tosses clothes around as he looks for the uniform Drake gave him to wear to work today.
    â€œIt’s something French.”
    â€œBig surprise. Let me guess. A black beret.”
    â€œNo, nothing to wear. No more questions. I don’t want to give it away.”
    â€œFrench bread, French fries, a French kiss.”
    â€œStop it,” she says. “Though I’d like to give you the last one. I’ve got to go in a couple of minutes. Someone’s picking me up.”
    â€œWhere are you going?”
    â€œA dance. Here in Arles.”
    â€œWho are you going with?”
    â€œSome friends from school.”
    â€œWhich friends?” Liam stares out the window at the bare branches.
    â€œJacqueline and Phillippe. Bernadette and Georges. Jean-Baptiste.”
    Liam goes quiet. Sounds like couples going to a dance.
    â€œWhat’s up there?” Mackenzie asks eagerly.
    â€œNot much.” Dizzy jumps up on the bed, but Liam pushes her off.
    â€œDid you have a game Thursday?”
    â€œWe beat Plainview.” Liam sits down on the rumpled sheets.
    â€œHow’d you do?”
    â€œTwo points. Six rebounds.”
    â€œThat’s good.”
    â€œI miss you, Kenz.” He hears someone talking French in the background.
    â€œI miss you, too, Li. I’ve got to go. My ride’s here.”
    â€œWho’s giving you a ride?”
    â€œJust a friend. Jean-Baptiste. Gotta go.”
    Liam snaps shut the phone that’s already dead.Jean-Baptiste is probably handsome, rich, and drives a Ferrari. What’s Mackenzie doing going to a dance with him? He tosses the phone on the chair. He’s not going anyplace with other girls. He and Mackenzie didn’t talk about it exactly, but he thought they had an understanding.
    Jean-Baptiste. What a stupid name.
    Later that afternoon, Liam straightens display models at Shoe Source at the Prairieview Mall. So many cool shoes to use his discount on. Drake’s already shown him how to use the register, process credit cards, and remove the security tags. Liam examines his black pants, black Nikes, and black-and-white referee’s shirt in the mirror. He pulls at the shirt. He looks dorky dressed up like a referee, but Drake insists it sells shoes.
    The entrance bell rings. “Your turn, Bergie.” Drake nods at a short woman with huge sunglasses.
    â€œCan I help you?” Liam’s zebra shirt reflects back at him.
    â€œYes, I need new shoes for my Pilates class.” The woman makes it sound urgent.
    â€œI didn’t think you wore shoes in Pilates.”
    â€œNo, not in class. I need the right shoes to wear to class.” She fluffs up the back of her hair.
    â€œOver this way.” Liam leads her to the walking shoes. “Any of these would work to go to class.”
    â€œThanks. I’ll look around.” The woman lifts her glasses to study a pair of Pumas.
    â€œLet me know if you want to try anything on.”
    Liam and Drake watch ESPN Classic on the TV above the desk. Dennis Rodman battles through two defenders to grab an offensive rebound for the Chicago Bulls. “What’s the deal with Rodman’s hair?” Drake makes a face like he’s swallowed a toad.
    â€œI think he dyed it team colors for the playoffs.”
    â€œRed and black? Together? Weird.”
    Michael Jordan misses and Rodman grabs another board. “Yeah, but he sure can rebound.” Rodman sets a screen and charges to the hoop when Scottie Pippen’s bank shot rolls off. Rodman tips the rebound to himself, and the Chicago crowd goes nuts. He’s a rebounding machine. Jordan delivers a no-look pass to Pippen, whofinishes with a left-handed jam, and Rodman pumps his fist to the fans.
    The sunglasses woman waves as she leaves the store. “Nothing had the right energy. Thanks anyway.”
    â€œThanks for stopping.” Liam turns