It was a beautiful day in Los Angeles and that had a wonderful effect on Pete. Sunshine, beaches and girls in bikinis were a few of the reasons he decided to move to the city. Days like this could make a person forget dinged up cars and hang-up phone calls. He barely glanced at the dent in the fender as he got in and began to drive.

As he drove, Pete mentally listed all the things he wanted to work on at basketball practice. He has been coaching in the Police Athletic League for several years. While he was proud of the championships his teams had won, he was more proud of the changes in his players. The league was about more than sports. Its' mission was to make a difference in the lives of at-risk youth. Pete did his best to offer guidance and support.

He intentionally parked so that the dent in his fender wasn't visible to the team. Being late was something Pete hated to be, but it made him smile to see that the team had started practice without him. He burst out laughing when he saw that the team, while practicing, wasn't using a ball. Instead they were playing a rousing game of "air ball". A failed lay-up was followed by a rebound and a pass to his star player. The teen mimed a beautiful three point shot.

"You both missed. We won't win the championship with shots like those." A little light teasing was part of building team spirit. His players knew to keep away from personal insults.

The boys laughed and returned the tease with one of their own. Ricky, of the failed three-point shot, started in on his coach. "You're late coach. Did you lose your watch?"

"Nah, he overslept. Too much partying last night, Coach?" Jack, the team's starting center, joined in. Both boys repeated Pete's frequent jibes to his team.

"Hey. Give me a break, huh? Am I ever late?" Pete's parents had drilled into their son the importance of being on time. He was punctual to the extreme; except today. He knew his team wouldn't let him get away with it.

"You know the punishment for being late. Ten laps on the track, now." All eleven players spoke in perfect unison. Pete laughed, knowing they had definitely practiced that rebuke. Okay, he would play along.

"I can't. I…uh…hurt my toe." He told the truth, never one to lie to his kids. Although he did hope they wouldn't ask how he hurt it.

"Uh, huh, wanna try another one?" Again, they spoke as one. All of them trying to look stern but snickering as they put their coach on the spot.

"It's true. I did cut my toe." Pete raised his right foot a little off the ground. He hopped on one foot as he tried to keep his balance. "It was bleeding and everything."

"Coach? Isn't that what you would call a mighty convenient excuse?" The boys crossed their arms and each tapped one foot on the ground.

"Yes!" Pete laughed. "How about we change the subject? Let's talk about grades."

He grinned as the boys teasing stopped at the mention of their grades. To Pete, coaching meant making sure his players were working toward a high school diploma. It wasn't a league rule, but it was one of this coach's rules. To play, the team members had to maintain a B average. He willingly tutored those who needed help with their schoolwork and the graduation rate of his players was one of the reasons that juvenile officers referred troubled kids to him.

For once, the boys didn't hesitate to show him their report cards. There was a C here or there, but all of the team met the B average requirement. Pete was very proud of his players and he told them so. They wore big smiles as practice began for real.

They were working on protecting the ball when Pete snuck up and stole the ball from behind Chris. He was stressing the need to be aware of where the other team's players were when he noticed something. Someone was peeking at them from behind a large tree. It wasn't unusual for people to watch them practice but this person seemed to be trying to avoid being noticed. He made a jump shot before going to investigate the stranger behind the tree. It was the last person he expected to find.

"David? What are you doing here?" Pete hadn't seen the boy since he stopped dating Judy, David's mother.

"I wasn't going to bother you. I…um..um" The boy lowered his head, suddenly shy around Pete.

"Relax, take your time." Pete touched David on the shoulder, trying to reassure the boy. "Tell me why you are here."

Tears welled up in the boy's eyes as he looked up at Pete. "I missed you. Why don't you come around anymore?"

"I've missed you too." In fact, he missed David much more than he missed Judy. How could he tell the boy that his mother had refused to let him see David? "Does your mom know that you are here?"

The eleven year-old shook his head.

"You shouldn't have come here without asking. She must be worried about you." He didn't want to scold the boy. God knew Judy would chastise both of them.

"I wanted to ask you. I called, but hung up when Mom saw me using the phone." That solved the riddle of the phone calls. Pete ran a hand through his hair. His players, who knew that gesture as one of frustration, finally came over.

"We'll take him home Coach. Practice is over, right?" His players had come to view the boy as a mascot. Pete knew they would get him home safe, but that would be the coward's way out of the situation.

"Thanks, but I'll take him home. Put the balls back in the gym and run five laps before you finish." The teens said goodbye and went to run their laps. Pete, his hand still on the shaking boy's shoulder, guided David to the car.

"Pete? What happened to your car?"