Like everyone else?
Yep.
Even on the soccer field?
That’s different.
How?
I like soccer.
And you don’t like being smart?
I don’t like being forced to sound smart.
. . .
. . .
Tell me, how do you feel about your mother leaving?
I feel like I’m drowning.
What will it take for you to get above water?
I don’t know. It’s outta my control. She’s not coming back, and they’re getting divorced.
Can you swim?
Uh, yeah!
So if you feel like you’re drowning and you know how to swim, then maybe you can get above water.
That sounds crazy.
I guess it does.
. . .
How are things going in school?
School’s okay, but I’m tired a lot.
Are you getting sleep at night?
I was. Probably not now.
Why not?
’Cause I’ll be thinking about my mom.
How long has she been gone?
Three days, this time.
Have you spoken to her?
When she got to her, uh, new house, she called.
And since then.
Nope.
Maybe you should call or text her.
Yeah!
It’s hard for her, and for you. And as hard as it is, regular communication is what gets things back to normal.
Normal? Yeah, right.
Change is hard, Nicholas, for all of us. We figure out how to cope, how to adapt, and eventually things do get back to normal.
Yeah!
. . .
. . .
Talking about things is good. It can help you stay above water.
Oh, really?
Yes.
. . .
So, I’ll see you next week?
Tupac.
I’m sorry?
You asked who my favorite rapper was. It’s Tupac.
Keep your head up, Nicholas.
Yeah.
Regular Communication
Hey, Mom, I’m good, though my toe
nails have grown so long that my
hooves hurt bad. April says hi.
At Miss Quattlebaum’s
The girls line up
ear to ear
so you and the other boys
can greet them
with a proper hand kiss.
Gentlemen, backs are straight and stiff, Miss Fruit Tree says.
She passes
out gloves
to the girls,
so they
don’t have to
touch
our clammy hands, you guess.
You zoom down the line, and
when you get to April,
in her blue mini-dress,
you decide
to finally
wear cool:
Uh, April, I was wondering, if you, uh,
wanted to go to the eighth grade formal
with me?
Regular Communication
Hey, Mom, I’m good, though I’m a
little sick of Cheetos and
grape soda. April says hi.
After School, You Stop in to See The Mac
Hey, Nick,
did you know that
outside of a dog,
a book is a man’s best friend, and
inside of a dog,
it’s too dark to read? he says, laughing.
C’mon, you know that was funny.
It was corny, Mr. Mac.
Before you leave, grab your flash drive
out of lost and found.
Oh, snap! Been looking for that.
It’s got my outline on it.
You left it in the computer.
Dang, I sure did.
So, no soccer practice today? What’s up?
Yep, I’m on the way there now, but
I wanted to give you this.
What’s this?
A birthday gift.
For me? How’d you know it was my birthday?
Google.
You stalking me, Nick Hall!
You were a pretty good rapper, Mr. Mac.
Pretty good? I was dope.
You’re a cool librarian. There’s a surprise in the book.
Oh snap, you did another black out joint!
Yeah! Plus, I read the whole freakin’ book.
How was it?
It was sad, and crazy funny, and really good, and I think you’ll really like it.
Kid, you’re the real deal. This means a lot.
How much?
A whole lot.
So much that you’ll tell me what’s inside your dragonfly box?
You want a look inside Freedom?
Huh?
My dragonfly box. I call it Freedom.
You name everything, your car, your box—
Wanna know what I call my bowling ball?
Uh, no thanks.
Fine, go ahead, open the box.
Seriously?
Go for it.
COOL!
Wait, it’s locked.
Where’s the key, Mr. Mac?
Ya gotta have the key
Ya gotta have the key
Ya gotta have the key if ya wanna be free.
The Mac repeats this a few times, then
takes the box back.
Real funny! Hey, Mr. Mac, why are you
so into dragonflies?
Because they’re electric, Nick.
Like bolts of lightning,
they rocket into the day.
That’s how I wanna live. You?
Yeah, uh, I guess.
Well then, carry on.
I’ve got some work to finish.
You’ve got a clerk to diminish?
You know a jerk that’s Finnish?
You’re officially the malaprop king, Nick, he says.
Thanks again for the gift.
No problemo.
Playoffs
April comes over
to wish you luck
before your first game back.
Score one for me, she says.
You don’t.
You score
Two.
Text from Mom
Nicky, didn’t hear from you
this weekend. How was the game?
Your texts are funny. Miss ya!
Regular Communication
Hey, Mom, I’m good. Can’t talk, as
I’m in school, failing gravely.
Who cares about grades? We won!
Winnifred may be a gadfly*
but her slideshow tribute to
Ms. Hardwick is pretty swell
and it sends us all to sob town.
Waiting at the Bus Stop When a Police Car Pulls Up
Hey, Nick, we can take you home.
No thanks, we’re good, April.
Get in here, fellas, looks like it’s about to rain.
Uh, okay, Coby says, climbing into the back seat.
Dad, this is Nick, remember?
Oh, yeah, I remember, from the phone, right? He shoots you a look through the rearview mirror.
And this is his best friend, Coby.
Cool ride, Mr. Farrow.
Don’t get used to it, son.
No sir.
I understand you play soccer?
Yes sir, we do, you say.
Who’s better?
I am, sir, Coby says, all polite.
Nicholas, how is school?
It’s fine, sir.
Y’all stop calling me sir. Officer is fine!
DAAAADDDDD, stop!
April tells me you’re a wordsmith or something. You a wordsmith, Nicholas?
Uh, I guess . . . Officer.
Are you or aren’t you, son?
DAAAADDDDD, why are you interrogating him? Leave him alone.
I know a lot of wo
rds, if that’s what you’re asking.
He sure does, April brags. Nick, tell him about that word limerence.
Yeah, Nicholas, tell me about that word limerence, the one that my daughter has written on every notebook, plastered all over her door, and which she now wants to tattoo on the back of her neck. Tell. Me. About. That. Word.
DAAAAAAAAD, STOP IT!
This is so cool, Officer, Coby blurts out.
Uh, why is the siren on?
Thirty Minutes Later
My dad’s just trying to scare you.
Well, it worked.
You coming to Charlene’s pool party?
I don’t know.
Well, I think you should.
Okay, maybe.
Try again, Nicky.
Yeah, I guess.
Better. Text me later.
Okay. Thanks for the ride.
I can’t kiss you on the cheek, ’cause my dad is look—
GOODBYE, NICHOLAS, her dad screams from the car, then turns on the siren. Again.
Geesh, I gotta go, Nicky.
Uh, uh . . . Bye. Thanks.
I’ve been thinking
maybe you take
a break from
my dictionary, son.
The irony
of this
is colossal.
You laugh long
and loud like
a Guinea baboon
being tickled.
And so does he
when you say:
Well that’s just perfect, Dad, ’cause
I finished it
last night.
Really? Well, that’s great.
We should celebrate.
You hungry?
Very.
I’ll make dinner.
How about NO, Dad.
Let’s go out.
Great. I got
the perfect place.
No white tablecloths, Dad.
I was thinking
a sports restaurant.
Unlimited Hot Wings
and Soccer.
YEAH!
Conversation with Dad
Your dad
is always full
of words
to hurl at you,
but tonight,
for once,
he’s wordbound.*
So are you.
. . .
. . .
These wings are good.
Yeah.
. . .
. . .
Dad, can I ask you a question?
Of course.
Did you ever get into a fight at school?
Fights? No.
. . .
Not at . . . school.
. . .
There was this kid at church named Skinny who picked on me.
Really?
He sat behind me in Sunday school and would slap me on the neck. We’d be at the fountain, and he’d spit water on me. One time when it was raining, he even tripped me and I busted my lip. It was Easter and I was wearing a brand-new white suit.
Oh, snap! What did you do?
I ran to my mom, bleeding and crying.
Oh.
But my dad came over and dragged me to the bathroom.
What’d he do, fuss at you?
No, he cleaned me up, and asked me a question.
What?
What would you do if you weren’t afraid?
That’s what he asked you?
Yep, and I told him, Maybe fight him.
What’d he say?
“Bullies don’t like to fight, son. They like to win. Being afraid is normal. The only fight you really have to win is the one against the fear.”
What does that even mean?
And then he said, “You got this” and walked out.
What’d you do?
I cried some more, then went back outside, where all the kids were, and walked right up to Skinny, and said, “Hey, Skinny, I’m sick of your yobbery.*” And then I put up my dukes.
You, uh, put up your dukes, Dad?
Yeah, l was ready to fight, Nick! I dodged and weaved like Muhammad Ali. He looked a little confused, maybe even a little afraid. I charged him like a bull, knocked him to the ground.
That’s so cool, Dad. What happened next?
He got up and punched me in the eye. I had a black eye for two weeks.
Dang! Sorry, Dad.
Don’t be. Your granddad was right. Skinny stopped messing with me after that. I mean, he used to make jokes about me, but even that stopped after a while.
That really happen, Dad?
Sure did.
Should we get some more wings, Dad?
Should we knit some floor swings?
It’s gotta make sense, Dad.
Should we quit before Spring?
Well done, Dad.
Good, now let’s order more wings.
Hey, Mom
Dad’s at a conference. I’m
home alone. It’s house party
time! YEAH! Holla! Giddy-up!
Mom Calls Immediately
He’s just gone for the day. I’m fine, you tell her.
After she finishes worrying, you ask her
how to make Dutch pancakes,
but it sounds too complicated,
so you stick to
instant oatmeal.
After breakfast
and a quick game
of FIFA online
with Coby,
you shower,
grab your gear,
and head out
for the match
when you hear
Morning, Nick!
Blue Moon River
Standing outside
leaning against
a light blue convertible car
is The Mac.
Hey, Mr. Mac. What’s up?
You forgot this. Again, he says, handing
you your flash drive
with Hardwick’s almost finished
persuasive essay on it.
Thanks. You rock, Mr. Mac!
Maybe you need to wear it
around your neck.
That’s your new car?
Blue Moon River.
Huh?
It’s a 1972 Ford Mercury Brougham Montego drop-top.
Pretty zazzy!*
Interesting name for a car, though.
Nicholas, there’s only a hundred or so of these left.
Oh, I get it—it’s rare, like once in a blue moon.
Exactly! Me and Blue Moon River are searching for the rainbow’s end.
Uh . . . okay, but why River?
Nick, the river is always turning and bending. You never know where it’s going to go and where you’ll wind up.
Follow the bend.
That’s pretty deep, Mr. Mac.
Stay on your own path. Don’t let anyone deter you. Eartha Kitt said that.
Who’s Bertha Schmidt?
Nicholas, turns out Ms. Hardwick isn’t the only one leaving, he says.
What do you mean?
Langston Hughes will be looking for a new librarian, too.
You’re not coming back?
I’m not coming back.
Why?
Because the river turns, and there’s a lot of world to see.
Are you following Ms. Hardwick?
You’re a smart kid.
A new book for you,
he says, reaching
into the bag
on the ground next to him.
Thanks. Rhyme Schemer’s a dope title, Mr. Mac.
Is this your autobiography?
It’s not, but you’re gonna dig it.
The question is will it rip my heart out
and stomp on it?
I’m outta here, he says, jumping
into Blue Moon River.
Don’t forget your bag, you say,
picking it up to hand to him, but
right before he speeds off
The Mac
yells,
That’s yours too. Be cool, Nick.
Inside the Bag Is, Get This, FREEDOM
You unlock
The Mac’s dragonfly box
fully expecting
bursts
of electricity
to flitter
and flutter
like blue lightning
like souls
on fire.
What you see
is even better.
WHOA!
Sub
Coach finally puts you in.
It feels good to run toward
something, and not away . . .
After the Game
At Charlene’s pool party you
see Coby, April in a
pink swimsuit, and, uh, your bike.
Booked Page 10
