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Ma,” she whimpered.
    Clarice was waiting till she calmed down to talk to Delly. That didn’t happen till two hours later.
    Delly was on her bed, facing the wall, when her mom walked in the room.
    â€œDon’t leave this house till Monday morning,” Clarice ordered. “And you’ve got dishes next week. With your sister.” She turned to go.
    â€œMa,” the rasp called.
    â€œWhat is it?” Clarice said, still hard.
    â€œIt didn’t come.”
    â€œWhat didn’t come?” she asked.
    And the rasp was so filled with sadness it almost couldn’t speak. “My surpresent.”
    Then Clarice remembered. “Oh,” she sighed. She sat on the edge of Delly’s bed. She watched the tiny back breathing. “I thought you were going to meet it,” she said softly.
    â€œI did.”
    â€œWell, where’d you go?” she wondered.
    Delly told her all the places she’d searched for the surpresent.
    â€œThere’s your problem,” Clarice said. “That sur-present couldn’t catch you, moving around like that.”
    Clarice’s words sent little sparks of hope to Delly’s heart. She turned toward her mom. “You think?”
    â€œYep. You got to stay in one place. Which is good, because tomorrow you’re grounded.”
    But Delly needed more than that to get her hope back. “Ma, are you sure?”
    And Clarice, remembering Delly’s smile that morning, said, “Sure.”
    That did it. Hope flickered in Delly’s heart; then it went to full flame. She lay there in the warmth of Clarice’s “Sure.”
    â€œGood night, Delly,” Clarice said as she got up off the bed.
    â€œGood night, Ma,” the rasp replied, because now it was.

Chapter 10
    B rud Kinney lived out the River Road, about a half mile past the old Hennepin place. He was in the fifth grade at St. Stanislaus, the boys’ school two towns away.
    Brud Kinney loved basketball. He played before the bus picked him up; he played at night with the porch light shining. He played all day, in his head, while his teachers talked.
    And on Sundays he was at the park, playing with the other River Bluffs kids. He played till his arms ached and his fingertips rubbed raw.
    Because what Brud Kinney wanted most was to play basketball like nothing nobody’d ever seen, only better.
    Brud’s two front teeth were fake. They glowed white in the light. He got those teeth making a basket, so they were like tooth-shaped trophies.
    They’d been playing at the park: Brud, Gwennie, Tater, the Dettbarns, and Novello. It was a close game, and it was getting mean.
    Tater got the ball in to Gwennie. “Brud,” she hollered, and hurled it down the court.
    With Novello breathing down his back, Brud grabbed it. He took a step and jumped high in the air. His hands sent the ball soaring into the sky.
    As he came back to earth, Brud’s eyes watched and his ears listened for the swish of the score.
    So he didn’t see Novello’s elbow coming at him. He didn’t hear Gwennie shout, “Watch out!” He hardly felt the bone hammer his mouth.
    Brud’s body hit the ground with a thud. His mouth started shooting blood, like a crimson geyser.
    Danny Novello was dancing around the court, screaming, “There are teeth in my arm! His teeth are in my elbow!”
    Tater and Gwennie leaned over Brud.
    â€œWow,” was all Tater could say.
    â€œYou all right?” Gwennie asked him.
    But Brud only wanted to know, “Did I m-m-make the sh-sh-sh-shot?”
    â€œYep,” she told him.
    Then Brud passed out, smiling.

Chapter 11
    S unday morning, early, Brud was heading into town to practice.
    In real life, he had his basketball under one arm, and he was riding his bike down the River Road.
    But in his head, Brud wasn’t on a bike at all. In his head, he was already at the park, playing ball. He was shooting from the inside, the