“Yes, in Seattle,” Dad said. “If everything works out.”
If everything works out? Then BOOM? Seattle? It was like they’d already decided. How was that fair? It was like the other team deciding to load the bases before you’d even thrown your first pitch!
“I know it’s out of the blue,” Dad said, “but it’s not the kind of chance you get every day.”
“Your dad is really qualified,” Louie added. “He’s done a lot of sports features over the years, and this would be a chance to do more day-to-day coverage, too.”
I shoved my spoon into the trick gelato and left it there. I didn’t want any more. “But what about where we LIVE?” I blurted, upset when I heard the way I asked the question. I wanted it to sound different. When my parents thought I had a bad idea, they said things like, “Are you sure you’ve really thought this through?” I wanted to sound like that, but I couldn’t make the right words get to my mouth.
Every second ticked in my head as I waited for my parents to say that I wasn’t making sense, and of course we lived in Peach Tree. That they couldn’t believe they’d used the word MOVE. Or that I was daydreaming again. (More like daynightmaring.) My skin got clammy all over, except under my cast, where my arm was hot and itchy. Everything was so confusing that Bob and Judy, the imaginary sportscasters who live in my brain, started to try to figure out what was going on.
Bob: Gabby is really blindsided here.
Judy: Well, it’s clear why. It’s like she had home-field advantage and then the field got moved out from under her!
Bob: Like that trick where the magician pulls a tablecloth and everything on the table stays standing?
Judy: Bob, you really have a problem focusing, don’t you?
Bob: That’s a great trick. I love it.
Judy: Sorry, Bob, but I think Gabby is going to need to put her thinking cap on, not try to pull a rabbit out of it.
My dad looked at me with the small smile that makes all his eye crinkles show. “I know, Gabs, this is a lot. And it’s not definite, but it’s a chance I never imagined having. No one wants to uproot you two, but we also would rather do this now instead of when you’re in high school.”
I felt a strange smile plaster itself on my face, and I couldn’t uproot it.
Did I look HAPPY about this? I must have because my dad kept talking excitedly.
“I would be covering baseball—the Mariners—so when the team is on the road, we’d be able to come here for games and to visit, and Louie would keep her job but would work from home and be flexible enough that you two can do all the activities and sports you’re used to. Just in Seattle, instead of here.”
He and Louie went on and on and I felt like they were a light at the end of a tunnel but instead of going closer to the light like you’re supposed to, I was flying backward out of the tunnel as their faces got smaller and smaller.
I know I said this playbook has helped me grow and get better at all this being-a-person stuff, but I’m not the Dalai Lama. I’m not even a regular llama, who, let’s face it, seem like they’d be pretty good in a crisis situation.
Dalai Lama Traits
Considered the human form of the Buddha of Compassion
Works to do no harm and only do things that help others
Excels at kindness to others
Owner of a mind at peace
Has a really nice smile
Llama Traits
Soft wool
Specially adapted feet, allowing them to navigate terrain from snow to sand (no hot dog falls!)
Complex stomach with several departments, allowing them to digest tough foods (bet they never get a bellyache!)
Very curious, very pleasant, will gladly approach humans
Excellent posture!
All I could do was stay still in my seat, listening to everything they said. Peter helped himself to more gelato, and instead of being annoyed with him, I was jealous of him. Why did he get to be so okay with whatever would happen? I hardly ever feel like that about anything! Like, Playbook, that’s the whole reason you exist! Because I don’t like surprises: I like plans, and strategies, not the whole game changing just when I think I figured out the rules!
And I definitely don’t like my family playing an entirely different game—without me.
SCORE OF WHATEVER THAT WAS
Gabby: 0
Gabby for President: 0
Gabby’s Life: 0
THINGS MY PARENTS SAID ABOUT CONSIDERING A LONG-DISTANCE MOVE
“It’s so exciting, and could be a huge adventure!”
“If everything works out, it will be an adjustment, but we know you kids will eventually settle right in.”
“These things happen for a reason.”
“We don’t mean for this to come as a surprise, but the opportunity came up so fast, we had to see what it could mean.”
“We might have to become Mariners fans!”
“This could be GREAT!”
“Do you want some more gelato?”
THINGS YOUR PARENTS SHOULD SAY WHEN THEY’RE CONSIDERING A LONG-DISTANCE MOVE
“Just kidding! What kind of parents would do a thing like this?”
“How will this affect your future?”
“What do you think of Seattle?”
“Oh, that’s right: you hated Seattle. Let’s just cancel this whole conversation.”
“We’d never make such a monumental decision without getting your thoughts first.”
“Will this ruin your life?”
“How silly of us, of course it will ruin your life! You have everything going for you here!”
“On second thought, we really shouldn’t take you out of school and away from your friends.”
“We’re incredibly sorry for even thinking about such a selfish idea! You definitely need more gelato.”
EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED
“Expect the unexpected,” some so-called ancient wise person once said.
You know what THEY didn’t expect? That at this point, they’re probably dead.
“You never know what awaits,” everything in life tells you with a smile.
But the truth is that what awaits is garbage news on speed dial.
“Who knows what’s around the bend?” you’re told when you try to plan.
The secret is that what’s around the bend is mostly poop hitting the fan (think about that!).
I thought I had things figured out, I thought that I could deal.
I even believed I could stay calm and wait for my arm to heal.
My life doesn’t care, my plans don’t matter, I’m not even sure my world is round
Because just when I wanted to fly, I got knocked right down to the ground.
“Expect the unexpected,” is a thing you’ll hear all the time.
You know what’s unexpected? A poem that doesn’t rhyme.
But gum on your shoe
Stepping in poo
Going on a trip and breaking your arm
Oversleeping your alarm
Missing the bus ’cause you’re running late
Getting sick from something you ate
That feeling when no one can come to your party
Clouds in the sky when it’s supposed to be starry
A terrible grade you can’t improve
Your parents telling you that you might MOVE!
The unexpected isn’t easy, like one and one is two.
The unexpected has a secret and I’ll share it with you:
“Expect the unexpected” leaves you hoping for things to go great.
But the unexpected is almost always news that you’ll hate.
THE KNOW YOUR OPPONENT
Goal: Go up against Seattle in the battle for my life!
Action: Study up on my opponent to determine the best way to play it
Post-Day Analysis:
September 2
After my non-reaction at dinner last night, I just went to bed. I started texts to my friends but didn’t
know what to say. When Dad and Louie knocked on my door this morning, I’d pretended to be asleep, and I heard Louie say, “She must need to sleep in.” What I needed was not to see them all weekend. I’d never been SO ANGRY at my parents before. That was the second-worst part of all this; the possibility of moving was still ranked at number one.
I had bad dreams. In them, I was in Peach Tree—my room was exactly the same, right down to the collage of Mo’Ne Davis tacked up above my desk—but out my window was nothing but the Space Needle, surrounded by the kind of gloom that looks like it can swallow you up. I called my friends (in the dream), but when they answered, they didn’t even know who I was. I sent them texts with my picture, reminding them that I was still me, just far away, and all I got back were those three dots to show someone was typing . . . but no message.
So I finally texted Diego—in real life, not in the dream. He’d been worried about me since my arm incident. I think before it had happened, he’d believed I was invincible or something.
Gabby: Bad news.
Diego: Oh no, what happened? Is your arm okay? Is your other arm okay?
Gabby: This is way worse.
Diego: Oh no. Full-body cast? How are you texting?
Gabby: We might be moving to Seattle.
Diego: That’s an excellent birding city.
(I finally was getting used to the bird-watching hobby Diego had brought back from Costa Rica, and even supported his excitement over warblers and robins and feather texture and flight habits. But this was not the time . . . !)
Gabby: Diego! This is serious!
Diego: I know! I didn’t know what to say! But u can’t leave Peach Tree until college, or the majors. U r going to put this town on the map!
Ugh, he was right. I couldn’t leave Peach Tree. I’d been thinking only of the immediate consequences and not how I was going to be a baseball star and Diego was going to rise to the top of the sportscasting game (unless he became a professional birder, which was OKAY). We had BFF goals that relied on me being HERE.
Gabby: There’s no emoji sad enough for this.
Diego: You’ll come up with something, right?
Gabby: I have to. But what?
Diego: I dunno. If u move, we’ll still be BFFs.
Gabby: I know. But I don’t want to move.
Diego: Hey, weird but Braves play Seattle today at 4.
Gabby: U just gave me an idea!
I switched from texting to the internet and did a search for Seattle and bookmarked pages that would be useful. Then I went to Instagram and found things hashtagged “Seattle,” and also added Seattle on my weather app. Because this is how you did things in sports: before a big game, you learned all you could about your opponent. I’ve studied up on other batters and pitchers to see who on the team is a threat or might homer off me. In the battle of me versus Seattle, I needed to know my opponent.
There were a lot of grown-up news stories that might come in handy. Some director of something was mad about taxes, and some head of something else was saying the schools should be better, and everyone seemed to think home prices were too high and traffic was bad. But also, YAWN. I signed up for news alerts and hoped Godzilla would attack Seattle or something. I went downstairs to get some breakfast. If I was going to arm myself with facts, I needed brainpower.
“She’s awake! We were worried you were going to miss the whole weekend,” Dad said, looking too cheerful even for him on a Saturday. “How’d you sleep?”
“Fine,” I said, sounding like I meant it. I put my phone on the counter to help myself to a blueberry muffin. “Good.” Fine and good for someone who’s very angry at you! I thought.
“And everything’s okay?” Louie said. I could see from the look on her face that she was worried about me. Maybe after their big announcement last night she and Dad had realized how upsetting their news was. Still, if I told them now how much I didn’t want to move, it would be like playing a game without warming up first.
“Sure,” I said, taking a bite of muffin.
My phone dinged. Dad picked it up and handed it to me, but as he did, his eyes widened. “You’re getting alerts from the Seattle Gazette?”
“Um, yeah, I, um, because you’re going for a job there,” I mumbled around bites of muffin. No way could I give away the real reason.
“Gabby, how wonderfully supportive,” Louie said. She looked as happy as if I’d showed her a report card of straight As.
Dad put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed. “Thanks, kiddo. I was a little worried you’d be upset,” he said.
“We thought you might be sulking in your room,” Louie said. “But this is a very mature approach.”
VERY MATURE? I wasn’t being mature! I was gathering evidence to show that they were dramatically altering the course of my life! All our lives! Or, possibly altering them!
“Who knows? By Labor Day weekend next year, we could be hosting a barbeque in Seattle,” Dad said.
Who knows? I KNOW! I’m not doing anything in Seattle. EVER.
“If we move,” I said, because I really wanted to keep that IF a big one.
“Yes, if we move,” Louie said. “Whatever happens, we know you’ll make good choices.”
There it was, the exact reason why I couldn’t throw myself on the kitchen floor and say I was never going anywhere. A tantrum was the opposite of a good choice, even if it was what I really wanted to do. Besides, tantrums are a rookie play.
My reconnaissance on Seattle wasn’t going to be enough. Like in baseball, I couldn’t just KNOW that a batter like Mario was really good and I needed to throw my best stuff. I had to be ready in the moment. Sports are about more than facts; they are about FEELINGS. Every game, every play, was a little story, and you had to do the right things at the right moment to win.
I needed something bigger. I needed heart stuff, not just head stuff.
I went to my room and texted Katy and Johnny, separately. They needed to know what was happening.
Their responses were more proof I couldn’t leave:
Katy: Oh NO! We need you here! Plus, you’re my fave collabor8er!!
Johnny: Is it for sure? That’s . . . not good at all. For everyone. But especially me.
I gulped as my inner Gabbys gathered themselves out of their sulk for a real moment of fizzy, roller-coaster romantic thoughts about Johnny that quickly ran off the tracks. I knew what he meant. We were just learning how to hold hands . . . How would we deal with long-distance romance? Still, romance . . . Were we like Romeo and Juliet, wrenched apart by our families? THAT had turned out awful. My flippy stomach-lifting feelings crashed down into total PITS thoughts of having to bail on my first boyfriend ever. And maybe my last. If everyone in Seattle felt about me the way I felt about Seattle, I didn’t have high hopes for my social life.
Because Johnny, as a math whiz, was reliably levelheaded but also very good at solving things, I asked him what he thought I could do. But his response was more levelheaded than solution-y:
Johnny: You can’t really do much, can you? Maybe just make the best of the time you have left?
It was a very mature response. Mature. That word again. It was also kind of disappointing. But at least he followed it up with:
Johnny: Maybe u can make it clear that it’s much better if you can stay?
There was a prayer-hands emoji so I knew he really wanted it to happen. He was right. I had to find a way to stay. My friends all needed me. And I needed them.
I was on the stairs, ready to march down to the kitchen to tell my parents all the reasons this move would definitely ruin my formative years. (Not sure what formative means exactly but I know it’s something parents say.) But then I heard my dad talking to Louie: “Is it just me, or are the kids taking this really well? Maybe we’re doing the right thing.”
Then Louie said, “I don’t know. I’m sure it’s not going to be THAT simple. But if we keep easing them into the idea, it might be smoother when you get the official offer.”
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“You mean IF I get the official offer. They still might go with someone local.”
I kept forgetting that Seattle wasn’t super official yet. Is it wrong to not want my dad to get the job? Because I don’t.
Maybe a tantrum would help. If I stomped into the kitchen and put up a fuss, it would be clear, like Johnny said, that I don’t even want to consider moving. But in a game, if an umpire makes a bad call—like says you’re out when you think you’re not—and you argue, you can make things weird with the ump. It’s always worked better for me to just play harder and let the ump worry about his or her calls.
I needed my parents to see that Seattle was a bad call.
But how would I do that when they were so on the side of TEAM SEATTLE??
Seattle: 1
Gabby’s Life: 0
THE CALL IT LIKE YOU SEE IT
Goal: Keep myself from getting too in the dumps about my (possible) move
Action: Make myself useful at the charity tournament, broken arm or not
Post-Day Analysis:
September 6
Since I wasn’t going to throw a fit about Seattle, I did the mature thing: complained to everyone I knew that I would be leaving and moving to Seattle. Well, MAYBE leaving and moving to Seattle.
Complaining doesn’t do a lot, actually. Still, it’s nice to say every annoying thought you have about your annoying situation and have people listen and react, hopefully in a way that makes you feel like they really understand how cruddy things are.
It was not very presidential, however. Between third and fourth periods, I confused one sixth grader because I meant to talk to him about my candidacy and then I forgot and started telling him how awful my parents were. That might have cost me a vote. (Yes, Playbook, I’m staying in the election for now because I really want to believe I’M NOT LEAVING.)
Gabby Garcia's Ultimate Playbook #3 Page 3
