Things Seen from Above

by Shelley Pearsall

  Up front, the high schoolers took turns giving Joey high fives, and then Ms. Getzhammer announced that everybody could go back to eating lunch.

  Joey wore his new coat to recess that afternoon—so I guess he must have liked it. I watched him wander around the playground in it, and he even let a couple of kids try it on.

  He didn’t seem to be upset any longer—not like he’d been the day before. I couldn’t decide whether to try talking to him about Homecoming or not. At one point, he flopped down in the middle of the playground for a few minutes and seemed to be thinking about something.

  I waited until he sat up again. Then I wandered over to where he was sitting. Crouching down next to him, I said, “Hey, I just wanted to come over and tell you that I’m really sorry about getting mad at you yesterday. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

  “That’s okay,” Joey replied, trailing his fingers through the wood chips.

  “Are you doing better today?”

  Not looking up, Joey nodded. “Yep. I’m good now.”

  “So are you going to be part of Homecoming tomorrow night?” I casually asked.

  Joey nodded. “Yes.”

  I hesitated a moment before asking, “And did you decide what you’re drawing?”

  “Yep. I definitely know what I’m doing now,” Joey replied in this confident voice. He looked up. “I’m not mad or sad anymore. Everybody will like what I’m doing.” Then he smiled and gave me this funny thumbs-up sign. “You will like it too.”

  Although I was pretty sure his answer meant he was making a tiger—a small part of me still wasn’t sure what Joey Byrd might do.

  “Okay, well, I can’t wait to see it,” I said.

  “Me too,” Joey answered.

  On Homecoming Day, summer returned for one last brief visit. We were lucky. Even though it was almost the end of October, the air was warm. The sky was Buddy Bench blue. And the few leaves that remained on the Yoda Tree were gold.

  I wasn’t a dancer, but I spun around in place when I got to the Buddy Bench on Friday afternoon. “Isn’t this fantastic!” I said to Veena, stretching my arms out in the air.

  Veena seemed startled by my exuberance. “Yes,” she said with a nervous smile. She twisted her dark hair in her fingers. “I’m looking forward to the Homecoming tonight. I’ve never been to an American football match before.”

  “Game. Football game,” I corrected her.

  “Game,” she repeated, shaking her head. “I keep mixing up our sport and yours.” In India, football meant soccer.

  “Trust me, you’ll catch on.” I grinned.

  The one thing I couldn’t figure out how to tell Veena was the fact that I probably wouldn’t be sitting with her at the game. We had made arrangements to meet each other for the pregame show, of course. Veena’s parents were bringing her. My brother was going to drop me off early because my parents had dinner plans. They would bring me home after the game.

  But I couldn’t bring myself to tell Veena that I’d been invited to sit with Noah and the sixth graders.

  Why not? I guess because I figured there was still a chance it might not work out—that maybe I wouldn’t be able to find the sixth graders—or maybe I’d lose my nerve and decide not to meet up with Noah after all.

  Plus, I couldn’t bear to ruin Veena’s excitement about Homecoming. We spent most of recess talking about the game. She pestered me with a million questions. What to wear. What to bring. Where to meet. When to cheer. I explained touchdowns and field goals to her three times, because she was really worried about messing up that part. “I don’t want to cheer when nobody else is,” she said.

  We didn’t pay much attention to Joey because he seemed happy and focused on making a tracing. From what we could tell, he was covering the playground with one of his wave-like designs. His lines looped and curled through the dirt. They swirled around the swing sets and the jungle gym.

  “He looks like he’s having fun,” Veena commented.

  And he was.

  Later on, we would figure out what he was trying to tell us.

  By the time I got home from school on Friday, there wasn’t much time to get ready for Homecoming. My bus dropped me off at four, and Luke had to take me to the game at five-thirty.

  Being a perfectionist, I spent about a half hour on my hair, getting it perfectly smooth and non-frizzy. Then I tried on about ten different pairs of jeans and leggings before deciding that a pair of my slightly faded older ones looked best with my Tigers T-shirt.

  I kept going back and forth between two lotion scents: vanilla almond or orange blossom. Finally I chose vanilla almond, and I decided to take a major risk and wear some coppery earrings I’d never worn before.

  However, I didn’t take the risk of not wearing my glasses (even though I thought I looked much better without them). I wanted to actually be able to see Joey’s tiger, right?

  Before leaving, I stopped by the long silver mirror in our hallway just to give myself one last pep talk. I smiled at the person in the glass. You can do this. It will be fun.

  Maybe it was the hazy light in the hallway or the effect of the earrings, but I thought I looked less serious and more sparkly than usual.

  I tilted my head and smiled.

  Yes, there was definitely something different about me. Usually I couldn’t look in a mirror for more than a few seconds without noticing all the flaws and feeling embarrassed and having to look away.

  Now the person in the mirror gazed right back with this kind of bold and confident look—as if to say: I’m smart and funny, and I’m a good person, and I dare you not to like me.

  Sucking in my breath, I pulled my shoulders back more. Could I look even taller?

  My brother suddenly appeared behind me in the hallway. I spun around.

  “Whoa! You smell like a freaking vanilla farm,” he said, grinning. “Hot date tonight?”

  “No,” I retorted, feeling my face getting warm. “Just stop it.”

  “Okay, okay. Don’t be such a loser.” He put on his mirrored sunglasses and picked up the keys from the table beside the front door. “Let’s go.”

  Luke wasn’t great at backing up, so it took two tries to get out of the driveway. Once we were headed down the road, he opened the windows and turned up the volume of the song he was playing on his iPod. I hunched down in my seat to keep my hair from blowing around too much—and because I couldn’t stand his music.

  After a few streets, Luke looked over at me and said, “Seriously, do you have a date tonight?”

  “No,” I replied with a glare. “I just wanted to look nice for the game because I’m helping out with the pregame stuff. Is that okay?”

  I don’t think my brother had any clue about Joey—or how I was one of the people who’d discovered him.

  “Hey, I don’t care,” Luke said, half shrugging. “None of my business, but I’m just saying—most guys are jerks. Don’t let yourself get hurt by some guy, that’s all I’m saying.” He grinned. “And hey, if you ever need me to beat someone up for you, I will.”

  Okay, I have to admit this whole conversation—even though it was kind of uncomfortable to have with my seventeen-year-old brother in a car—was also kind of sweet. It reminded me of the way he used to be.

  “Thanks,” I said. “But I’m not dating anyone, so it doesn’t matter.”

  “Just saying,” Luke finished. “I’m always here for you, Sis.”

  After circling the high school parking lot three or four times, looking for some of his friends’ cars, he finally dropped me off at the gate. People were just starting to trickle into the stadium.

  “Have fun. Stay out of trouble,” he said, as I opened the door to get out.

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, Dad.”

  Then he zoomed away to hang out with his friends—who weren�
�t into football or Homecoming or Joey Byrd at all.

  * * *

  —

  Of course, the first person I ran into was Julie Vanderbrook. She was walking into the stadium ahead of me with a couple of other sixth-grade girls. Great.

  “Hey, April. I heard you’re sitting with us tonight,” she said in this friendly way when we caught up with each other beyond the gate. I couldn’t tell if she’d heard about Noah, but knowing Julie, I would guess she probably did.

  “Yeah, I think so,” I said vaguely. I waved an arm toward the field. “But I’m helping with the pregame show and Joey first.”

  “Oh, I love Joey. He’s so sweet—and his art is amazing,” Julie said in this sincere-sounding voice. “You’re lucky you get to help out with him. And hey—I like your earrings,” she added, pointing at them.

  Weirdly, this comment also sounded pretty sincere. Was it an act? Or was Julie trying to be nicer to me? I noticed her pink-streaked hair was gone, even though she still wore too much eye makeup for being a sixth grader.

  “Thanks,” I said awkwardly.

  “Hey, good luck with Joey. I’ll see you later in the stands.” Waving, she disappeared into the crowd with her new group of girlfriends.

  Honestly, I wanted to stay mad at her. I wanted to hate her new friends, and her new look, and her stylish clothes, and how she had treated me at the beginning of the school year—but I couldn’t.

  Why not? I guess because it felt like we were all changing. It wasn’t just Julie and her friends. It was me too. Our outlines kept moving and changing every day—and there was no telling who we would eventually become.

  Veena and Mr. Ulysses were already waiting on the sidelines when I got there.

  “Hi, kiddo.” Mr. Ulysses looked up when I reached them. Leaning on one knee, he was tinkering with a wheel on the chalk machine. “Don’t you look spiffy for the game tonight!”

  Then Veena came over and pointed at my copper earrings. “They are very beautiful. Are they new?” She leaned closer to inspect them.

  “Yes,” I said, feeling embarrassed by all the attention. “Where’s Joey?” I asked, glancing around.

  “Over there.” Mr. Ulysses pointed.

  Farther away, Joey was walking slowly along the sideline by himself. He didn’t look nervous. Just focused—as if the white line was a narrow plank with quicksand on either side. What was he thinking about? I wondered. He wore the same clothes from school that day—the Tigers coat over a faded Star Wars T-shirt, with a pair of navy-blue sweatpants and white sneakers.

  As he walked along the sideline, a few of the high school football players came out of the locker rooms and started to do some stretches on the field. One or two waved at Joey.

  At the same time, the marching band was warming up in the Tigers end zone in their orange-and-black uniforms. The evening sun glinted off the trumpets and trombones. I could see some of the Homecoming floats lining up on the stadium’s running track. My skin prickled with excitement.

  We were here.

  I was here.

  “Okay, gang,” Mr. Mac called out when he finally arrived with a big camera slung around his neck and a pizza box in his hands. “Sorry I’m late. Had to stop and pick up a little dinner for myself. Let’s all have a quick meeting over here before things get too crazy.” He motioned us toward the Tigers bench.

  After he collected Joey from the sideline, Mr. Ulysses came over to join us. I saw him give Joey a smile and a quick thumbs-up as they walked together. I could tell the janitor was as excited as the rest of us.

  “Okay, here’s the game plan, gang.” Mr. Mac pulled a wrinkled sheet of notebook paper out of his jeans pocket and unfolded it. “First, the football team will do their pregame warm-ups.” He glanced toward the field, which was now full of football players from both teams doing drills. Footballs sailed back and forth through the air.

  “After that,” he continued, “the announcer will welcome the crowd and introduce the Homecoming Court and the floats. Then we’ll have the national anthem. Then the band”—he pointed in the direction of the band—“will do their pregame show. Three numbers. When that’s finished, they’ll move to the end zone to give Joey the whole field. After that, Joey will finish the show with an awesome Marshallville Tiger.” He grinned at Joey. “The most impressive tiger the world has ever seen. Right, kiddo?”

  Joey nodded.

  “You forgot to mention something else that will happen,” Mr. Ulysses added with a sly grin.

  “What’s that?” Mr. Mac asked.

  “Joey will help Marshallville win by a score of 50–0.”

  Everybody laughed because they knew that would definitely never happen.

  Joey smiled at Mr. Ulysses’s joke, although he didn’t really seem to be paying attention to the conversation. His eyes wandered toward the field, and up to the lights, and in the direction of the band, which was rehearsing one of their songs. Batons flew in the distance, spinning like bright pinwheels against the sky.

  “What would you like for us to do now?” Veena asked in her organized way.

  Mr. Mac put his hands on his hips as he surveyed everything. “Good question. I guess what I was envisioning was that we would stay on the sidelines to give Joey some moral support, and I’d take some pictures of the tiger while he’s working on it. But that’s not exactly going to work from ground level, is it?” The counselor squinted at the field.

  “What about from the top of the stands?” Veena pointed at the grandstand that rose steeply behind us. We had a larger grandstand than a lot of schools because it was used for other events throughout the year. The rows were already filling up with people. “If you and Mr. Ulysses want to stay with Joey, April and I could take pictures from up there for you.” She gestured toward the top rows.

  Right away, I started to panic. I didn’t want to go to the top of the stands. How could I leave Veena there by herself after the show?

  “Great idea.” Mr. Mac nodded. “It’s the school’s camera, so you can return it on Monday if I don’t see you guys later on.”

  “Actually, I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to stay,” I kind of mumbled, but I don’t think anybody heard me. Mr. Mac started showing Veena how to work the camera. Mr. Ulysses stooped over to adjust a wheel on the art machine.

  I shook my head. How was any of this going to work out?

  Nearby, Joey fidgeted with the extra-long sleeves of his coat—pushing them up and down.

  I moved over to him. “You okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” he said with one of his nervous shrugs.

  Trying to ignore my own problems, I gave him a last-minute pep talk. “Just remember to ignore the crowd even if they’re really loud,” I said. “All you have to do is pretend you’re on Marshallville’s playground at recess and stay focused and concentrate like you normally do. Just do your best and I know everybody will love you.”

  “Okay.” Joey nodded.

  Veena spoke up from behind me. “And we’ll make sure to take lots of pictures of your design.” After she put Mr. Mac’s camera around her neck, she pointed at the grandstands. “Remember to look for us. We’ll wave at you, okay?”

  “Okay.” Joey nodded again.

  Then Mr. Ulysses motioned for Joey to follow him. “Well, we better give this art machine of yours a practice run-through along the sidelines before everything gets too busy.”

  Impulsively, I reached out to shake Joey’s hand before he left. “For good luck,” I said.

  Awkwardly, Joey shook my hand and Veena’s hand—and even Mr. Mac’s.

  As we started up the steps into the grandstand, I glanced back over my shoulder to check on Joey one last time. I don’t know why, but I had this weird feeling that this was the last time I would see him.

  He was walking next to Mr. Ulysses, who was pushin
g the chalk machine down the sideline. Mr. Mac followed a few steps behind them, talking on his cell phone. Football players and coaches swarmed everywhere. Reaching up to catch a practice throw, one player came flying toward Joey.

  My breath caught in my chest. I could see disaster unfolding in slow motion with Joey, the football player, and the art machine.

  Fortunately, the player somehow sidestepped Joey at the last minute. The ball sailed harmlessly over Joey’s head and ricocheted off the Tigers bench.

  Crisis averted.

  But the scene reminded me again how crazy this whole idea was. How could we expect one small fourth grader to entertain an entire stadium with his art? What kind of impossible magic were we asking Joey to do? He was just a tiny orange-armed speck moving bravely through a churning ocean of padded shoulders and helmets and flying footballs and chaos.

  A lump rose in my throat. I had no idea what would happen during the show or what the outcome would be—I only hoped he would survive.

  From above, Marshallville’s football stadium looked beautiful. It winked like an emerald under the artificial lights. At night you could see it from miles away, even when the rest of the landscape had faded into darkness.

  The stadium was the center of life in Marshallville, Michigan. Drama and heartbreak, victory and defeat, love and loss—all wrapped up in one neat box. And sometimes, if everything went right, it was the place where legends were made.

  For Joey Byrd, this will be true.

  I could barely keep up as Veena climbed higher and higher. Clearly, I wasn’t as fit (or speedy) as she was. Instead, I kept bumping into people and having to say “excuse me” and “sorry” about every five seconds. My legs burned from the climb.

  Of course, Veena went to the very last row at the top of the grandstands. Behind us, there was nothing except a corrugated metal wall with the words TIGER COUNTRY written on it.