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.“One more thing,” he says.“I know you’ve thought of suicide.You’d be crazy if you hadn’t; then I’d really have my work cut out for me.I need to ask a favor.”“Yeah?”“Yeah.If the idea gets serious, you call me, okay? If I were the best therapist in the world, they wouldn’t have me out here in the backwater living out of a duffel bag.I don’t think my professional reputation could handle losin’ you right now; besides, I kind of like you, so don’t you go makin’ me look bad, okay? You get in trouble, you call me.Agreed?”“Agreed,” Willie says.He has thought of suicide.Seriously.And it’s scary.Out in the parking lot, as Willie limps toward his mother’s car, he hears Cyril holler, “Willie, my boy!” and looks back.“Them there school folks will put you in Special Ed over my dead body.”CHAPTER 8The whistle blows to call time and Willie is off the bench with his six-pack of Gatorade and a dry towel.The girls huddle around Coach Williams and Willie hands them the plastic bottles and offers the towel unobtrusively while the coach outlines the play she wants run—designed to get Jenny free on the wing for a last-second shot that will tie the game.Willie stands back from the huddle, across from where Jenny is concentrating on Coach Williams’ every word.She’s to cut off a screen on the left baseline, move diagonally across the key for the pass, and take the quick turnaround jumper from ten to twelve feet, a shot she must be eighty percent on tonight.The girls form a knot with their hands in the middle of the huddle, pump once with a loud “Let’s do it!” and break.Willie’s stomach dances with anticipation as the girls bring the ball in, and he’s aware that something nagging down deep in him wants Jenny to blow it.He shakes the feeling away, murmuring, “Come on, Jen.Come on, Jen,” under his breath.Jenny starts high and knifes in for the baseline as the ball comes in bounds, plants her foot and cuts back as Denise Caulder sets a perfect pick, scraping off Jenny’s defender, who is on her like glue.Jenny takes the pass from the point guard on top with two seconds left, fakes right, spins left and lets loose a rainbow at the buzzer.She knows it’s good as it leaves her fingertips and doesn’t even watch it go in; simply turns and walks toward the bench as the crowd erupts.In overtime the girls walk away with it by eight points.Willie lingers in the darkened locker room, picking up towels and gathering uniforms for washing, with only the light from the thirty-watt bulb above the manager’s cage to illumine the room.The girls have showered and gone; Jenny waits just outside the door in the gym, making small talk with the school janitor, who patiently waits to lock up.Willie wishes he didn’t know why he’s stalling; why he can’t go out there and congratulate Jen on a great game and just be with her.But he does know why.“You gonna polish the lockers or what?” Jenny is standing at the door, silhouetted against the dim light in the gym, duffel bag hanging easily to her side.“Be…right there,” Willie says, and mumbles something about fixing a nozzle on the shower.“So what did you think?” Jenny asks over a Coke at the Dragon.“Did we put ’em away or what?”“You…put ’em…away,” Willie says, nodding, hiding behind another long drink through his straw.“So how about my shot at the end of regulation?” she ventures.“…Good…shot,” Willie agrees.He takes another drink.Jenny is quiet a fraction of a moment, considering.Then, “Good shot? It was a great shot! Two girls on me; I’da faked ’em out of their jocks if they had any.The ball left my fingers at the buzzer!” She leans forward.“Willie! Why can’t I get anything from you? That was magic to me.There were a million things that could have gone wrong and none of them did.You’re the only person I know who knows what that feels like.”Guilt flares in Willie’s gut.Jenny wants something from him and he’s just too selfish and hurt to give it to her.“You’re…right…Jen.It…was a…great…shot.Guess I’m…jealous.”Jenny sighs and sits back in the booth.“Yeah,” she says.“Sorry.”Cyril Wheat sits forward in his chair and flips off his shoe, spreading his fourth and fifth toes to expose monumental cracking and peeling.Willie winces at the sight of it.“Amazing to me they can call this athlete’s foot when it attacks the likes of me,” Cyril says.“Nerd’s foot, maybe.Or something Latin, like pedus fungus dorcus.” He reaches into his pack, extracting a metal spray can, and fires a powdery white stream at the afflicted area, breathing an audible sigh of relief.“Kills the offending digits,” he says, as much to himself as to Willie.“Three or four days they fall off.You lose two shoe sizes, but a cure’s a cure.“So,” he says, replacing the spray can in his pack, “you want to do some work on your girlfriend.”Willie nods.“She’s…my…best friend,” he starts.“She’s…my…girlfriend…and she’s…my…best friend.”Cyril nods.“Okay.”“I’m…mad…at her…all…the time.Sometimes…I feel…like I…hate her.”“Sounds like my marriage,” Cyril says.“What do you hate her about?”Willie shrugs, then the look of recognition crosses his face and he says, “Sports.School.All…the things…she…can do.Sometimes…I just…hate her…for it.”Cyril’s nodding again.“She’s getting all the stuff you used to get, right? And she wants to share it with you like you used to with her, right? And that would be okay with you if you were still getting it, but now it just taps into what you’ve lost and you get angry at yourself and angry at her and angry at the world, right?”Willie feels as if Cyril’s been reading his mail.“So…what do…I…do?”“Welcome to ABC’s Wide World of Changes, Willie.The only thing you can do is let that go.That golden boy isn’t you anymore, and as long as you keep measuring yourself up against him, you’re gonna be mad as hell at everybody.And I’ll guarantee another thing.Keep it up and you’ll lose your girl.” Cyril’s eyes are watery; he’s feeling Willie’s pain; but he’s dead-on straight with him.“We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months now, Willie, and you’ve worked through some pretty tough stuff, but if you don’t find a way to get your head straight about this, it’ll all be for nothing.” He sits back.“And you’ll lose your girl.” They’ve been over this before.Cyril has spent the last sixty days letting Willie find his own answers; now he’s supplying some of his own.Willie nods and tells him the scary part is that when he’s feeling that way, he wants to lose his girl.“Well, keep it up and you’ll get your wish
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