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“Sal isn’t bored.”
    Donald frowned. He leaned back on the bleachers and watched the basketball game.
    At halftime, Sherry climbed the six steps of bleachers and walked over to the boys. She was wearing her Chargers track shirt over a black turtleneck, and she had her hair pulled back in a ponytail.
    “You guys recovered from last night?” she asked.
    “Pretty much,” Manny answered. “You running later?”
    “Yeah. Just two miles easy on the track. You?”
    “Same thing.”
    “Might as well do it together,” Sherry said.
    “Okay.”
    “I’ll meet you about half an hour after the game, okay?”
    “At the track?”
    “Yeah.”
    Donald grabbed Manny’s arm. “Wait a minute,” he said. “I thought you were coming to my house after the game.”
    “This is important,” Manny said. “I’ll come over later.”
    Donald shook his head. “You act like it’s the world championships or something.”
    “Maybe to me it is.”
    Donald rolled his eyes. Sherry sat in the row ahead of them, facing the boys instead of the basketball court. She and Manny and Anthony talked about the track meet for most of the second half. Donald didn’t say a thing.
     
    Manny arrived at Donald’s house after supper, fresh from a run on the track. “You and your girlfriend get good and sweaty?” Donald asked.
    Manny felt his face get warm with embarrassment. “We were just running,” he said as he followed Donald up the stairs to his room. “Get a grip. It isn’t like that.”
    “I thought you couldn’t stand her.”
    “She’s okay. I mean, she’s not exactly what I’d
    call sweet, but she’s a good athlete. She’s not so bad if you get to know her.”
    “Seems like you’re getting to know her real well.”
    “We just jogged ,” Manny said, getting annoyed. “Drop it, all right?”
    “Okay, hotshot.”
    “What does it matter to you, anyway?”
    “It matters because you’ve always got something else to do these days,” Donald said sharply. “We used to hang out every day, but now it’s like, ‘No, I got a track meet.’ ‘No, I gotta jog with Sherry.’ ‘No, I gotta work out with fat-boy Anthony.’ ”
    Donald took a seat at his desk. Manny stared at him for a few seconds. “You could have joined the team,” he said.
    “I don’t want to join the team. Get it? I don’t want to run.”
    “All right,” Manny said. “But I do. What’s so bad about that?”
    “Nothing, as long as you remember who your friends are. Me.”
    “You’re my friends?”
    “I’m your best friend.”
    “Yeah.” Manny let out his breath and scratched his head. He started to speak, then stopped.
    “What?” Donald said.
    “Yeah, you’re my best friend,” Manny said. “But you seem to have a problem with me having other friends. What’s that about?”
    Donald gave Manny a hard look. “We used to hang out every day,” he said. “Now you’ve always got something else to do.”
    “True,” Manny said softly. They’d been inseparable for the past few years, spending every afternoon at one of their houses or playing basketball at a playground or just hanging out on the Boulevard. But Manny had found something that really excited him, that allowed him to excel as an athlete. Donald wanted nothing to do with it. So what was Manny supposed to do?
    The boys were quiet for a minute or so. Donald drummed his fingers on his desk. “So, you want to watch TV?” he asked. “Or play a game?”
    “Let’s see what’s on TV,” Manny said. “Maybe make some popcorn or something.”
    “Sounds good,” Donald said. And they walked down the stairs to the kitchen.
    “One question,” Manny asked. “Why did you put those notes on Anthony’s locker?”
    “Who said I did?”
    “Who else would have done it?”
    Donald looked up at the ceiling with a grimace on his face. “Just having fun,” he said. “Too bad if he can’t take it.”
    “He can take it,” Manny said. “But it’s stupid. Knock it off, or I’ll tell