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with his instrument case, Ben could still hear the music in his head.
    “That was wonderful, Ben,” his father said as he got behind the wheel. “You kids did a terrific job.”
    “Adam and Tina were fantastic,” Ben’s mother added. “You’ll have to tell them that at school tomorrow.”
    “I don’t think you’ll have school tomorrow, if you ask me,” Mr. Williams said, shaking his head. “It smells like it’s going to snow.”
    “
Smells
like snow?” Ben asked.
    “When you grow up in New England like I did, you can always smell a snowstorm coming. And I’m telling you, it’s going to snow tonight.” He pointed to the windshield. Sure enough, a few snowflakes were already hitting the glass. “What did I tell you?”
    Ben’s phone beeped, telling him he had a text.
    “Who’s texting you?” his mother asked.
    “Logan,” Ben said, checking the message. “If we don’t have school tomorrow he wants to go sledding at the golf course.”
    “Well, get some sleep tonight, just in caseyou do have school,” his mother told him. “Remember, when you were little, you used to sleep with your pajamas on inside-out to get a snow day?”
    “Yeah,” Ben said, embarrassed.
    “You won’t have to,” Mr. Williams said. “Look.” The snow was swirling now in the night air, dancing in the car’s headlights.
    “Hey, isn’t that the Westwood Rec Center, where you guys play basketball?” Ben’s father asked.
    Ben looked out the window. “Yeah, but we can’t play there during the season. Coach won’t let us.”
    “Do you mind if we stop?” Mr. Williams asked. “I’d like to see the place.”
    “It’s getting late,” Ben’s mom said. “It’s after nine o’clock.”
    “It’ll just take a minute.”
    After Mr. Williams parked the car near the Center, he and Ben hurried toward the building with their heads down against the falling snow. They stepped though the doors and brushed the snow from their hair and jackets. Inside, there was no one behind thedesk. The rec center seemed strangely quiet and empty.
    Ben could hear noises from the gym. He went over to the Plexiglas window to check out the action.
    “Sounds like a game,” his father said, coming up behind him.
    “Yeah, look,” Ben said. The gym was empty except for ten players battling for the ball in a fast-paced game.
    Ben’s eyes locked on a player in red shorts, dribbling upcourt. The kid pushed a perfect one-hand bounce pass to another player, who cut to the basket for an uncontested layup.
    Ben couldn’t take his eyes off the passer.
He looks like Hud
, Ben said to himself. Sure enough, when the kid jogged back on defense, Ben saw that it was definitely him.
    Mr. Williams turned to Ben. “That’s one of your teammates, isn’t it? I thought you said …”
    Ben turned away from the window. He didn’t want Hud to notice him. “Come on, Dad. You’ve seen the place. Let’s get going,okay?” He moved quickly past the front desk to the doors.
    His mind was racing. What was he going to do? Hud was definitely breaking the team rules by playing at Westwood.
I’m the captain
, Ben thought.
Should I tell the coach? Or should I just talk to Hud myself?
    Ben stepped outside and saw more snow swirling in the dark. The sidewalk was already slippery.
    “I guess your New England nose must have been right,” Mrs. Williams said as Ben and his father settled into the car.
    Ben sat back without a word. He hoped it would snow all night so school—and practice—would be canceled tomorrow. He needed more time to think about what he was going to do about Hud.

Chapter 9
    B en and Logan pulled their toboggan through the fresh snow blanketing the rolling hills of the golf course.
    “Are you sure it was Hud?” Logan asked.
    “I told you, I’m a hundred percent sure,” Ben answered. “He was playing full court with Donut, Hi-Tops, Helicopter … all the guys.”
    “By the way, where are we headed?” Logan asked.
    “To the twelfth hole.”