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such a nerd that he couldn’t catch a ball, but I knew that somehow this would be my fault.
    I looked anxiously at my watch. They’d left just a few minutes before he’d gotten hurt and were supposed to be gone for a walk through the neighborhood and that was about twenty minutes ago … so …
    â€œHere, let me take the ice away,” I said as I pulled away the bag. “It’s not good to keep cold on it too long,” I offered as an excuse.
    I took the bag into the kitchen and dumped it in the sink. I pulled over a chair and pushed it over to the fridge so I could get up into the cupboards above it. That was where we kept all the different types of glues in the house. I rummaged around until I found the little vial that contained the super-stick glue — the stuff that can hold back a charging elephant.
    My hope was that Ned’s glasses would be back on his face and we’d all be on the driveway bouncing a ball before our mothers got back. Not that I wouldn’t tell them about what happened — later on — but it would be a lot better if they were told about it rather than seeing it themselves.
    â€œI’m so sorry about hitting you in the face like that,” Kia said for about the tenth time.
    â€œI think he gets the idea,” I said. “Besides it wasn’t like you were trying to hurt him. Why didn’t you put your hands up?”
    â€œI did. But I thought it was going to be a chest pass,” he said.
    â€œIt was.”
    â€œBut it hit me in the face. I had my hands at mychest to catch it,” he said.
    I shook my head. “It’s called a chest pass because you
throw
it from your chest.”
    â€œOh, I didn’t understand.”
    â€œMaybe that part was in the two pages you didn’t get to finish before you played.”
    â€œLet me see if I can fix your glasses,” Kia said, taking the glue from my hands.
    â€œMaybe I should do it,” Ned offered. “I’ve had lots of practice. I’m always bumping into something and knocking my glasses off. I’ve broken them four times already this summer.”
    Kia handed him the glue.
    â€œWhere’s Mark?” I asked.
    â€œHe went out to practice shooting,” Kia said. “He mumbled something about how we’re really going to need his shots to drop.”
    â€œNo doubt there.” I turned to Ned. “Are you going to come back outside to play?”
    â€œI don’t know. Maybe I should stay in here and read some more about basketball.”
    â€œI think playing would be better,” Kia said encouragingly. “You can’t let one ball in the face hold you back. Right, Nick?”
    â€œYeah, sure, whatever.”
    â€œRemember two seasons ago during the playoffs when Julius Johnson played when he was so sick with the flu that he could hardly walk?”
    â€œWho’s Julius Johnson?” Ned asked.Kia and I looked each other in total shock.
    â€œIs he some sort of basketball player?” Ned asked.
    â€œSome sort of basketball player?” I echoed back. “No, he’s not
some sort
of player. He’s the best player in the game.”
    â€œOne of the best players in the
history
of the game,” Kia added.
    â€œOh,” Ned said. “I guess maybe I have heard of him.”
    â€œHow could you not have heard of him? He’s amazing. He’s on the highlight reel on ‘Sports Desk’ every night.”
    â€œSports desk?”
    â€œIt’s a TV show. Haven’t you ever seen it?”
    He shook his head.
    â€œWhat sort of shows do you watch?” I asked. He probably only watched The Learning Channel.
    â€œI don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “We don’t have a TV.”
    â€œYou don’t have a TV?” I asked in amazement. I didn’t think anything in the whole world could be more shocking than him not knowing who Julius Johnson was. I was obviously