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“Looks like you didn’t get the message last Friday.” Gabriel could feel the anger coiling in his chest, ready to be let loose on this jerk.
But hands caught his arms, holding him back.
Ryan had brought friends.
At least four guys, but Gabriel couldn’t see who else was behind him. Probably the same losers who’d been beating on Simon last week. Gabriel tried to fight them, but there were too many and with the lights off, he couldn’t pull any power from the electricity in the room.
Gabriel felt sure Ryan was going to take the chance to hit him but the guy was going after Simon, who was backing away.
“Hey!” said Gabriel. “You touch him, I’ll break your goddamn arms off.”
Someone hit him in the back of the head, sending stars across his field of vision. Ryan caught up to Simon and gave him a solid shove in the chest, hard enough to knock him to the court.
Simon scrambled backward, but Ryan was leaning down, a hand drawn back, ready to slam a fist into Simon’s face.
Gabriel redoubled his struggles, but he’d never be fast enough.
“Hey!” a new voice yelled from the corner by the bleachers.
An authoritative voice.
The coach’s voice.
The guys holding Gabriel scattered and ran. Ryan tried to follow, but he was under the net, and the coach beat him to it, even while dragging a full mesh bag of balls. Though he wasn’t a big man, Coach Kanner could be plenty intimidating, and Gabriel enjoyed watching Ryan’s face go pale under those bruises.
Until he realized Simon was just as pale, his breathing quick.
“Come on, Coach,” said Ryan. “We were just messing around.”
“You don’t mess around on my court. You’re out of the next two games.”
Ryan’s eyes just about bugged out of his head. “What? But that’s not ”
“Want to make it three?”
“Whatever.” Ryan turned away.
The coach called after him. “Stacey!”
Ryan looked like he was going to keep walking but he must have wanted to stay on the team. He turned. “What?”
The coach raised an eyebrow.
Ryan sighed. “Yes. Sir.”
“See you on the bench at four.”
Ryan stormed through the doors into the locker room, shoving the door behind him to make the sound echo across the court. Gabriel would have mocked the dickhead, but he knew better. He was already on shaky ground with the coach. Instead, he put out a hand to pull Simon to his feet.
The coach looked at the younger boy. “You all right?”
Simon nodded. His face was red, his jaw clenched.
Gabriel felt for him. Simon could play but he couldn’t play, for real, in a game. He was small, and though a few years would probably take care of that, a year was an eternity. Especially a year spent getting your ass kicked.
And all that was on top of not being able to hear.
The coach rubbed at the back of his neck. “I caught some of your playing earlier. You’ve been working hard.”
