trophy case read three minutes after six. The district deadline was six-five, but Howard was already sorting through the index cards at the scorer table.
I walked back into the main gym. The bleachers were filling up with farmers in blue jackets, mothers in maroon sweaters, and high school kids shouting over the noise of the pep band.
Travis sat on the bottom aluminum row near the home bench. He had Mason sitting right beside him, holding a paper cup of popcorn.
I walked straight down the wooden steps and sat on Travis’s left side. I pulled my maroon booster sweatshirt down over my wrists.
“Where is she?” Travis asked. He kept his eyes fixed on the volleyball net across the hardwood.
“She is in the locker room,” I said.
“I told Howard I would sit right here,” Travis said. His jaw shifted to the right, tight and stubborn. “I
