Boy21

by Matthew Quick

Page 13

 

  “No, sir,” I say.

  “I owe you an apology, then. ”

  I don’t really want an apology, but I’m feeling relieved. I just want to play basketball. I just want Coach to be happy with me.

  “It’s been a strange situation for all of us. Listen. How about this? I’m going to step out of the room for a few minutes and see if you two can work something out,” Coach says, and then he does just that.

  Boy21 and I stand in silence for what seems like a long time.

  I can hear the squeaking of sneakers on the court and the girls’ coach yelling about hard work. The office smells of sweat and leather—like an old baseball glove. It’s pretty dusty too.

  I’m sort of pissed about being put in this position. Isn’t it Coach’s job to make sure everyone’s on the same page? And he just leaves the room?

  Eventually Boy21 says, “I don’t want to ruin your senior season, Finley. I don’t even care about basketball anymore. ”

  I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing.

  Coach yelling at me during practice messed with my head, and I still feel a little out of sorts, even though I realize Boy21 basically lied to him. But I’m not mad at Boy21 at all. I’ve never met anyone who would cease doing what they are best at just so I could do it. I don’t think I’d stop playing basketball for anyone.

  “And I can’t play unless I’m number twenty-one. I have to be twenty-one. That’s just the way it is,” he says.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “My father was number twenty-one in high school, and he’s monitoring me from outer space. I promised I’d always wear number twenty-one for him, so long as I played ball. And now that he’s on a spaceship so far away, I feel like it’s more important than ever—but if I don’t play basketball this year, I won’t have to worry about numbers at all. Which is good, because you’re already number twenty-one, and you’re my best Earthling friend. I could just root for you from the stands, which could be a lot of fun. I could sit with your dad and Pop and we could cheer you on until I leave this planet. And I think Mom and Dad will be coming soon to take me into outer space, so what’s the point of me playing basketball anyway?”

  I look into Russell’s eyes. He’s fighting back tears. I wonder if he really thinks his parents are on a spaceship or if he’s just using space as some sort of shield—as a layer of words that allows him to express himself honestly almost in camouflage, as strange as that sounds.

  Something is going on. It’s like Boy21’s giving me clues by making up stories about outer space.

  Why?

  This is the first I’ve heard Russ talk about outer space since we watched the space shuttle launch on my roof to mark his birthday.

  If he’s as good as Coach says he is, I know what’s best for the team, and I’ve always put myself second for the team. That’s what good basketball players do.

  I think I know what’s best for Russell.

  I think about what good friends do.

  I take off my number 21 practice jersey and toss it to Boy21.

  He catches it and says, “Finley, if I take this, if I start to play basketball to the best of my abilities—especially if I use my extraterrestrial powers—there’s no way that you can beat me out for the position of point guard. You’ll have absolutely no shot. ”

  “We’ll see about that,” I say.

  “You have to promise me that you’ll be my friend regardless. I need you to be my friend. Please promise me. ”

  “I’m your friend no matter what happens. ” I mean it.

  “I’ll hold back for as long as I can, but eventually, I won’t be able to control myself,” he says. “When I play basketball, something inside of me changes. It’s just the way I’m programmed. ”

  “I don’t want you to hold back. ” If he’s going to take my spot, he at least owes it to me not to hold back. I want to win or lose it fair and square.

  When Boy21 doesn’t say anything in response, I say, “Do you really believe that your parents are coming in a spaceship to take you away?”

  “Yes. Early in the new year, most likely, but it’s hard to tell because Mom and Dad are not using Earthling calendars anymore, since they no longer reside in this solar system. Your calendar is based solely on the Earth’s rotation around the sun. Once you pass Pluto, your Earth calendars are meaningless. ”

  “But you’re still not going to talk about outer space with our teammates, right?”

  “They’ll know I’m not human when they see me play basketball,” he says. “I won’t be able to keep it a secret, because my skills are… otherworldly. ”

  I nod slowly, waiting for Boy21 to start laughing, for Coach to come running in with the rest of the team, pointing at me and howling at the elaborate practical joke, but that doesn’t happen.

  These words coming out of any other boy’s mouth would sound like hyperbole or plain old trash talk, but Boy21 is dead serious. It’s not even like he’s proud of his skills. He’s willing to hide his ability as if it were something to be ashamed of.

  “You believe me, right, Finley? You believe I’m going back up into the cosmos with my parents. You of all people,” he says.

  I nod. “Do you mind if I talk to Coach alone?”

  “Okay. ”

  He leaves and Coach shuts the door behind him.

  “I’m sorry I doubted you, Finley,” Coach says. “The situation has been hard on me. His father was a good friend of mine, so I feel a certain sense of—”

  When Coach doesn’t finish his sentence, I swallow once and wait.

  Coach says, “You gave Russ your number?”

  I nod.

  “You’re a good kid, Finley. A real good kid. I’m making you and Terrell captains. I wasn’t going to tell you until later, but considering the circumstances, I—”

  “Coach, he really believes his parents are coming for him in a spaceship. ”

  “I’m not so sure about that. ”

  “He needs help. ”

  “He’s getting it. Russ sees a psychologist twice a week. You want to know what Russ told his grandparents two weeks ago?”

  I don’t think Coach should be telling me what Boy21 says to his grandparents in confidence, but he keeps talking.

  “Russ said his parents were going to pick him up in October—in their spaceship—but he sent a message using his mind or something like that. He asked his parents if he could stay on Earth for a few more weeks because he’d made a friend named Finley and Finley has a ‘calming presence. ’ He said he was enjoying your company. ”

  I swallow again.

  “He’s on the edge, Finley. I don’t think I have to tell you what that means, because you’re a smart kid. When you see him play—really play ball—everything will make sense to you. Trust me on this one. ”

  When I leave the coaches’ office the rest of my squad is long gone. The second-string girls’ team is going over a zone defense, so Erin’s back is against the wall; she’s hugging her legs and resting her chin on her knees. Her eyes are on me, which is when I realize I’m shirtless. I see concern on her face, but I can’t think about Erin now so I just turn my head and go change in the locker room.

  I find Boy21 outside and he follows me to the town library.

  In the young-adult section two copies of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone are available, so I check out both and hand a copy to Boy21.

  “Wes was taking heat for reading this. He told Terrell it was required reading for AP English,” I explain.

  Boy21 nods.

  Wes is our teammate, so we get his back.

  Boy21 follows me home, where I make sandwiches and we eat with Pop, who is sober enough to mind his manners and ask us questions about practice, all of which I answer vaguely, and then Boy21 and I hang in my room and read Harry Potter until it’s time to go back to the gym.

  The book’s about a kid who has an awful life but gets a chance to escape it w
hen he finds out his dead parents were wizards. Reading it makes me wonder if I’ll ever escape Bellmont, and, if so, what sort of life I might have somewhere else.

  We arrive to the second session early so we continue to read in the bleachers while the girls finish practicing.

  Wes sits down next to us, notices what we’re reading, and then whispers, “You guys don’t have to do this. ”

  I can tell he’s touched by the way he’s looking at me, so I give him a smile. I hold up my fist and he gives me a pound.

  “It’s a really good book,” Wes says, and then pulls out his copy. “Surprisingly good. ”

  When Terrell, Hakim, and Sir see us reading Harry Potter they just shake their heads.

  During the second session Boy21 picks up his game, but not too much. I actually think he plays just well enough to make the team, but not well enough to challenge me for my position.

  My ego wonders if all his and Coach’s talk about how good he is might just be inflated hype, but there’s something deep down inside me that knows Boy21’s still holding back.

  He’s not going one hundred percent and doesn’t get physical with anyone.

  He’s simply coasting without making any mistakes.

  He’s in the game, but he’s not playing the game.

  After she changes in the locker room, Erin sits alone in the stands for a while watching us, but then halfway through practice I look up and she’s gone.

  I don’t like her watching me practice because it makes me nervous, but I already miss her.

  22

  WE PRACTICE, WE GO TO SCHOOL, we do our homework, we read Harry Potter… and that’s really all Boy21 and I do.

  When he asks why we don’t see Erin anymore, I say, “Basketball is my girlfriend now,” which makes him laugh, and I guess it does sound pretty funny.

  We finish reading the first Harry Potter book a few days after Wes does.

  Before Friday-afternoon practice, while shooting around in the gym, Wes says, “So what did you think of Sorcerer’s Stone?”

  “If one of your friends had magical powers,” Boy21 says, “would you want to know about it?”

  “Like Harry does?” Wes says, moving his shoulders back six inches and scrunching up his face. “Real magical powers?”

  “Powers that not everyone else has,” Boy21 says.

  “Hell yes, I’d want to know,” Wes says.

  “What if it meant you’d never see them again? Not everyone gets to go to Hogwarts, right?” Boy21 starts rubbing his palms against his sides.

  “Why you askin’ me this, Russ?”

  Boy21 rolls the back of his head across his shoulders.

  Wes cocks his head sideways at me, but I only shrug.

  “You guys want to come over my house tonight and watch the movie version of the book?” Wes asks. “My mom got it for me on Netflix. ”

  So that night the three of us watch the movie version of the book, which is pretty good. Lots of magic, castlelike buildings, and friendship.

  After the movie Wes takes us into his room and plays his favorite rap group, N. E. R. D. The music is very funky, not like the straight-up gangsta rap music I usually hear in the neighborhood, although there is a lot of cursing.