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was something more than an assist to him, a ride somewhere when he needed one. He just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.
    â€œWhy are you so fixed on this guy?” Lee said on their way to Morrison, his hands on the wheel of his BMW.
    â€œIf you see him, you’ll understand,” Drew said. “It was like watching some homeless dude turn himself into Kobe or LeBron.”
    â€œYou don’t get excited when you watch the real Kobe and LeBron.”
    â€œThey’re
supposed
to do the stuff this guy was doing.”
    Lee shook his head.
    â€œOne o’clock in the morning, when we could be watching a movie or playing video games at Mr. Gilbert’s,” he said. “And I’m on my way to the playground.”
    â€œThere’s just something about this guy, you’ll see,” Drew said. “I
got
to check him out again.”
    Just with a witness this time.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    Lee knew more about old-time basketball players than anybody Drew knew. He was talking about old dunkers now as they passed the kids’ playground at Morrison, with its swings and slides and monkey bars. Drew had told him again about the way the ghost had dunked the ball.
    â€œDoctor J, Julius Erving, was the first guy who made people think he could fly before he threw it down,” Lee said. “Made it mad cool to throw it down. There were plenty of other guys who dunked before him, just not with his kind of style.”
    â€œThen came Michael Jordan, right?” Drew said.
    Lee shook his head.
    â€œNo, before him, and sort of at the same time as Doc, came David Thompson. He was supposed to be everything that Michael was in the pros, but he got down with drugs and partying and then
fell
down a flight of stairs in some New York club. Wrecked up his knee and was never the same.”
    â€œI think I knew that,” Drew said. “People talked a lot about it after Jordan invited him to the Hall of Fame when he was inducted.”
    â€œMichael knew what everybody knew about David, what he
should
have been,” Lee said. “Before he messed everything up.”
    Lee knew that Drew wasn’t a big party guy, had never even touched a beer. But Lee talked all the time about guys who had messed things up for themselves in one way or another, how they’d lost their way. Trying to get the message across that he didn’t want that to ever happen to Drew.
    Lee always tried to find ways to tell Drew not to let himself get too spoiled by what he had already, what he was going to have, because sometimes it wasn’t drinking or drugs that could get you sideways, make you lose your way—
    It was just being spoiled.
    Drew was worried that he was going to have to hear that speech again tonight, have to find a way to change the subject or just tell Lee all over again that
he
was worrying about something that was never going to happen.
    But they were coming up on the bad court at Morrison now, and both of them could see, even in the dark, that the ghost guy was back.

SIX
    D rew put a finger to his lips.
    â€œWhat, you think he can hear us?” Lee said.
    Drew’s voice wasn’t much more than a whisper. “I just don’t want to spook the man this time is all.”
    They stayed close to the tree line, trying to hide themselves from the lights of the pool, like two kids sneaking through the night in a game of hide-and-seek.
    It was him, no doubt.
    Same clothes, same cap, hoodie, jeans, old ball. Deciding that it was safe for him to come back, have the park to himself again. Or maybe he’d been here last night even if Drew hadn’t.
    The first thing they saw when they snuck closer: the high-flyer, one-hand high dunk Drew had seen the first night. Even higher this time. Drew looked at Lee, wanting to see his reaction, saw his mouth drop open. He knew Lee was about to say something, and that—Lee being Lee—he might not be able to control his excitement.