11 DAN VALOIS
Dan Valois lifted his lean, seventeen-year-old body from its nest of sheets and flailed at a buzzing alarm clock. The alarm woke him, and the blast of sun in his face from the parted drapes finished the job. He sat on the edge of the bed, his feet planted on a manure-brown rug dotted with socks, undershorts, jumbled jeans, and balled-up tee shirts. The thought of straightening up crossed his mind as he gazed at the books and papers around his backpack.
He lifted his eyes to the wallpaper scenes of baseball, football, basketball, and every other conceivable ball. A design Mom had chosen. Once it had pleased him but now seemed infantile, reminding him of earlier, simpler days when he had some credibility as a student-athlete. The track trophies atop the cluttered bureau
