That was all my father had to say after a stranger had infiltrated a supposedly secure gym locker room and tried to get into my locker? Three weeks later, I still had trouble sleeping. Every time I woke up, I saw the Man in the Hat at my locker or the Man with the White Patch reaching out to me. My body’s defense mechanism, allegedly operative at times of stress, never even bothered to kick in. Everything else in my world, however, seemed to move into place. The Griffins had a 3-0 record, I was somehow getting decent grades, and I was nervously, secretly dating Sophi. At practice, my throws got a little more accurate, and the workouts got a little bit easier. Occasionally, I’d get a compliment from a coach. Flab lurked in the background, as always, but left me alone now, too. “You won’t say who’s protecting me besides Coach Carson?” I knew I was badgering my father, but I didn’t care.
