The Quick Fix by Jack D. Ferraiolo Page A

the most infamous game in Franklin history? Shouldn’t be that hard to remember.”
    â€œI know the same as you,” she said. “The same as everybody. Pete threw the game to make a quick buck, but Will did everything he could to try and win it anyway.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œPete wouldn’t pass to Will. Whenever Pete had the ball, he’d try to drive and shoot or he’d pass it to one of the other players—you know, other than Will. They lost, Pete got caught, and he’s been hooked on Pixy Stix ever since.”
    â€œNothing else?” I asked.
    â€œNope.”
    â€œBull,” I said. “You’re not a bad liar, but you’re not a great one, either. What else did you hear?”
    She smiled, as if lying to me had been a test and I had passed it. “Couple of things,” she said. “We’re there all the time, so of course we hear stuff. I’ve heard that Pete wasn’t the only kid throwing that game. That he had help.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œNo one mentioned any names.”
    â€œDo you believe it?”
    She paused for a moment. “I don’t know. It was a bizarre game. Were you there?”
    â€œYeah, but I had other things going on.”
    â€œWhat kind of other things?” she said with a sly smile on her face.
    â€œCasework. Nothing I can talk about.”
    â€œOh,” she said. “Making out with someone under the bleachers?”
    â€œUhhh … no. Why are you so interested?”
    â€œMaybe I want to talk to one of your satisfied customers.”
    I started sweating, which meant either I had malaria or I just realized that Cynthia was hitting on me. “So, what about the game,” I said, trying to get us back on target.
    She held her index finger up, then placed it gently on my lips. “Shhh,” she said. “I’m not sure I want to talk about the game anymore. I think I found a topic that’s more … intriguing.”
    Before she could say anything else, the door opened. When Liz Carling walked in, I knew that fate and karma both hated me. Cynthia must have seen it on my face, because without a word, she turned to see what I was staring at: Liz, framed by the doorway, looking straight at us. Cynthia slowly let her finger fall away from my lips. It didn’t matter; Liz had already seen it.
    Liz looked at us for a second or two, then cast her eyes to the floor and walked over to a table in the front. Two of her friends came in behind her, giggling and talking. They all sat down. Liz stared at us, as if she didn’t want to but couldn’t help it. Liz’s friends were still chatting and laughing. When they tried to include Liz, they noticed that she wasn’t listening to them. They followed the line of her stare until all three of them were looking at Cynthia and me. Her friends’ smiles disappeared.
    â€œYou okay?” Cynthia whispered to me. “Matt?”
    â€œYeah … sorry … I’m all right. But I have to … uh …”
    â€œYeah, I know,” she said. “Go ahead.”
    I stood up and walked to the far end of the bar, feeling like a baby giraffe who had just learned to walk. I sat down on one of the stools.
    Liz stood up from her table and walked over. She sat on the stool to my right. Her friends watched us.
    â€œMatt,” she said.
    â€œHey, Liz. Taking a break from chess?” I asked. I tried to sound casual, but I felt stiff and unnatural.
    â€œIt’s okay, Matt. I know it’s just business.”
    â€œIt’s just business.”
    â€œI know. I just said that.” A wicked smile spread across her face. “There’s no way that girl would be talking to you if it were anything but.”
    â€œOw.”
    â€œDon’t try to trade barbs with a chess master. We know your moves before you do.”
    â€œOh, so you’re a chess master now?” I asked. “Where’s your