Three-Point Play by Todd Hafer Page A

He might think it’s kinda informal.”
    Cody laughed, not forcing it this time. “Dad could stand to be a lot more informal.”
    â€œAmen to that,” Beth said, standing. “You start getting your game face on, okay? Best man—that’s a heavy responsibility, homeboy.”
    â€œThanks, Beth—I mean, homegirl!”
    Cody finally decided on two Pop-Tarts as a snack. Then he was able to squeeze in almost a whole quarter of the Lakers and the Pistons while Beth dressed for the rehearsal dinner.

    After returning home from the dinner, Cody would have sprinted up the stairs to his room had he not feared leaving much of said dinner on the stairs. “I never shoulda had that second steak,” he groaned. “What was I thinking?”
    He changed out of his pants and into his baggiest sweats, then eased himself onto his bed. He checked the phone messages. Pastor Taylor, Pork Chop, Blake, Doug Porter, and Robyn had all left words of encouragement for him. He deleted all but Robyn’s, which said, “Cody, you are so awesome. I’m proud of you. Who would have thought you’d make it into the thick of varsity football play-offs as a frosh? And I know you’re gonna have a rockin’ basketball season too. And as for tomorrow, all I can say is that you’re being very mature about everything—even though I know you must feel so torn up inside. Anyway, just know I’ll be thinking of you tomorrow. God bless.”
    Cody opened his blinds so that he could see the bluish glow of a three-quarter moon. “Dear God,” he prayed, “I’ve never had so much uncertainty in my life. My family life is about to change forever. My best friend might move away. I’m in wa-aa-ay over my head trying to transition from football to basketball. I’m so tired. So sore. And, Robyn, that’s another mystery. Are we getting to be more than friends? And is that a good thing or a bad thing? It’s like, there’s nothing I can be sure of; nothing I can hang onto. Except you. In this mixed up life of mine, thanks for always being there for me. Amen.”
    Cody shot a glance at Becky, Beth’s sister. She nodded, curled her left hand around the crook of his elbow, and the two of them walked in perfect synchronicity down the middle aisle of Crossroads Community Church.
    When they arrived at the front of the church, they parted ways, and Cody took his place next to Ray Fairchild, one of his dad’s work friends. Cody scanned the congregation, allowing himself a small smile when he spotted Pork Chop, flanked by his father and big brother, about halfway back.
    Chop, exaggerating every move, straightened his tie, then smoothed both eyebrows with thick fingers. Then he nodded at Cody. This last gesture, Cody knew, was sincere, not just for show.
    Cody closed his eyes. Okay, God. It’s really going to happen, isn’t it? Please help me do my part to make this day happy for Dad and Beth. Forgive me for being selfish. Amen.
    Cody almost added a P.S. to his prayer, noting that there was still time for things to be postponed. A power failure or a small earthquake wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, would it?
    Then he saw his dad and Pastor Taylor emerge from a side door near the front of the church. Chop was right , he thought. That’s the face of a genuinely happy man .
    Cody extended his hand as his father took his place beside him. Luke ignored the hand and embraced his son with both arms.
    â€œOh, sweet!” Cody heard someone in the congregation gush.
    Cody straightened his sports jacket. The church organ swelled as Mrs. Leadbetter launched into the “Wedding March.”
    Beth stepped gracefully down the aisle accompanied by her father, a red-faced man built like a fire hydrant. If he played football , Cody figured , he’d have been a center, maybe a guard. And if baseball was his game? A catcher. Definitely a catcher.
    As the