The Perfect Star

by Rob Buyea

  If you want to know the truth, I didn’t spend a lot of time worrying about Mark after that. I was too freaked out about Natalie. A week before, the beach had only been an idea. Now it was really happening. How was I supposed to act with her? The worst was that we had to pick her up, and that meant there was a good chance I was going to see her parents. How was I supposed to act with them? Luckily, they weren’t around when we got to her place. It was just Natalie, and that was good, because I wasn’t ready for her dad to put me through the boyfriend wringer.

  “Hi,” I said when she came to the front door.

  “Hi.”

  “Ready?”

  “Ready,” she said.

  She pulled the house door closed, and we walked to the Highlander, but we didn’t hold hands or anything like that. I was just hoping we’d move past one-word sentences before the end of the day. We hopped inside the SUV, and Brian headed for Randi’s house next. Madison was cool and started talking to Natalie right away. That helped, because I probably would’ve sat there in awkward silence. Why was this so hard?

  “How did you and Brian meet?” Natalie asked.

  “We met at the local soup kitchen where we volunteer.”

  “I didn’t know we had a local soup kitchen,” I said. “We have homeless people here?”

  “Homelessness is a real thing everywhere,” Madison said. “You guys should join us sometime.”

  “I’d like that,” Natalie replied.

  Did our next couples date just get planned? I wondered.

  Natalie looked at me, and I smiled. I didn’t know what else to do.

  Before we got to Randi’s house, Natalie gave us the lowdown so that we wouldn’t be surprised to see Randi in a knee brace and using crutches, and so we wouldn’t bombard her with a million questions. “If Randi brings it up, fine,” Natalie said, “but you shouldn’t, because she needs a break from everyone interrogating her.”

  We were cool with that. Madison did more small talk after we had Randi in the car, and then we made our last stop at Scott’s. Gavin was there, too, because Meggie was spending the day with Mickey. Once we had everyone, it was on to the beach.

  Brian got us there early, so it wasn’t crazy-crowded and we were able to claim a good spot. We spread out a blanket and our towels, set up the few chairs we had brought, positioned the coolers and other supplies where we wanted, and got some tunes playing. Brian stuck our umbrella into the sand—and then it was beach time. This was the part I had been worrying about, but I should’ve known Scott would take care of everything.

  He yanked off his T-shirt and threw it on the ground. “Can you put sunscreen on my back?” he asked, handing me his squeeze tube.

  Gavin snickered. Are you kidding me? I thought. This was the sort of thing I should’ve been doing for Natalie—not Scott! I squirted a blob onto his shoulder and did a couple of quick circles with my hand to rub it in. Then I glanced around to see if anyone had seen me. What I saw was Madison lying on her towel. I’d never seen my brother’s girlfriend like that. In a bikini, I mean. She was smoking hot.

  “You guys can put your eyes back into your heads now,” Randi whispered.

  Gavin and I jerked around. Maybe I didn’t know what to do or how to act with Natalie at the beach, but I knew that staring at other girls had to be at the top of the list of what not to do.

  “Oh my gosh!” Scott cried. “That girl’s butt cheeks are showing!”

  “Don’t point,” Gavin hissed, knocking Scott’s arm down. “Next thing you know, her boyfriend will be over here wanting to beat us up.”

  “You should see if she needs help putting sunscreen on those,” Brian teased.

  Madison punched him in the arm for that comment, and my brother laughed.

  “If you get to stand out here showing off your muscles, then she has the same right to flaunt her parts,” Natalie said, “though you’ll never catch me wearing something like that.”

  “My biceps and her butt cheeks aren’t the same,” Scott said, flexing his arms. “See?”

  Everyone laughed, including Natalie, because we did see. Nothing on Scott resembled muscles. He had a point.

  “Last one in’s a rotten egg!” biceps boy yelled, racing toward the water.

  Gavin and I looked at each other and bolted after him. Scott beat us, so we dunked him. When he came back up, we dunked him again for good measure. Tough love. We stayed in the water swimming and horsing around while the girls stuck to reading and tanning on the sand. I kept stealing glances at Natalie because she was rocking it in her swimsuit.

  “I’m hungry,” Scott announced after he’d had enough fun in the water.

  Gavin and I didn’t care, so we followed him and rejoined the others. Brian helped me pull out the fruit and chips, and we hung out chilling and snacking. When Scott had had his fill, he decided it was time for a game of beanbag toss. All the worrying I’d done about what to do at the beach had been for nothing. I had Scott to show me the way.

  Beanbag toss turned out to be a great idea because that put me standing next to Natalie, just the two of us by our end.

  “Sorry I didn’t go swimming,” she said. “I didn’t want to leave Randi sitting all alone.”

  “It’s okay. I’m just glad you came.”

  “Me too. Thanks for letting everyone else tag along.”

  “You kidding? I was happy they wanted to come. I was nervous about it being just the two of us.”

  “You were?”

  “I’m not very good at this boyfriend stuff,” I admitted.

  “You’re doing great,” she said.

  I had never wanted to kiss her more than I did right then, but I didn’t dare. No way was I trying that in front of everyone. Did she even want me to kiss her? How are you supposed to know?

  “Is it time for s’mores yet?” Scott yelled.

  Natalie and I chuckled.

  “We’ve got to build a fire first,” Brian said. “We need rocks for the outside and wood to burn. Start collecting.”

  So that’s what we did. Natalie went back with Randi, and I got busy helping Gavin and Scott find rocks and sticks and logs. Brian built a solid fire, and we roasted hot dogs, and marshmallows for s’mores. It was great.

  We stayed at the beach until the sun went down, and we might’ve stayed even longer if the bugs hadn’t started snacking on us. It was as close to perfect as you could get—except I was starting to feel bad that Mark wasn’t there.

  Our day at the beach was some of the most fun I’d ever had with my friends. I did so much swimming and playing games and snacking. All the chips and soda I had were great, but the best was when Trevor’s brother made us a bonfire. I ate three hot dogs and four s’mores! My belly was ready to explode, but I felt terrific.

  I was so whupped when I finally got home, I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow. I woke up the next morning with sand in my bed and my back killing me from sunburn, but better my back than my butt cheeks. Mom rubbed aloe all over me, and that helped. I scarfed down a bowl of Cocoa Puffs and let Mickey have the prize inside the box, because after a day of fun in the sun I didn’t have time for foolishness. I had to get back to work.

  Football preseason was right around the corner, and we still didn’t have a coach, but I wasn’t panicking. Mr. Allen would find someone. In the meantime, I was doing double the studying and preparing so that I could help our new hire make as smooth a transition as possible. I was reviewing our playbook, tweaking plays, deleting others, and adding a few new wrinkles. I even began researching our opponents so that I could get cracking on scouting reports. The more we knew about our competition, the better off we’d be. I scoured school websites and local papers, looking for any news. You’d be surprised how much you can learn from a simple article. Coaches often mention key players and even tip their hand about team strengths and
game plans. So far I hadn’t come across anything big, but that changed when I fired up the computer and hopped onto the Internet that morning.

  The Titans of North Lake were determined to get revenge after we’d spoiled their season last Thanksgiving. They knew we had a skilled quarterback in Gavin Davids, but they felt they had the answer. His name was Brutus Stonebreaker.

  Brutus was their new star middle linebacker. He was a transfer, which was something I’d read about earlier in the summer, because it was becoming a hot topic with parents. Some people griped that these transfers were unethical. They said kids were moving to new schools just so they could repeat eighth grade and delay starting high school. Supporters argued it was so the kids got an extra year of academic maturity, but critics claimed it was an evil scheme to make kids bigger, faster, and stronger than their peers so that teams had a better chance at winning and the transfers had a better chance of earning an athletic scholarship.

  Judging by Stonebreaker’s picture, the bigger, faster, stronger thing was definitely true. You could even throw in “uglier.” The guy had a full beard, and muscles like the Rock. If he got his hands on Gavin, he might crush him.

  “Houston, this is Mother Ship,” Mom suddenly announced behind me. “I have news. Over.”

  I spun around. “Copy that, Mother Ship. What’s the news? Over.”

  Mom stopped pretending. “This came yesterday,” she said, handing me the letter. It was from school.

  It’d been a long, hot, and tiring day at the beach, but none of that mattered to Megs. We had to read before she could go to sleep. I woulda put up a fight, except we’d finished James and the Giant Peach and were moving on to the book Woods had given me. Like always, I was curious why she’d picked it. I wanted to see what the mixed-up files were all about, so even though I was dog-tired, we got into Meggie’s bed, and I started reading. We didn’t get very far before our eyes closed, but little did we know, we’d begun one of the most important books we would read together.

  As much fun as the beach had been, it was double bad when I woke up the next morning. I had a stiff neck and dog hair all over me from spending the night with Megs and Otis, but that was nothing. While I’d been gone having a good time with my friends, one of those fancy-shmanzy letters from school had arrived. I found it on the kitchen counter when I went to get breakfast. I opened it right away.

  Dear Gavin,

  We regret to inform you that preseason camp has been canceled…

  There was more after that, about how the school was still hoping to save the season, but it was all a bunch of bull. After everything that had gone down with my family and Coach Holmes last year, nobody wanted anything to do with our football program. The school wasn’t gonna find a coach.

  My dreams had been dashed again. Me and Randi—in the same boat.

  I called Gavin as soon as I got done reading it. “Did you see the letter?”

  “Just read it,” he said.

  “I’ve got a plan.”

  “Oh yeah? What?”

  “We’re going to hire Coach.”

  “That won’t work,” he grumbled. “We can’t do that.”

  I wasn’t listening. “Don’t tell me we can’t. My mom’s driving us to the Senior Center. We’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes.” I hung up and went to get dressed. We’d hired Coach once before, and we were going to do it again.

  * * *

  —

  Gavin and I didn’t swing by Grandpa’s room when we got there. We went straight to Coach’s. That’s how important this was. But Grandpa was still the first person we saw, because he was hanging out with Coach like he usually did.

  “Holy mackerel!” he hollered when he saw me. “You’re looking mighty dapper today, Scott. What’s the occasion?”

  I straightened my bow tie. “We’re here on official business,” I said. “We need to meet with Coach. Where is he?”

  “Mrs. Woods is with him in the bedroom,” Grandpa said. “You’d better have a seat.”

  “How long will they be?”

  “I don’t know. Grab us the chessboard, and we’ll play while you wait.”

  Patience wasn’t my strength, and Grandpa knew that, but there wasn’t anything I could do, so I grabbed the board and sat down across from him. Gavin spotted Coach’s scrapbook and spent the time thumbing through it again.

  Grandpa and I were getting close to finishing our match when Mrs. Woods finally came out.

  “How’s Coach?” I asked as soon as I saw her.

  “Taking a nap,” she said.

  “Can you wake him up? This is important.”

  Mrs. Woods shook her head. “No. I’m sorry, Mr. Mason. Coach is not feeling his best, so we need to let him sleep. But maybe I can help you with whatever you need?”

  I thought about it for a second, and then I let it out. Even my best hold-your-breath technique wasn’t keeping this inside. “We just learned our preseason has been canceled and the school still hasn’t found anyone to lead our team. We’re here to hire Coach for the position.”

  Mrs. Woods glanced at Grandpa and Gavin and back at me. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mason, but Coach isn’t your guy. You’re smart enough to understand why I have to say that, so I’m not going to argue with you about it. That being said, I do have somebody in mind who might be able to help you out. And don’t worry, this person would be Coach’s pick for the job, too. Let me see what I can do.”

  “Who is it?” I asked.

  “Never mind about that. You just keep studying, Junior. And you keep throwing, Valentine. That’s what Coach would tell you.” She walked over to the end table and grabbed her purse and car keys.

  “Henry, I have a couple of quick errands to run while Coach is napping. Olivia is on her way over, but are you okay to stay here till she arrives or I get back?”

  “Sure thing,” Grandpa said.

  “Thank you.”

  Mrs. Woods left, and I turned to Gavin. “Who do you think it is?”

  He shrugged. I glanced at Grandpa, and he shrugged, too.

  “Well, anybody is better than nobody,” I said.

  “After last season, I don’t know if I’d say that,” Gavin warned.

  I nodded. He was right.

  “If this person is someone Coach would pick, then I’m sure they’ll be good,” Grandpa said.

  I nodded harder. That had to be true.

  “Mr. Mason, where’s Smoky today?” Gavin asked Grandpa.

  I’d been so distracted with hiring Coach that I hadn’t even noticed that Smoky wasn’t on Grandpa’s lap.

  “He’s in with Coach,” Grandpa said. “He’s been spending more time with him lately.”

  There couldn’t have been a bigger sign, but somehow I missed it.

  NATALIE KURTSMAN

  ASPIRING LAWYER

  Kurtsman Law Offices

  BRIEF #4

  September: Welcome Back to School

  monkey wrench (noun): obstacle; something that interferes with plans, schedules

  “Monkey wrench” was not a term in my everyday repertoire, though Father had used it a few times in my presence. He maintained it was important that a lawyer be equipped to effectively communicate with all people, which meant that the more flexibility and versatility I had with language, especially slang, the better off I’d be. I was relieved when we didn’t encounter any monkey wrenches at the beach. I had a lovely time, and with that adventure safely behind me, I was able to focus my energy on the start of eighth grade.

  By now I trust that you know my position: day one of a school year is all about first impressions. However, to be honest, I actually contemplated not arriving extra early this year, because somehow—I hoped by mistake—I’d been assigned to Mr. Murdoch’s homeroom. Mr. Murdoch was our big-bellied and rather smelly PE teacher who on
ly ever wore sweatpants. I’d first met him during sixth grade; he wasn’t my favorite, nor was his class, but I decided to give him a chance. I reported early so that he would see I treated homeroom seriously and that I expected the same from him.

  “Here’s to a great year, Mr. Murdoch,” I said, handing him an apple, despite being quite certain he would’ve preferred a doughnut. Too bad. It was the gesture that mattered—and his cholesterol; I was not about to contribute to his health risks.

  “Thank you, Natalie,” he replied, whether out of sincerity or obligation, I couldn’t be sure, but either way it helped us get off on the right foot, which was another point Father had taught me was important.

  I’m pleased to report that Mr. Murdoch’s homeroom performance was satisfactory that day. He successfully took attendance, asked about our summers, told a lame joke, and then shared announcements—thereby introducing the monkey wrench. Instead of marching off to our first-period class, we were told to report to the auditorium for a surprise assembly with Mr. Allen. This was atypical and unexpected to say the least, and definitely disrupted my schedule—the exact definition of a monkey wrench.

  “What for?” one of the boys asked.

  “I don’t know, kid. I don’t ask questions. I just do what I’m told.”

  I had hoped to link up with Randi in the hallway; she was one week removed from surgery, and though everything had gone well with her procedure, she was certain to need help. But it was Scott who found me instead. “Natalie,” he called, running up and tapping me on the shoulder.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Any idea what Mr. Allen’s got up his sleeve?”