7 Days at the Hot Corner by Terry Trueman Page B

steps tentatively toward me, smiling and putting his hand out for me to shake. I take his hand and use it to pull him close. I give him a big hug. It feels good, like it always used to feel when we were little and we’d wrestle with my dad, or as we got a little older and we’d be on the playground and score a winning goal or touchdown and we’d jump up and down and grab each other; it feels just right.
    â€œCongratulations,” Travis says. “You guys were awesome.”
    â€œThanks,” I say, still holding my friend close. “I’m sorry,” I add softly. I feel really emotional, my throat tight and my hands kind of shaky. But it feels great to be able to apologize and mean it. “I’m so sorry,” I say, “for being a jerk, for not being a better friend, for not—”
    He interrupts me. “Hey, we’re cool. We can talk about all that later. Let’s just enjoy this.” I look into his face and he is smiling too. He’s right; we’re in the middle of a gigantic party, so it’s definitely party time.
    We both laugh and pull away from each other, and do a fairly successful high-five.
    At about this moment the crowd carrying Matt on their shoulders sets him down to a huge cheer at home plate. Matt looks deliriously, out-of-his-skull happy. He waves his arms over his head to the hundreds of fans still in the stands, and they cheer wildly again.
    â€œI better go congratulate him,” Travis says, pulling away from me.
    I haven’t heard his words clearly, or his message just doesn’t quite register in the chaos and excitement of the moment. Before I realize what’s happening, Travis is walking straight toward Matt.
    A rush of fear, backed by a jolt of adrenaline, blasts up my spine and into my head, exploding!
    â€œTravis,” I yell to his back, lunging. He can’t hear me. As I throw myself after him, I bump into a skinny girl, almost knocking her over. “Sorry,” I say hurriedly, trying to pull away from her. But half a dozen other kids, jumping and screaming, are in front of me. Before I can get halfway to him, Travis is standing right in front of Matt. I see Travis’s lips moving. Matt throws his head back and laughs, then he and Travis throw their arms around each other and Matt lifts Travis in the air, like a rag doll. They are both laughing and hopping up and down. I stop dead in my tracks and just watch them celebrate.
    Eventually, the chaos and wildness and fun begin to ebb a little. The crowd thins out, and my mom and dad have gone.
    Travis walks back up to me, smiling as he approaches.
    â€œJesus,” I whisper to him quickly. “Didn’t you get my voice mail?”
    Travis says, “No, I forgot my phone at your dad’s.”
    I say, “I thought you were going to get killed just now.”
    He looks puzzled, “Why?”
    â€œMatt Tompkins”—I’m still whispering—“knows it was you in the school paper. I tried to warn you before, and again a minute ago when I couldn’t get to you—”
    Travis laughs and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Tryin’ to rescue me, huh?” he says. “Matt’s known for a couple of years, Scott.”
    â€œYears?” I ask, stunned. “Why would you tell Matt Tompkins before you told me?”
    â€œI didn’t actually ‘tell’ him,” Travis says quietly.
    I don’t get it. “Well then, how’d he know?”
    Travis smiles at me patiently. “That’s secret, Scott. Matt’s got his own reasons for needing to keep it that way.”
    â€œMatt?” I ask, suddenly grasping what Travis is saying, completely surprised. “Big, tough, rough Matt?”
    â€œWhat’d you think,” Travis says with a laugh, “that we all become hairdressers?”
    I feel myself blush, but I smile too. “Matt,” I say once more, shaking my head.
    â€œHe was