"Mr. Cheever says he reserved Court 4."
"He wrote his name over mine."
"He says there wasn't a name."
"There was a name."
"Okay." Ferrol's voice was flat. Not unkind. Just flat, like a road through a state you are trying to get out of. "You live around here?"
"I live on Quarry. About a mile."
"You got ID on you?"
Ruel's school ID was in his bag. He said so. He asked if he could get it. Ferrol said go ahead, slow. Ruel unzipped the bag slowly, reached in slowly, found the lanyard, and handed over the plastic card with his picture on it from the first day of tenth grade, when he had not known yet that his hair was doing something strange on the left side.
Ferrol looked at it. "Merriam East."
"Yes, sir."
"How old are you?"
"Sixteen."