19“Twenty-one,” called Hugo with delight, crinkling up his leathery, weather-beaten face. I had scored eleven, a personal high for me. I retrieved the ball and passed it to Hugo, who bounced it awkwardly. I don't think he could do anything else with it but shoot. He certainly couldn't run, let alone dribble. But then what did I want with a guy who was turning eighty-seven? I stood looking at him uncertainly. He grinned, no I'd say, beamed back.
“I'm going to the pool. Do you want to come too?”
I sagged a bit more. “Can't. I'm still banned.”
He waved a gnarled fist in the air, then turned around and threw the ball toward the cage where they were all kept and hit it neatly with a thud. The ball wedged inside the cage and didn't bounce out. He turned back to me.
“It will be okay, trust me
