BAD BLOOD: The Murder Of Heather Banks

CHAPTER THREE (JACE)

The game was intense. Three minutes into the third quarter and Keenstone had already caught up and passed Daytona High by six points. Jace sat on a bench with his hands on his mouth. "Coach!" he called out when he saw the man, getting up to approach him. "Why in holy hell ain't Johnny in the game?" he whispered furiously. "Calm down Sloe. I can't risk him getting hurt in the game yet. I mean are you seeing the sizes of these guys?!"

"Coach are you even listening to yourself? With all due respect, that's the worst kind of judgment you have ever portrayed in your entire friggin' career. We need Johnny out there."

"And I will put him in the game when the time is- PASS, THE FREAKING, BALL! JONES! Sheesh! Anyway, I will put him in the game when the time is right. Now sit down, I got a game to coach."

"Johnny's the fastest dribbler in your team."

"I know that but-"

"He's also the fastest GUY in your team."

"I know, that's why he's-"

"He's also the strongest point guard you've ever recruited."

"Goddamnit Sloe, what's your point?!"

"PUT HIM IN THE GAME!"

"FINE! TIME-OUT! WALGIER! Get ready, you're going in."

Jace smiled at his success and gave a thumbs up to Johnny. The guy wasn't really worried about getting in. He was, as everyone called him, the team's secret weapon. They once made a conspiracy theory that some spy from the Russian government would be sent to study Johnny's techniques and teach it in an underground bunker or something to some unsuspecting kids. Time-out was over soon, and the game resumed.

The ball was in Keenstone's half, moving towards Daytona High's strong defense. The ball was passed right through the defense, but the center man anticipated it and caught the ball. He passed the ball to the shooting guard of their team, Lenny, who drove to the other half, quickly passing a guard from the other team; then in a swift motion, passed the ball to Johnny. He smiled. This was his zone now. Both the guards in the opposing team came at him swiftly. He let the ball go with his left hand and crossed over one of the guards using his other arm, then spun; he sent the ball between his legs as he spun, passing between the two as they stumbled on their own, then did an exquisite Euro step lay-up and scored.

They all whooped when the basket got in. "That's right Johnny! Keep that up! Keep­-" he stopped when a very peculiar scent hit his nose. Everything around him went almost mute. He was focusing on that singular scent. It smelt... almost like Johnny. "Oh shit." He was out of the court and into the halls in an instant, following the scent keenly. Maybe if he got to it first, he'd be able to catch it... or at least identify it. He was cautious as he moved, until another scent hit him. A familiar one this time. "Moira." He rushed towards the girls' locker rooms calling out for her. "Moira you here?" His phone was out of his pocket then, but no response came when the call was made. He was getting worried now.

"Moira!" he ran to where her locker was, almost desperate now. She was not there, but her scent was still a bit strong. He looked in every class where her scent was; not there. The library... maybe. He had long lost the original scent in pursuit of his sister. "Where are you?" He walked into the library carelessly and looked around. To his delight and utter irritation, there she sat; on one of the tables with air-pods in her ears. He walked over to her irritably and tore one from her ear. "Hey! I was listening to that!" "Could you at least answer your phone? I was worried sick damn it. Why aren't you at the game anyway?" he was relieved that she was safe, but the game! " I was finishing up on something Jace. Jeez, give a girl a break-"