Halo Todd cursed as he entered the Rogues locker room. Not twins, Rylan thought. But they had the same haircut. Both were bad. Halo’s hair was worse than Ry’s . . . if that was even possible. Ry at least had short spikes. Halo had a visible bald spot. He would’ve smiled had Halo not looked ready to kill someone. Rylan finished buttoning his navy jersey and tucked it into his baseball pants. Then threaded his belt and asked unnecessarily, “Who’s your barber?” Somehow he already knew. Halo stood two lockers down. He tugged his gray T-shirt over his head. His voice was muffled through the neck hole. “Beth took scissors to me.” “You saw her this morning?” When? Ry wondered. “I located the wraparound bench she wanted for your picnic and delivered it early.” Halo tossed his shirt on the floor of his locker, then heel-toed his athletic shoes. He stood in his socks. “You and I passed at the corner. Didn’t you see me? I waved.” Waved? His ass. Halo’s Hummer was hard to miss.
