Then an opportunity came for Jamal to go to a summer basketball camp for a whole month. The camp gave him a scholarship, but that didn’t cover the whole fee. So Pop-Pop hired Jamal to do odd jobs at basketball practice—setup and cleanup, washing the uniforms, that kind of thing. And in return, Pop-Pop paid for his summer camp. When Jamal returned from camp, he had more confidence and more skills, and Pop-Pop moved him to a starting position on the rec league. Jamal continued to attend summer basketball camps—Pop-Pop paying for anything the scholarship didn’t cover—and ended up making the high school team and then going on to play on his college’s team.
ISA: Where is he now?
MRS. CASTLEMAN: He does something with technology at City College. He still comes in on Saturday mornings, after basketball practice.
ISA: He still plays basketball?
MRS. CASTLEMAN: He actually coaches at the YMCA, just like Pop-Pop. He’s there every Saturday.
The recording went quiet, and the Vanderbeekers reacted.
“Wait, what?” Jessie screeched.
“Jamal coaches now?” Oliver asked.
“How did we not know this story?” Hyacinth asked. “Papa must know him.”
“We need to meet this Jamal guy,” Laney said.
Isa smiled. “Mrs. Castleman gave me his number, and I called him after dinner. We’re going to meet him on the courts on One Thirty-Fifth Street and Fifth Avenue tomorrow morning.”
* * *
Laney lay in her bed, blinking in the darkness. She had a lot to think about. Even though it was late and Hyacinth and Franz were snoring and Tuxedo was a comforting presence next to her, Laney could not fall asleep.
She was staring at the bottom of the top bunk when the sound of footsteps below jolted her wide awake. The sound traveled across the living room and to the kitchen, and Laney held her breath. Maybe it was a robber! She squeezed into a tight ball, shut her eyes, and waited for Papa to wake up, startle the robber, and chase him from their home. Then she remembered that Papa was very far from the brownstone on 141st Street.
The footsteps continued, and she heard the door that led to the backyard open and close. Then complete silence. Laney opened her eyes and lifted her head. Hyacinth, Franz, and Tuxedo were fast asleep. Who was downstairs? If it was a robber, Laney needed to know. Maybe he had stolen something important, and it was up to her to save the day!
Laney got out of her bed, picked up a very sleepy Tuxedo and put her on her shoulders, then opened her door quietly. She passed the advertisement of her dream bike that she had taped to her door—the bike was red with sparkly silver streamers coming out of the handlebars and a wicker basket attached to the front—and she stood at the top of the stairs. Nothing seemed to be out of place. She stepped down into the kitchen and looked around. Mama and Aunt Penny were still sleeping peacefully, even with a burglar in the brownstone!
A movement in the yard caught Laney’s eye through the kitchen window. She made her way to the window and peered out into the darkness. There was Grandpa, standing outside on the grass. He didn’t have any shoes on, and he was doing strange movements with slow steps back and forth, his arms circling around his body like bird wings might look in slow motion. She hadn’t known he could move like that, and she couldn’t stop watching him.
When he came in some time later, she ducked behind the kitchen island so he wouldn’t spot her. He stepped back into the brownstone, closed and locked the door behind him, then went across the kitchen and living room and up the stairs.
It was only when she heard his footsteps disappear into Mama and Papa’s room that Laney emerged from her hiding spot. Tuxedo jumped to the ground and weaved herself around her ankles, purring. She opened the jar of cat treats they kept on the counter and fed one to her, and George Washington mysteriously appeared at the kitchen island, lured by the sound of food. She fed one to George Washington, and after he ate it he walked back around the corner and vanished.
“Time for bed,” Laney whispered to Tuxedo.
As she went up the stairs, she found herself desperately missing her father. She sent a prayer up into the night that he was safe in Indiana. The brownstone felt empty and lonely without his big laugh and big smile. It didn’t matter that there were even more people in their apartment now. No one could replace Papa. The brownstone stairs creaked as she went upstairs and made her way back to bed.
Tuesday, August 5
Four Days Until Papa’s Birthday
Twelve
The sun was just rising when Hyacinth woke up at six o’clock. She peeked over the side of the top bunk to see what Franz was doing. He was on his back, sound asleep, his tongue hanging from the side of his mouth. She went down the ladder, then leaned over and gently stroked his forehead until he woke up. He rolled to his feet and took his time stretching before standing up and giving a great big yawn.
A clink of dishes made Hyacinth pause. It was odd for someone to be awake already. Usually it was just her and maybe Papa. And if it was Papa, he would be sitting with a book on the couch and drinking coffee, not messing around in the kitchen.
Unfortunately, Franz, hoping for an early breakfast, bounded toward the kitchen before she could grab his collar. She scrambled downstairs behind him but was too late. He had trotted right up to Grandma and shoved his cold nose into her leg.
Grandma startled and dropped the spoon she was drying.
“Sorry,” Hyacinth said in a whisper, not wanting to wake Mama and Aunt Penny, who were still sleeping in the living room. She grabbed Franz’s collar before he drooled all over Grandma.
Grandma didn’t reply; she just continued doing her thing in the kitchen, occasionally looking uneasily at Franz. She poured some leaves into a delicate green and white teapot that Hyacinth had never seen before. Hyacinth was surprised that her grandma traveled with her own teapot.
“I like your teapot,” Hyacinth said.
“It’s your mother’s teapot,” Grandma said. “I gave it to her as a wedding present.”
“Really?” Hyacinth said. “I’ve never seen it before.”
“I found it in there,” Grandma said, pointing to the cupboard by the door to the backyard.
That was the cupboard where Mama stored things she didn’t use very often, like the waffle iron and the Christmas platter that only came out in December, and things she didn’t really want but felt bad throwing out, like the huge oven mitts shaped like bear paws that Mr. Jones had given her for her fortieth birthday.
“Tea?” Grandma asked.
“No, thanks,” Hyacinth said. “I’ve got to take Franz out.”
Grandma glanced quickly at Hyacinth but didn’t reply, and a moment later she was busy again with her tea making. Hyacinth grabbed Papa’s light jacket off the hook, picked up the scraps bucket, and accompanied Franz into the backyard. The grass was damp and soggy from the previous day’s rain. She unlatched the chicken coop, and the chickens scrambled all over one another to get out.
Hyacinth poured the scraps on the ground in front of their coop, then put the bucket by the back door. She sat on the side of the porch while Franz snuffled around. She didn’t want to go back inside and face Grandma, so she stayed outside. She watched as the sky grew lighter and the sun cast a golden glow on the brownstones and the chickens wandered happily after Franz. Her thoughts drifted to the teapot, and she wondered if Grandma was bothered by the fact that Mama didn’t use it. It looked like a really nice teapot.
Her peace was interrupted when Oliver emerged, the screen door banging when he came out.
He took a seat next to Hyacinth.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi,” she replied. “You’re up early.”
“Grandma’s phone went off, and the ringer was so loud that it woke everyone up.”
Hyacinth nodded.
“Jimmy L and his mom are out of town,” Oliver observed. “Maybe we could move into their apartment until our grandparents leave.”
“I like his place,” Hyacinth
said. “I like all the nesting dolls in the living room.” Ms. Lim had a collection of 145 nesting dolls from all over the world.
“I wonder why Grandma and Grandpa are even here,” Oliver said. “Don’t you think it’s strange that they came out of the blue?’
Hyacinth nodded, because she did find it odd. But she also found herself wondering about that teapot and the look Grandma gave her when she’d declined the offer of tea. It reminded her of the look she had seen on her friend’s face last year when she said she was moving away—sad but resigned.
“We better get going,” Oliver said, looking at his watch. “We’re supposed to meet Jamal in an hour.” Hyacinth whistled for Franz and smiled as he galloped toward her, his ears flapping in the wind and his tongue hanging out. He crashed into her knees, and Hyacinth couldn’t help but laugh as she wrapped her arms around her dear friend, absorbing his comfort before they headed into the brownstone.
* * *
When Oliver and Hyacinth came back, everyone was gathered in the kitchen and dining room. Mama was at the stove making breakfast; Aunt Penny was sitting on a stool by the kitchen island, a cup of coffee cradled in her hands; Grandpa was fixing the broken staircase spindle; and Laney was practicing her bike riding around the living and dining areas.
Aunt Penny yawned and shifted her legs so Laney could bike by. “This time change is brutal.”
“What time is it in California?” Oliver asked.
“Five in the morning.”
“That’s Hyacinth’s usual wake-up time,” Oliver commented.
“I usually wake up at six,” Hyacinth corrected her brother.
“It’s so early,” Oliver said. “It’s inhuman.”
“I admire people who can wake up early,” Aunt Penny said. “I think there was a study done about how people who wake up early are more productive.”
“Really?” Jessie asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “What study was that?”
“Hyacinth is the most productive person I know,” Oliver said. “Last week, I woke up on a Saturday and Hyacinth had already baked dog biscuits, mended a shirt I tore during a basketball game, and knitted a hat.”
Aunt Penny’s eyebrows rose. “That’s impressive.” Then she took another sip of coffee.
Grandma was sitting at the dining room table, waiting for breakfast while also trying to avoid getting bumped into by Laney on her bike.
“We usually eat breakfast at six thirty,” Grandma said.
Oliver glanced at the clock that hung on the wall in the kitchen. It was eight o’clock.
“This is actually early for us,” Oliver said. “We don’t eat breakfast at six thirty unless it’s a school day.”
Grandma looked as if she wanted to reply to that, but Mama came by with a tub of yogurt and homemade granola with honeyed oats, nuts, and dried cherries.
“Breakfast is ready!” she said as Isa brought a stack of bowls to the table and Jessie set down a mug filled with spoons.
“What is this?” Grandma asked, pointing to the dishes Mama had just put on the table.
“Granola! My favorite!” Laney said, pushing Oliver’s hand away so she could get at the granola before he did.
“I love this stuff,” Jessie said, grabbing another serving spoon so she didn’t have to wait for everyone else to serve themselves.
The Vanderbeeker kids, knowing that it would soon be time to meet Jamal, scarfed down their breakfast while Aunt Penny shook her head with amusement.
“I don’t know how you keep up with so many hungry kids,” Aunt Penny said.
“They’re usually not so wolflike in their eating,” Mama said, observing them.
“Growth spurts?” Aunt Penny inquired.
“They’re always in a growth spurt.”
“Jessie is, at least,” Oliver said around a mouthful of granola. “She’s a giant.”
“Unkind, Oliver,” Isa remarked, throwing a balled-up napkin at him. He ducked, and it missed him and bonked Franz’s nose on the way down. Franz gobbled up the napkin before anyone could get it.
“Good one, Isa,” Oliver said. “Now he’s going to throw up.”
Grandma looked at them for a long moment. Then she poured another cup of tea for herself. Neither she nor Grandpa made a move to get something to eat.
Done inhaling their breakfast, the Vanderbeeker kids rinsed their dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher.
“We’ve got to meet someone at the basketball courts,” Jessie said.
Mama peered at her children. “All of you?”
“All of us,” Oliver said. “I’m going to, uh, show everyone my moves.”
That wasn’t technically a lie. He did plan on playing a little basketball, as long as they were there.
“We’ll be back in an hour,” Isa told Aunt Penny. “You can think about what you want to do today.”
“Can I come with you?” Aunt Penny asked. “I want to see Oliver’s sweet basketball moves.”
“Well . . .” Isa said slowly. “It’s probably going to be boring.”
Even though he knew they weren’t sharing their plans about Pop-Pop and the letter with anyone, Oliver’s pride was too fragile to let that comment pass. “I wouldn’t say it’s boring. I mean, I think I’m a pretty exciting basketball player—”
“I’m just saying you might want to rest,” Isa interrupted. “Enjoy your coffee. Take a nap.”
“Actually,” Aunt Penny said, “a walk would wake me up.”
Oliver sighed. They couldn’t say no, right?
Thirteen
The Vanderbeekers plus Aunt Penny headed to the basketball court around eight forty-five. They were supposed to meet Jamal at nine. Laney insisted on riding her bike, even though it made Isa nervous and she constantly had to shout for Laney to slow down or watch out.
There were only two people at the court. One person was in a wheelchair shooting baskets from the free throw line and sinking every ball. The other person was standing under the backboard, retrieving the balls and throwing them back.
Oliver gaped. “That guy has not missed one basket!”
Laney walked right up to the guy shooting baskets. “Are you Jamal?”
He smiled at her and turned his wheelchair to face her. “I am. Are you the Vanderbeekers?”
“We are!” Laney said. “Plus Aunt Penny. She’s a Chung, though, not a Vanderbeeker.”
“Hello to the Vanderbeekers and one Chung,” Jamal said. “It’s good to meet you all.”
“Hello!” Aunt Penny said, stepping close to shake Jamal’s hand. She then noticed a coffee cart across the street. “Ooh, coffee. Does anyone else want coffee?” She looked at Jamal and raised her eyebrows.
“I’m good,” he said.
“Okay, I’ll be right back.”
The guy who had been under the basket walked over.
“And this is my son, David,” Jamal added. “He’s starting college this fall.”
“And all Dad wants to do is play basketball until I leave,” David said, punching his dad lightly on the arm. He looked at Oliver and Laney curiously. “Your skin is speckled with red and green.”
Oliver held his hands up sheepishly. “Food coloring experiment.”
After the Vanderbeekers introduced themselves, David joined a pickup game with a few guys who entered the court while Jamal and the Vanderbeekers headed toward the wide concrete steps that served as bleachers. Jamal rolled to a stop in front of them.
“It’s amazing to meet Pop-Pop’s grandchildren,” Jamal said. “I can’t believe I haven’t met you before.”
“We’re so glad to meet you,” Isa said. Then she explained how none of them had ever met Pop-Pop and were trying to learn more about him.
“Pop-Pop was like a father to me,” Jamal told them. “He changed my life.”
“Mrs. Castleman told us that he asked you to join the YMCA league and you got really good and went on to play in high school and college,” Isa said.
“I want to play colle
ge basketball,” Oliver said. “My coach lets me and my friends work out with his high school team in the mornings, even though I’m only in middle school.”
“You must be really good,” Jamal said.
“I’m working on it,” Oliver said. “Were you in a wheelchair back when you knew our grandfather?”
Jamal nodded. “Yes, but it was after I had known him for many years. I was in college and our basketball team was traveling to an away game. Our van was sideswiped by a tractor trailer.”
“That’s terrible,” Hyacinth said.
“It was terrible,” Jamal agreed. “It was my junior year in college and we were having a great season. The crash changed everything. I spent two months in the hospital, but Pop-Pop visited every day. When I was finally discharged, I didn’t want to leave my apartment. My mom was working three jobs to keep us afloat, so I was alone all the time. Pop-Pop, though, he stopped by every day after work before he picked your dad up from school. And then, a few months after the accident, he started coming by on Saturday mornings. And one Saturday, without any warning, he picked me up and carried me down the three flights of stairs while your dad hauled my wheelchair down the building stairs.”
“Pop-Pop must have been really strong!” Jessie said.
“He was,” Jamal said with a grin. “Although we always made fun of him for being old.”
Jamal continued to share how Pop-Pop took him to the courts and how much he hated it. He would sit in his wheelchair and pretend he was somewhere else. After three months, one Saturday Pop-Pop looked at him and passed the ball. Jamal caught it without thinking and took a shot. Even though he had missed by a mile, Pop-Pop threw the ball back to him. He kept on missing, but eventually started making some baskets. Then, after a year of physical therapy, Jamal joined a recreational wheelchair basketball team, then an amateur basketball team, and amazingly was even an alternate on the USA Paralympic wheelchair basketball team a few years later.
“That’s incredible,” Isa said.
The Vanderbeekers Make a Wish Page 8
