Stealing the Game Read Online Free

running the
country. “And don’t knock the chalupa. They’re delicious with hot sauce.”
    Dad’s face turned an even brighter red. “No time for studying, yet you seem to have plenty of time for working out,” he said, nodding at Jax’s muscular arms. Jax had
always been toned and athletic looking, but with his hoodie off I could see how much more muscle he’d put on. “Are you giving up your law career so you can try out for
American
Ninja
?”
    Jax didn’t say anything.
    Mom sat down on the edge of Dad’s chair. “Just tell us what happened, Jax. Why did you drop out of law school?”
    Dad stopped moving and faced Jax, waiting for the answer.
    The doorbell rang.
    Really? Saved by the bell. Why doesn’t that ever happen to me?
    Dad took a deep breath and smoothed back his hair, composing himself. “I’ll get it,” he said to Mom, who’d stood up. I think Dad was relieved to take a break from yelling
at Jax. His voice had started to go hoarse.
    The three of us remaining didn’t say anything. We just stared at the entrance to the living room, waiting for our mystery guest to appear.
    We were all surprised to see Dad return with Officer Marcus Rollins, my teammate Theo’s dad. He was dressed in his Tustin PD uniform, with his big black belt sagging under the weight of a
gun, handcuffs, pepper spray, and a few things I didn’t recognize.
    He nodded at me. “Hey, Chris.”
    I nodded back. “Hey, Mr. Rollins.”
    “Marcus,” Mom said with a big smile, giving him a hug. “Is this about the mutilated bodies I’ve been burying in the backyard?” Mom had a weird sense of humor, which
she only used with her close friends. Over the years, she and Mr. Rollins had tried to get Theo and me to do stuff together, but his friends were all brainiacs and mine were jocks, so neither of us
was interested. Now that Theo was on the school basketball team, we’d gotten used to each other.
    Officer Rollins chuckled. His manner and expression told me this wasn’t a serious visit.
    “No. It’s the department’s policy to let the first six dead bodies slide. But if there’s a seventh, I might have to write you a ticket.”
    “You guys are so morbid,” Dad said with a laugh, as if we’d all been sitting around playing a spirited game of Monopoly. “Marcus, you remember Jax?”
    Jax walked over and shook Officer Rollins’s hand. It was weird to see my six-foot-one brother look up to an even taller guy.
    “Good to see you again, Officer Rollins,” Jax said.
    “I guess a fancy Stanford law student can call me Marcus,” Officer Rollins said.
    I waited to see who would burst a blood vessel first, Mom or Dad. But both nodded happily as if Jax were still at Stanford and the world was a big, shiny golden apple.
    “Hard to believe it’s the same Jax I used to carry on my shoulders.” Officer Rollins ran his hand over his bald scalp, his black skin glistening from the recessed lighting over
his head. “Back then I had the most glorious Afro. And a big ol’ mustache.” He traced above his lip, as if he expected to find the mustache there, like he’d misplaced it for
all these years. “I looked like Shaft.”
    “Shaft was bald,” I said, remembering the movie I’d seen over at Roger’s house.
    “Not the Samuel Jackson Shaft,” Officer Rollins said with a frown. “I’m talking about the original. Richard Roundtree.” He said the name with awe, like a priest
might say the pope’s name.
    “Can you dig it?” Dad said in a weird hipster way, and the two of them laughed. Clearly this was some sort of old folks’ reference that I didn’t get.
    “Wasn’t the one with Samuel Jackson R-rated?” Mom suddenly said, turning toward me like this was a cross-examination.
    Really, Mom? Is now the time to have this discussion again? I’d been watching R-rated movies since I’d turned twelve. In fact, Dad took me to see a horror film that was rated R.
Oddly, Mom was okay with me seeing an R-rated movie if