Airball by L.D. Harkrader Page B

ran his finger down the page. “Forty-two percent less wind resistance.” He looked up at us. “Thirty-eight percent less gravity.”
    â€œLess gravity?” Eddie whispered. “You can’t get less gravity. Unless you go to the moon.”
    Russell shook his head. “I think that’s where Coach is.”
    â€œAnd tough.” Coach punched himself in the chest. “Like wearing full-body armor.” He slapped the document shut and looked at us for a long moment. “This technology is powerful, gentlemen. In the wrong hands, frankly, it could be dangerous. Which is why the Defense Department included a built-in fail-safe. If I couldn’t handle this technology, you wouldn’t be able to see this.”
    He held out his arms and turned slowly, so we could get a good look. Turns out his back was as hairy as his front. Information I truly didn’t need.
    â€œBecause for those who aren’t winners, for those who don’t have what it takes to control the technology, the uniforms are”—Coach stopped turning and squinted from player to player—“invisible.”
    We stood there, mouths open.
    â€œDid he say what I think he said?” Bragger hissed.
    Eddie nodded. “He must be using a Stealth Brain.”
    Coach paced over to the stack of boxes. “Stealth technology enhances all your physical skills. Helps you run faster. Jump higher. Play longer.” He thumped the top box. “Stealth technology is going to help us beat Whipple.” He held the box out to Duncan, who had no choice but to take it. “These are Stealth Uniforms, gentlemen.” He handed a box to Manning. “It takes time to get used to the new speed and agility, to get the uniforms functioning fully with your body’s natural current, so starting today, we’ll wear them at every practice.”
    We froze. Every. Practice.
    As Coach passed out the boxes, he grunted a few things about the science behind the uniforms. When he reached the bottom of the stack, he gave us a long, hard look. “Remember.” He narrowed his eyes. A vein pulsed in the purple bruise. “Only true winners have what it takes to control Stealth power. So if you got a problem with your uniform, if you can’t handle it, you got no business on my team. Do I make myself clear?”
    We stood there, all twelve of us, holding our suspiciously lightweight boxes, and nodded like bobbleheads.
    â€œAnother thing.” Coach planted his fists on his hips. “These uniforms are our secret weapon. We don’t want Whipple finding out about them. Which is why the windows are taped over. What we do in the gym, stays in the gym. Our plays, drills, lineups, uniforms—all strictly classified information. Got it?”
    The bobbleheads bobbled.
    â€œGood. Now suit up. Let’s see how they fit.”

Seventeen
    Well, they fit like skin, just like Coach promised.
    We milled around the locker room in our underwear, shaking our heads, empty boxes scattered on the floor around us. Of course, they’d been empty before we ever opened them.
    I stared at the boxes. I couldn’t believe it. I’d spent all this time doing everything I could to get the team to Lawrence, and the whole world, including my coach, was working against me. Every time I got it figured out, every time I came up with a new strategy, something worse happened. All weekend, while I worked out Step Five, I kept telling myself that if we could get past this—past the school board, past a losing season, past the KU scrimmage—we were home free. Because nothing could be worse than me playing basketball in front of my father.
    Ha.
    I felt like hitting something. Of course, last time I felt that way, I’d ended up smacking Coach into a stupor with a basketball.
    â€œI don’t get it.” Duncan sat huddled at the end of a bench, clutching a red box lid over his bare belly, trying his best not to