"Waiting," she said, the word dropping from her lips like a stone.

"Well," Troy said, turning to his Xbox controller and winding up its cord, something he never did.

His mom brushed past him and left the room. From the hall she said, "I left two more of those pain pills for your finger on the table next to your bed. One for tonight and one for tomorrow, and don't forget to brush your teeth."

Then he heard her bedroom door close.

Troy shook his head and took the pain pill, brushed his teeth and went to bed. He lay awake. At first his finger throbbed out the rhythm of his heartbeat, but then the gentle wave of the pain pill softened the ache in his finger and his heart. He dropped off to sleep thinking of Tate's words about his father.

Troy ached more in the morning than he could ever remember. His whole body felt stiff and sore from the rough game they'd played, and his finger had blown up like a deli pickle. For a moment the whole thing-the championship, the agents who'd approached him in the parking lot, and even his father's appearance at Seth's house-all seemed like a dream. He took the second pain pill his mom had laid out with a glass of water beside his bed. Then he heard the sound of his grandfather's voice from the kitchen, and he jumped up and nearly tripped pulling on his pants as he swung open the door.

"Gramps!" Troy said, hugging his grandfather where he sat at the kitchen table. "Where were you last night?"

"I was there for the game, are you kidding?" Gramps said. "But I'm too old for parties. Besides, that was for your team. No, I just went home afterward and had a cup of tea on my porch to celebrate."

His grandfather, tough and straight as an old stick, wore wire-rimmed glasses that highlighted his blazing pale blue eyes. His hair was mostly gone, and on his chin he had a white stubble that could leave a raspberry on Troy's skin. As Troy stepped back, Gramps held out one iron hand.