I know Pete Maravich's voice now. He lives with us. Like a spirit, his voice echoes through our house. My mom even talks to him, late at night, after she thinks I'm asleep. He's become her confidant, her mentor and her sounding board. She talks about our practices and our games with him. She even tells him about me.

Maybe he answers back, but I don't hear that part. Mom just seems more settled after she's spilled her guts to him.

I crack the kitchen door and listen to her. After tonight's game and Aaron's antics, I knew she'd seek out Pete.

"I know Jack has been taking a lot of grief at school. That will all end if I quit. But what message will that send to him, or any of those boys. Is it okay to quit if things get too hard?"

Pete's voice answers. "Put your shot up, but always follow through."

Mom lets the segment end and then closes the lid of her laptop. After blowing out the candles, she heads back inside.

I hurry back to my room and wait until she passes by before I turn on my light. I search my desk for a paper and a pen. I stare at the blank paper before it hits me. I write one sentence.

ALWAYS FOLLOW THOUGH

Pistol Pete says it in every video. It means something. Follow through.

That's it. He is telling her what to do. He does talk back to her.

I snatch the paper off the desk and bolt out of my room and run down the hall.

"Mom," I yell as I run into her room.

She spins around, eyes wide like saucers. "What's wrong?"

"Pistol Pete says follow through," I blurt.

"Jack, what are you talking about?"

I can't believe she doesn't get it. She's been asking him question after question, and he's been answering her the whole time.

"You can't quit. Pete says follow through."




As soon as I get to my homeroom, I ask the teacher to help me type up a petition on the computer. She agrees that it could help keep my mom in place. We both look it over. I have to say it is rather impressive. In big bold black letters at the top of the page is the headline. PETITION TO KEEP COACH DEE WESTON AS HEAD COACH OF THE PATTERSON MIDDLE SCHOOL BOYS' BASKETBALL TEAM.

Mrs. Guiles, my homeroom teacher, checks it over for typos and nods her head. "Very nice."

I start to fold it over when she stops me. "Aren't you going to sign it?" she asks.

"Oh, I forgot," I say, digging out my pen. Very carefully I write my full name on the first line. I lay the paper on her desk and offer her my pen. "You want to sign it?"

"Don't you think it should just be the students?"

"You're as much a part of the school as anyone else. I think every signature will help."

She lifts the pen and signs her name underneath mine. I have two signatures. A good start, but unless I can get the page covered front and back, it is a waste of time.

"Remember, Jack, ask for signatures before class or at lunch. I'd hate for this to get you into trouble."

I fold it over to hurry out to first period. "Wish me luck."

"Oh, Jack, you don't need luck. You have tenacity."

I have no idea what that means but it's bound to be good, judging by the smile on her face.



By the time I finish my lunch, I have one hundred and twenty six names on my petition. Billy tried to sign twice, saying it would show how much he wanted my mom to remain as head coach.

"She isn't really going to stop being our coach, is she?" he asks, wiping the juice from his apple off of his chin.

I don't know how to answer. When I look at him, I notice how different his face looks. His cheeks aren't quite as pronounced. His jeans don't look like they are cutting him in two anymore.

"What are you looking at, Jack?" he asks. He sounds scared, like I'm going to tell him there is a huge hairy spider on his shoulder.

"You look different," I say.

He smiles, bashful all of the sudden. "I've lost twelve pounds. All because of your mom."

Billy points to the table where the jocks sit. Trayvon, is at the end, with Mac sandwiched between him and Aaron. I know Billy is going to prod me over there. I just don't know whether any of them will sign. I know for darned sure that Aaron won't. What's worse is the fact that he may just tear the sheet up, for spite.

Billy waits. "Are you going to take it over there?"

"Maybe later."

Billy grabs the clipboard from my hand and stalks across the lunchroom. I can see him standing there, telling the three of them about my petition. Aaron snatches it out of his hand and reads it over. He shakes his head and acts like he's going to hand it back to Billy. Instead he tosses it across the room.

Billy starts to go after it, but Aaron pushes his leg out, and Billy's foot catches on it. He goes straight down and slides across the floor.

Mac and Aaron howl with laughter. Several others who are close by, do the same, but when I look at Trayvon, he isn't laughing. Instead, he calmly gets up, and goes to help Billy. Then he leans down and picks up the clip board. But what he does next is astounding. He digs into his pocket and withdraws a pen.

Aaron jumps up, and walks over to where Trayvon and Billy are standing. His cocky grin suddenly turns to one of disbelief. "Tray, you aren't seriously going to sign that?"

"Sorry, man."

"She's a terrible coach."

Trayvon signs on the sheet and hands it back to Billy. He looks at Aaron thoughtfully. "If she's so terrible, why did you want to get back on the team?"

I can't believe I never wondered about that myself.