Airball Read Online Free Page A

you’re built like McNet.”
    He flipped through the yearbook till he found an action shot of Brett McGrew muscling his way around a Whipple player to make a shot. Bragger swung around to a sitting position and held the yearbook on his lap. He looked back and forth from me to the picture.
    â€œYou didn’t get his height,” he said. “Not so far, anyway. Maybe you’re a late bloomer.”
    â€œMaybe.” I was sitting on the edge of the bed. My feet didn’t even reach the floor. I’d hate to think I was an early bloomer and this was all I got.
    â€œYou’re not as muscle-bound as he is. Look at his legs. Even in high school he was a human catapult.” He glanced at my legs. At my bony, white, hairless legs, the kneecaps sticking up like tumors on a toothpick. “He probably worked out more than you do.”
    â€œI imagine so.”
    â€œBut look here. Look at his shoulders, how wide they are.” He held the yearbook up. “And look at yours.”
    I looked. He looked. At Brett McGrew’s biceps bulging from the arms of his jersey. Then at my own scrawny shoulders. Barely wider than my ears. Bones practically poking through the skin.
    â€œMaybe it’s not a resemblance you can catch in a picture,” said Bragger. “Maybe it’s something you have to see in person. It’ll be easy to see once you’re standing there right next to him in Lawrence. Right next to Brett McGrew.” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe it. Brett McGrew. Your father.”
    â€œHe doesn’t know he’s my father.”
    â€œNot yet. But he will. Hey, you’re going to let me lounge by the pool with you, aren’t you? And drive the Porsche? I mean, you know, once we’re old enough to get a learner’s permit.”
    I didn’t say anything.
    Bragger glanced up. “Oh, man.” He shook his head. “I know that look. The look that means you’re thinking too hard. You are going to tell him, right? You’re going out for basketball, you’re meeting Brett McGrew, and you’re telling him he’s your father. I mean, that’s the whole point.”
    â€œYou’d think.”
    â€œYou’d think? What do you mean, ‘you’d think’? This is your big chance, Kirby. If you don’t take it, you might not ever get another one.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œI mean, he’s a major sports figure. You can’t just walk up to him on the street. He’s probably got bodyguards.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œAnd you can’t call him, like he was a regular person or something. His number’s probably unlisted. You could write him a letter, but it’d probably go right to the Brett McGrew Fan Club or the Suns front office or something. He’d never even see it. And I doubt you could get his e-mail address. Not his real one, anyway.”
    â€œI know. You think I haven’t thought about all this?”
    â€œSo this is it, Kirby. This is your chance. It’s, like, your destiny or something.”
    Huh. My destiny. Courtesy of Mrs. Zimmer. And Coach.
    â€œYou can’t fight destiny,” said Bragger. “You go to Lawrence, you meet your father, you complete your destiny. That’s how it works.”
    â€œNo, that’s not how it works. I’ve thought about this, and I can’t see how it could work. What am I supposed to say? ‘Glad to meet you, Mr. McGrew. Thanks for inviting us. By the way, turns out we’ve got a lot in common—our DNA.’ That’d go over real well right there in the middle of the fieldhouse, with TV cameras and sports writers lurking around. Not to mention Coach. He’d wad me into a ball and drop-kick me to Nebraska. And that’s not even the worst part.”
    Bragger looked at me. “There’s worse? Worse than Coach?”
    â€œYeah. Worse than Coach.” I grabbed the yearbook from