Betting Game by Heather M. O'Connor Page B

this situation. Captain America always saves the day.”
    “Captain America?” It makes him laugh.
    “Sure. He’s not the coolest superhero, but he always does the right thing.”
    “Thanks. I think.”
    He stares into space for a few minutes, tapping his fingers on his bed. Then the tapping stops.
    “I know how you can get the money.”
    “How?”
    “Our scholarship account. It has about $15,000 in it, right? Mom will probably find out eventually, but…”
    “…but if I got a job, maybe I could put it back before she does!”
    Perfect! I could be out of this mess by—
    “Wait. Half of that money is yours.”
    “You just said you’d put it back, right? So problem solved. Now go to sleep.”
    And I think maybe I finally can.
    My phone wakes me up before the alarm goes off.
    It wakes up Alex too. “Hang on,” he whispers. He gets out of bed and sits beside me. “Put it on speaker.”
    “Hello?”
    “Jack Attack.”
    “Luka. I tried, but—”
    Alex elbows me and mouths, “Tell him about the money.”
    “B-but I have what I owe you now. All of it.”
    “What you owe us?” He laughs. “What about what you cost us?”
    “But—”
    “Here’s what it will cost you. A broken knee, a fractured skull. Yours or your brother’s. A terrible car accident. It happens. All the time. Maybe your Mama can pay. We’ll collect on her way home some night. It’s extra, like juice. Understand?”
    The phone feels cold in my hand. What have I done?
    “I will give you one more chance to pay. The game today. Who would your system tell you to bet on? The Lancers. Of course. Everyone says it. So. Make a liar out of your system.” His voice gets hard and cold. “Lose this game. Don’t win. Don’t tie. Lose. Or you will lose, Jack Attack. Something far more precious than a trophy.”
    I stare at the phone. There’s no way out. And now—Alex. Mom.
    Alex takes a shaky breath and lets it out slowly. “I guess we need a plan B.”

Chapter Thirty
    When we get to the locker room, there’s no plan B. But Gil’s there.
    Alex and I exchange looks. Did he tell Coach? I close my eyes and brace myself.
    “I heard what you said. After the game.”
    Alex says, “Gil, I—”
    “I want to help.”
    “Help? Help me ?” That’s the last thing I expected.
    He chooses his words carefully. “Team is about passing the ball around, right? Using support when someone offers it?”
    “Yeah.” I blink. I guess it is.
    “Then what’s the plan?”
    And the weight pressing on my chest eases up.
    Alex lays out the situation. How much I owe. The interest. The threats.
    It’s even more humiliating when someone else tells it.
    Gil’s eyes widen a couple of times, but he listens in silence.
    Alex winds up. “And so we worked out a way to pay him—”
    Gil breaks in. “Back up. The bookie—he says you’re working for him?”
    I nod.
    “It won’t work.”
    Alex and I exchange looks.
    “It’s not money he’s after. It’s control.”
    Alex looks confused. “Why would he turn down $10,000?”
    “That’s pocket change. These guys bet more than that on one game.”
    Baby bets. Nickels and dimes . That’s what he called it.
    “He’s right.” They look at me. “The day I met Luka, he threw down $1,000 because of something I said.”
    “On a tip from a stranger?” Alex says. “No way!”
    But I wasn’t a stranger.
    “He knew who I was. My name, my team, my position.” It fits. I press my head between my hands. “He knew all along.”
    “It happens in Europe all the time.” Gil sighs and rubs his chin. “They go after the guys who control the game. Wine and dine them, give them expensive gifts. Once they get their hooks in…”
    He looks at me and shakes his head. “Jack, they’ll never let you go.”
    Never. How could I be so stupid? I tip back my head and put my hands over my face.
    Alex says, “Then…”
    “He’ll get threats. Or worse.”
    I raise a hand. “Already happening.”
    “If he’s caught, his