was hot and he looked at his shoes and said he was sorry.
"That's very nice," Cecilia said stiffly, coming out from behind her desk, "but I'm in the middle of something and I'll have to ask you to leave now."
"We kind of need to see Seth Halloway," his mom said, gripping the football and showing it to her. "This is his."
"That's fine," Cecilia said, reaching for the ball. "The players are in meetings already. I'll take that."
"No," his mom said, pulling the ball away and putting it back into the box. "Troy needs to do it himself."
Cecilia's mouth fell open. She stared at Troy's mom and shook her head, huffing out a little laugh.
"I'm sorry you thought this job was a chance for your son to meet the players," she said, "but it's not. It wasn't ."
"That has nothing to do with it," his mom said.
"Please. Leave."
Troy's mom snatched his hand and down the hall they went. They were almost to the top of the stairs when the head coach and some men in business suits spilled out of a big office looking grim. Troy's mom stopped and looked at the floor, waiting for them to empty out of the hall. When they were gone, she dragged him down the stairs. They were halfway down when a voice came from above.
"Tessa, is this your son?"
They froze and looked up toward the voice. Mr. Langan, the owner, was leaning over the railing dressed in a neat gray suit and wearing a small smile.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Langan," his mom said.
"Well, it was only one game," the owner said with a serious expression. "No one wants to start the season with a loss, but we'll bounce back."
"I meant what happened," his mom said.
Mr. Langan's graying eyebrows moved up, wrinkling his tan forehead.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Well," his mom said. She let go of Troy's hand and walked slowly up the steps. Troy didn't know what to do, so he followed her and looked at his feet while she told the owner the story of him getting kicked out of the Dome. She did it without trying to make any excuses, and when she was done, there was only silence. Finally, Troy looked up at the owner. Mr. Langan's pleasant face lost its expression and he looked down at Troy with sad green eyes.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"I'M VERY SORRY," HIS mother said in a quiet voice.
"Well," Mr. Langan said, patting her arm. "Kids get excited, don't they? I think Cecilia is right about maybe not having Troy down on the field during the game. I'll take the blame for that. But I tell you what--does he have school?"
"Yes."
"Well, you go take him to school, and by the time you get back, I'll have talked with Cecilia. I'm pretty sure we can find a way to work this out."
His mom said a quiet thank-you and dragged Troy out of the offices like the place was on fire. On the way to the school, his mom looked at him in the mirror and said, "If I get that job back, don't think you're getting away with anything. You're getting punished no matter what. You don't even know how bad."
Troy spent his morning dodging through the crowded hallways from class to class, keeping a watchful eye out for Jamie. At lunch, he ditched his regular group of friends for a seat with a bunch of brainy kids who always took the table in the back corner. Troy sat with his back to the lunchroom and ate hunched down over his chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy, moving the straw to his mouth without picking up his head.
His straw made a slurping sound at the bottom of his milk when he noticed the guys around him had stopped talking. Troy smelled Doritos. He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.
"Thought you could hide with these goobers in the corner?"
It was Jamie, and his words rolled into a mean laugh that was automatically imitated by his gang. Troy picked up his tray and turned around to face him like nothing was wrong.
He shrugged and said, "What?"
Jamie put his pointer finger into Troy's chest and said, "Your team sucks and you owe me, that's what."
"Yeah, I know. You know I've got it," Troy said, glancing at Jamie's
"That's very nice," Cecilia said stiffly, coming out from behind her desk, "but I'm in the middle of something and I'll have to ask you to leave now."
"We kind of need to see Seth Halloway," his mom said, gripping the football and showing it to her. "This is his."
"That's fine," Cecilia said, reaching for the ball. "The players are in meetings already. I'll take that."
"No," his mom said, pulling the ball away and putting it back into the box. "Troy needs to do it himself."
Cecilia's mouth fell open. She stared at Troy's mom and shook her head, huffing out a little laugh.
"I'm sorry you thought this job was a chance for your son to meet the players," she said, "but it's not. It wasn't ."
"That has nothing to do with it," his mom said.
"Please. Leave."
Troy's mom snatched his hand and down the hall they went. They were almost to the top of the stairs when the head coach and some men in business suits spilled out of a big office looking grim. Troy's mom stopped and looked at the floor, waiting for them to empty out of the hall. When they were gone, she dragged him down the stairs. They were halfway down when a voice came from above.
"Tessa, is this your son?"
They froze and looked up toward the voice. Mr. Langan, the owner, was leaning over the railing dressed in a neat gray suit and wearing a small smile.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Langan," his mom said.
"Well, it was only one game," the owner said with a serious expression. "No one wants to start the season with a loss, but we'll bounce back."
"I meant what happened," his mom said.
Mr. Langan's graying eyebrows moved up, wrinkling his tan forehead.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Well," his mom said. She let go of Troy's hand and walked slowly up the steps. Troy didn't know what to do, so he followed her and looked at his feet while she told the owner the story of him getting kicked out of the Dome. She did it without trying to make any excuses, and when she was done, there was only silence. Finally, Troy looked up at the owner. Mr. Langan's pleasant face lost its expression and he looked down at Troy with sad green eyes.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"I'M VERY SORRY," HIS mother said in a quiet voice.
"Well," Mr. Langan said, patting her arm. "Kids get excited, don't they? I think Cecilia is right about maybe not having Troy down on the field during the game. I'll take the blame for that. But I tell you what--does he have school?"
"Yes."
"Well, you go take him to school, and by the time you get back, I'll have talked with Cecilia. I'm pretty sure we can find a way to work this out."
His mom said a quiet thank-you and dragged Troy out of the offices like the place was on fire. On the way to the school, his mom looked at him in the mirror and said, "If I get that job back, don't think you're getting away with anything. You're getting punished no matter what. You don't even know how bad."
Troy spent his morning dodging through the crowded hallways from class to class, keeping a watchful eye out for Jamie. At lunch, he ditched his regular group of friends for a seat with a bunch of brainy kids who always took the table in the back corner. Troy sat with his back to the lunchroom and ate hunched down over his chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy, moving the straw to his mouth without picking up his head.
His straw made a slurping sound at the bottom of his milk when he noticed the guys around him had stopped talking. Troy smelled Doritos. He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.
"Thought you could hide with these goobers in the corner?"
It was Jamie, and his words rolled into a mean laugh that was automatically imitated by his gang. Troy picked up his tray and turned around to face him like nothing was wrong.
He shrugged and said, "What?"
Jamie put his pointer finger into Troy's chest and said, "Your team sucks and you owe me, that's what."
"Yeah, I know. You know I've got it," Troy said, glancing at Jamie's
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