by Rob Buyea
I peeked at Trev and saw him staring at the floor and smirking. It was obvious what play he was recalling, but our smooch was definitely not something we’d be covering on the show.
“Okay. Places, everyone,” I said, kicking us into gear. “Let’s make sure we’re ready to go.”
I glanced at Mrs. Woods, and she winked. She knew about one of my surprises, but not both.
We ran through the normal segments of our broadcast—lunch menu, school announcements, Scott’s weather report, and Randi’s sports recap—and then it was time for the first surprise.
“Good morning, Lake View Middle,” I said, greeting my viewers. “We’re taking extra time on today’s show to introduce a new story, but before we get to that, I’d first like to invite our favorite retired teacher and broadcast supervisor, Mrs. Woods, to the set for a special announcement.”
Mrs. Woods walked out and stood before the camera. “Since Coach Magenta can’t be here this morning, she asked me to share a letter she received from the football coaches association.” Mrs. Woods looked down and read from the piece of paper she was holding. “ ‘Dear Coach Magenta, we are pleased to inform you that Gavin Davids has been selected to play in the state’s inaugural eighth-grade all-star game. The game will be held inside the Lake Region Dome on artificial turf. More details coming soon. Congratulations.’ ”
Mrs. Woods smiled and offered Gavin her compliments, while Scott started cheering wildly. Trevor, Mark, and Randi followed suit, but I took that as my cue to quickly resume with the show before the wheels fell off the bus.
I slid back in front of the camera. “Thank you, Mrs. Woods, for that exciting announcement, and congratulations to Gavin. Now it’s time for me to share a new story with you—one that begins with my friend Robbie.”
Mark clicked on the designated link, and our screen cut to the first video I had uploaded. It was a shot of Robbie at Kids Klub. “Can you tell us your name?” I could be heard asking.
“You know my name, you silly.”
The Recruits giggled.
“Yes, I know your name, but my many classmates watching this might not know you,” I said.
“I’m Robbie. Can I tell your friends a joke?”
I remember not expecting him to say this, but once he had, I’d known that it was perfect. Robbie’s joke of the day would become our new segment. “Sure, okay,” I said.
“Why did the chicken cross the road?”
“Why?”
“To get to the stupid person’s house.”
I waited for more, but that was it. “I don’t get it,” I said.
“Knock, knock,” he said.
“Who’s there?”
“The chicken!” Robbie screeched.
We were supposed to stay quiet on the set, but the Recruits couldn’t keep from laughing out loud at that. My plan was working.
“Got any more?” I asked Robbie.
“I’ve got one for you. What kind of underwear do reporters wear?”
“Gee, I don’t know,” I said.
“News briefs!” Robbie squealed.
I heard laughter coming from across the hall after that one. The screen cut away from Robbie and came back to me in the broadcast room. “You can expect to hear more from Robbie throughout the rest of the week. He’s only part of an important story that needs to be told. I’m Natalie Kurtsman, saying, ‘Have a razzle-dazzle day, Warriors.’ ”
Our show ended, and I glanced around the room. Robbie had put a smile on everyone’s face—but those smiles quickly faded when we saw Gavin’s scowl. You could feel the tension in the room. This was serious, but I’d known that going in.
One by one my teammates left. No one said a word—not even Scott. What have I done? I wondered.
The only one who said anything was Mrs. Woods. She was my coach, and she knew just what I needed.
“Miss Kurtsman, I realize you’re determined to become a lawyer, and I have no doubt that you could make an exceptional one, but it seems to me you might be more interested in helping people than perhaps you are in laws and bureaucracies. Don’t sell yourself short. Being a lawyer is a respectable job and a major accomplishment, and in no way do I intend to minimize that, but you can be more. You can use your lawyer background to make a difference for humanity. That’s what you’re doing now. And as you can see, such pursuits won’t be met without controversy, but you need to keep going.
“Keep going, Miss Kurtsman.”
She patted my arm, and I looked up through wet eyes to see her leaving.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Those segments with Robbie Holmes that Natalie was playing on our morning show were fun, but after a few days, the fun was wearing off. It was time for her to move forward. Gavin still hadn’t said anything, but he didn’t need to. His cold silence said it all. I didn’t want some fight going down that had me needing to choose sides, so I tried talking to Natalie about it when we were walking to class.
“Natalie, you weren’t there during football last year. Mr. Holmes was really bad to Gavin. I mean, really bad. Racist bad. Full of hate. You bringing him up again…I just…I don’t want anyone to get hurt or upset. That’s all.”
“Trev, that’s sweet,” she said, taking my hand in hers. “I plan to reveal the rest of the story tomorrow, so don’t worry.”
Natalie was smart and sneaky. She made me forget about everything just by holding my hand. And to make sure I stayed distracted, she gave me a peck on the cheek before ducking into her classroom. It was quick, and no one else was around to see it, but, man, it did the trick. Gavin and Mr. Holmes were out of my mind until our next broadcast, when Natalie got in front of the camera and finally came clean.
“Friends, rather than share more of Robbie’s jokes again today, I’d like to share the rest of his story. It’s time.”
She paused to let that sink in. It was weird. I could almost feel the school growing quiet and getting serious.
“My friend Robbie’s full name is Robbie Holmes,” Natalie continued. “If his last name sounds familiar, that’s because his father is our former football coach. Mr. Holmes currently resides in prison because of an embezzling scheme that was uncovered here last year.
“It was never my intention to dig deeper into Mr. Holmes’s past, but after meeting Robbie, I felt torn because I really liked the boy. The more time I spent with him, the more I began to wonder about Mr. Holmes. How could the father of this wonderful little boy commit such a crime? Something felt amiss. I suspect some of you may be thinking and feeling the same things, and you’ve only just met Robbie, so imagine how strong those emotions were for me.
“Those of you who know me will attest to the fact that I have a hard time letting questions go when I don’t have the answers. Getting answers is what I do. In this case, that required meeting with Mr. Holmes. I won’t go into the details of how I managed to pull that off, but I did, and here’s what I learned.”
Natalie went on to explain Mr. Holmes’s complicated story. It sounded like something straight off one of our cards at Nature’s Learning Lab—Natalie even said so herself. This stuff was real.
“Let me be clear,” Natalie said. “I’m not asking you to help Mr. Holmes, but I am asking you to consider helping his family. To help Robbie, whom you’ve all grown to adore.
“Mr. Holmes’s story is a lesson for all of us, a reminder that life is not always fair. Perhaps our story can show something different. Sometimes in life people can get lucky. Sometimes in life, good people can make all the difference.
“I have already established a GoFundMe page for the Holmes family. Details are on your screen now. The money raised will be used to get Mrs. Holmes a medical checkup and to help address any health-related concerns. If possible, the Holmes family might be able to restart health insurance, w
hich would be the ultimate goal.
“How about it, Lake View Middle? Let’s see what we can do. I’m Natalie Kurtsman, asking, How big are your hearts? Have a razzle-dazzle day, Warriors.”
I can’t say I liked Mr. Holmes any better after listening to Natalie’s piece that morning, but I did ask Mom and Dad to donate to the GoFundMe page.
After getting the exciting news about the all-star game, I was outside throwing with my tire target every chance I got. Before and after school and first thing Saturday morning.
“I’d have you help me give the van an oil change,” Dad said, “but I guess you can do that next time. I know you’ve got this big game to get ready for.” He patted me on the back and walked around the side of the house to crawl under his plumbing van.
I kept throwing. My hands were ice cold and I couldn’t grip the ball good, but that was no excuse. Brett Favre became a legend because of his great play and the toughness he showed in braving the brutal cold at Lambeau Field. If I was going to be like him, I needed to start training now.
But it didn’t matter how many pep talks I gave myself. It wasn’t working. I got madder and madder with each throw I missed. I couldn’t manage a tight spiral, and I couldn’t hit the freakin’ target. And getting mad just got me thinking about Kurtsman and her Holmes stuff all over again, and that turned mad into angry. And then stupid Otis had to show up. Meggie had gone with Randi to some gymnastics clinic that Randi’s gym was hosting, so the dog was bored and had to bother me. He grabbed my football and tore around the yard.
“Gimme my ball,” I growled.
Otis shook his head, and slobber flung from his mouth. He got down low, shaking his rump high in the air. That stupid dog thought I was playing. He was dead wrong.
“Give it,” I ordered, raising my fist. That did it. Otis dropped the ball and shrank away from me. I’d never raised a fist to him before. It scared him—and me. I’d just threatened to hit him, but I would never hit him, no matter how mad I got. Realizing what I’d done made me feel even worse.
“I’m sorry, Otis. I’m just not in the mood for playing.” I grabbed my slobbery football and punted it over the house. “Get out of here,” I said. I wanted to be left alone.
Otis tore around the house after the ball. Nothing coulda stopped him. This was his favorite game.
A football bounces in unpredictable ways. It might go end over end, or it might take erratic sideways hops. It can go every which way. And Otis was a big dog. As big as a small horse. He was too big to stop on a dime, especially when charging after a football that was bouncing all over the place—even a football that bounced toward the van your dad was underneath.
Dad had the jack positioned where it was stable and safe, and the block of wood was behind the back tire to keep the van from rolling. Safety first. Always safety first. But that jack wasn’t built to withstand a crushing blow from the side.
The collision between dog and van sounded like a highlight reel hit from the NFL. Otis crunched the door when he ran into it. He hit with such force that he pushed the van sideways. He rammed it so hard, the jack that Dad had had holding the front end off the ground—the jack that had been positioned where it was safest so that nothing could go wrong—tipped and fell over. My entire world toppled in that moment.
Dad’s yell was a sound I’d never heard before. It echoed off the hills and pierced my heart. I tore around the house faster than Otis had run. “Dad!” I cried.
I slid on my knees and peered under the van. Dad was as white as a ghost. There were beads of sweat dotting his forehead, and blood was trickling down his cheek. The left front wheel was on top of his hip, pinning him to the ground and crushing him under all its weight. Dad was done yelling, but the low moans coming from him were even scarier.
I knew the “scared” you felt when you were afraid of getting in trouble. Or the kind that made you yell, like when you were on a roller coaster or spooked during a scary movie—the kind of scared you got to laugh about later. And I knew the scared that happened before a big game. But this kind of scared I’d only ever felt once before. This was the kind you felt when you were afraid you might lose one of the most important things in your life—forever.
I’d heard of people becoming superhuman in times like this, becoming stronger than any NFL lineman. I jumped to my feet and grabbed the front bumper. I lifted up on it with all the strength in my body. I tried. I willed myself to do it—but it was hopeless. I couldn’t get it to budge.
“Niño, the jack. Use the jack!” Mom screamed from the porch. She dropped the phone and came running. “We have to get it off him!”
I got down and found the jack. I slid it into position, where it was safe and stable like Dad had taught me. His breaths were shallow. My eyes blurred. I pumped on the handle, and the van rose into the air.
Mom slid underneath on her belly, and Otis army-crawled in next to her. He knew Dad was hurt. He nosed Dad’s shoulder and licked his arm. If dogs could talk, Otis was definitely saying “sorry.”
“It’s okay, Otis,” Mom said, petting him behind the ears. “He’s going to be all right.” Otis rested his big head on Dad’s chest, and I swear, me and Mom smiled for a second.
The sound of sirens rang in the distance. I listened to them growing louder and closer.
“The ambulance is on its way,” Mom said.
“Hang in there, Dad. Fight,” I urged.
We got back from the gymnastics clinic just in time to see Mr. Davids getting loaded into the back of an ambulance. There was an oxygen mask covering his face, and he looked as white as the sheets covering him.
Meggie jumped out of the car before Mom had even stopped. She ran into Gav’s arms, and he held her tight. “Daddy got hurt, Megs, but he’s going to be okay.”
My heart ached—for the intense love I was witnessing between big brother and little sister, for Mr. Davids and Mrs. Davids, and for Mom. I didn’t want to be upset with her anymore.
All at once Mrs. Davids broke away from her husband’s side and hurried into their house. Seconds later she came running back out with her purse.
“Mom, I’m coming, too,” Gav said.
Mrs. Davids stopped and gripped his shoulders. “Niño, you need to stay here with Meggie and Otis. I promise I’ll get you to the hospital as soon as I can.” Her voice cracked.
Gav bit his lip. I could feel how badly he wanted to go, but there was no time to fight.
Mrs. Davids bent and kissed Meggie on the forehead. “Everything’s going to be okay, mija.”
Meggie wrapped her arms tighter around Gav.
Mrs. Davids glanced at me next. “I’ll stay,” I said.
“Thank you, Randi.” She squeezed my arm, and then she ran and hopped into the back of the ambulance. They closed the doors behind her and sped away. Otis stood at the end of the driveway watching them until they disappeared.
“Randi,” Mom called from the car. “I’m going so that I can be there for Carla and give her a ride home when she’s ready.”
I wanted to run and hug her and tell her how sorry and scared and everything else I was. I wanted to tell her how much I loved her—but I only nodded.
Mom drove off, and the three of us plus Otis were left standing in the driveway. When you feel this kind of shock and confusion, you don’t do much talking. You kind of turn into a zombie. Gav and Meggie weren’t saying anything, and neither was I. We shuffled into the house and sat in the living room. The TV was on for noise, but that was it. Gav was in the chair, gripping his football, staring into space. Meggie cuddled with Otis on the floor. That was the first time I ever saw that dog not wagging his tail. I’d held it in as long as I could. I cried silently.
We stayed that way for hours, not talking and not moving. I didn’t know what to do. I thought back to what Mrs. Woods had told me. I tried to be the best friend I could. I made a pot of
mac-n-cheese around dinnertime even though none of us felt like eating. Even Otis skipped out on it. That tells you how sad he was. I cleaned up, and then I helped Meggie get into bed. Otis stayed with her, so I returned to the living room.
At some point later in the night, Gav and I finally drifted off to sleep. I woke with a crick in my neck when I heard Mom and Mrs. Davids talking in the kitchen. Gav sat forward in his chair. He was awake now, too. We made eye contact, but we didn’t start talking. Listening to what was happening in the kitchen was more important.
“What am I going to do?” Mrs. Davids asked. The desperation in her voice was loud and clear. “Michael’s already had one surgery, and the doctor said he’s likely going to need more. We can’t afford the ambulance ride, let alone surgeries.”
“Carla, insurance will cover all that. You don’t need to worry,” Mom said, trying to comfort her.
“Jane, Michael and I don’t have health insurance. We have the kids on it, but it cost too much for the two of us. I missed a lot of work with everything that happened last year, and we had to make some hard choices. We wanted to find something again. In case. But it’s not easy to read through all those forms. I was trying…”
She broke into sobs.
I looked over at Gav.
“My card at Nature’s Learning Lab said I became homeless after I was in an accident and couldn’t afford my medical bills. I didn’t have health insurance,” he said.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” I scoffed.
“Stop pretending, Randi. If that’s not destiny giving me a warning, I don’t know what is.”
“Fine. But that doesn’t mean it’s your destiny,” I said, trying to keep him positive.
“It will be if we don’t find the money.”
“Hey, maybe Natalie can do one of those GoFundMe pages for your family, like she did for the Holmeses.”
“That’s barely raised anything,” Gav said. “We’re gonna need way more than that.”
