by Jeff Rud
“You’re not bothering me, Lukas. It’s just...Well, I’m into other stuff now.”
“Okay, see you around.”
“See you.” I hung up the phone, feeling really awful but not quite understanding why. Why should I feel bad? It’s not as if Lukas and I hung out anymore.
At supper, Mom asked who had called.
“Just Lukas,” I replied.
“Lukas Connor?” she said, surprise in her voice. “That’s great, Kyle. You two haven’t hung out for a while. He’s such a nice boy.”
“We’re not hanging out now,” I said sharply. “He just phoned me, that’s all.”
Mom didn’t bring up the subject again. Dinner was pretty quiet since Dad was working late at the newspaper. It was nearing election time. My father was a reporter for the Bulletin. He always had to put in extra hours whenever elections rolled around.
I went to bed that night feeling guilty. Guilty for being late to practice. Guilty for disappointing Lukas. Guilty for getting irritated with Mom.
Now that I had time to think about it, something about Lukas asking me to be in the drama production really bothered me. Why did Lukas want me to be in the show? Why was he trying to be all buddy-buddy now, after years of not hanging around together? Lukas was all right. But he wasn’t like the rest of my friends. He was shy. He didn’t like sports. He was a little on the feminine side. He didn’t really fit into my crowd. I drifted off to sleep, still wondering what it was about the conversation with Lukas that had bothered me so much.
The next morning, I got up as soon as my alarm sounded. I was on my way to school a good fifteen minutes earlier than the previous day. As I hustled up Albion, I noticed Lukas about two blocks ahead. “Hey, Luke,” I called. He looked back and waved, but he didn’t wait for me.
This time, when I arrived in the locker room only about half the team was there. I dressed quickly, pulling on my basketball shoes and taking the court. It was raining, so we were doing laps in the gym. “Nice to see you ladies all here on time,” Coach Williams said sarcastically. He seemed to stare at me for an extra second.
He put us through a tough one-hour practice. Everybody was huffing and bending over when he called us to the center of the court for his final words. “All right, boys,” Coach said. “As you know, we only have a few practices before the season begins.
“Before we get into our schedule, I wanted to say a few words about expectations. When I say that, I mean my expectations of you, but more than that. I also mean your expectations of yourselves.
“Boys, we have the potential to be a very good team this year. Maybe even a regional championship team. How far we go depends on how hard you are all willing to work and whether you are willing to make basketball your number one priority outside of school. Is everybody willing to do that?”
Heads nodded all around. I thought about what the coach was saying. Was basketball my number one priority? Well, it was right up there, for sure. But was it higher than my friends and family? Was it higher than Jenna?
Coach was right. Next week was special for all of us. It marked the beginning of our basketball schedule. But it was doubly special for me because it marked the return of Jenna McBride. Jenna and I had seen a lot of each other the previous year, but she and her family had spent the last six months in London. Her father was on an exchange with another college professor from England. The McBrides were coming home this weekend. I couldn’t wait to see Jenna. I was hoping she still felt the same way about me after six months apart.
So, yes, basketball was important. But as far as I was concerned it shared top billing with a few other things. I thought it best not to argue with Coach. I had the feeling he wouldn’t understand.
chapter four
I waited until Saturday night to call the McBrides’ house. I was dying to see Jenna again. We had exchanged e-mails regularly while she was in England. Even so, I was worried that maybe I’d forgotten what she looked like. Or even worse, that she’d forgotten me. Still, I didn’t want to seem too desperate.
All I got, though, was the same message that had been on their phone all summer. (I had phoned it a few times just to hear Jenna’s voice.) This time, I left a message for Jenna.
Two hours later, the phone rang. “Kyle? Hi!” The voice on the other end was like an ice-cold drink on a blistering hot day. Jenna didn’t sound any different after her six months away. I hoped she didn’t feel any different, either.
“Hi!” I replied. “When did you guys get back? I mean, it’s good to hear from you.”
“We just got in. Can you come over? I can’t wait to see you.”
It was such a big relief to hear that Jenna felt the same way I did. “I can come right now,” I blurted. “I’ll be there in five.”
My heart pounded as I grabbed my gray hoodie—the one that Jenna always said looked good on me. I stopped in the bathroom to give my hair a brush, even though I knew it would get messed up again when I put on my bike helmet. Why was I so nervous? I had known Jenna for ten years. It wasn’t like we hadn’t been apart before. But somehow this was different.
I jumped on my mountain bike and pedaled the eight blocks down Albion to Stockport and then up Vera Cruz. I had probably ridden this route a thousand times but never quite this quickly. As I pulled into the McBrides’ driveway, Dr. McBride was unloading suitcases from the car. “Hey, Kyle,” he said, beaming. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too,” I said. “Did you have a good time in London?”
“It was great—a real life-changing experience. But I think somebody in there missed you quite a bit.” He jerked his head toward the house. “Go on in. She’s expecting you.”
My heart nearly burst through my hoodie as I took the front steps by twos. The door was open, so I just went in. “Jenna?” I called.
“I’m in here!” came a familiar voice from the kitchen. I rounded the corner and took my first look at Jenna in a long time. She jumped out of her chair and rushed around the table, throwing both arms around me in a huge hug. I squeezed back. It was good to feel her so close. It was only then that I realized just how much I had missed her.
Jenna stepped back from me. She hadn’t changed much. Her auburn hair had been cut fashionably short. She was a bit taller too. But her face was the same—delicate and heart-shaped. Her broad smile and bright blue eyes illuminated the kitchen.
“It’s great to see you,” I said, feeling awkward once again.
“You too,” she said. I wished I could hold onto this moment—and Jenna—forever.
We quickly started catching up. Jenna had obviously had a fantastic time in London. I felt small pangs of jealousy as she talked about her new English friends and how she’d traveled in Europe with her parents. She’d even seen a few shows in London’s theater district. “You wouldn’t believe how good the shows are,” she said, her eyes opening wide. “I can’t wait to tell Lukas. London would be his dream come true.”
Jenna, Lukas and I had been best friends throughout elementary school. Even though Lukas and I had drifted apart, he and Jenna had remained close. They shared a love of the theater and had taken some summer acting courses together.
“I talked to Luke this week,” I told her. “He’s trying out for Oliver!”
“I love that show,” she said. “Luke should get a part, no problem.”
“No doubt,” I replied. “They’re so desperate for guys, he even asked me to try out.”
“And?”
“And what?” I said.
“Are you going to do it?”
“No. I’m pretty busy with basketball. I’m just not into theater the way he is.”
“Oh, come on, you’d be great,” Jenna insisted. “You should think about it at least.”
What seemed like only a couple of minutes later, Dr. McBride tapped on the door of the kitchen and then stepped inside. “Hey, I know you two haven’t seen each other for a while. But it’s nearly eleven, and we’ve all got a bit of jet lag.”
> I couldn’t believe it. Jenna and I had been in the kitchen for nearly two hours, just talking. “I’d better get going,” I said, taking the hint. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Hanging out with you, I hope,” Jenna said, giving me a sweet smile.
We walked to the McBrides’ front door and stepped outside. Jenna turned and faced me. We leaned together and shared the first kiss we’d had in half a year. “I missed you so much,” she said softly.
“Me too.”
I felt like I could have flown home that night. Everything in my world seemed to be better now that Jenna was back.
When I got to the McBrides’ house the next morning, her mom answered the door. “Hello, Kyle. It’s nice to see you again.” She smiled warmly. “Jenna’s in the backyard.”
I walked around the side of the house and through the white wooden gate. Jenna didn’t hear me coming. She was standing near the green picnic table and singing to a completely empty lawn. “‘As long as he needs me...,’” she sang. Her voice was terrific.
After listening to her for a few seconds, I cleared my throat. Jenna spun around and grinned. “How long have you been there?” she said. “I’ve been practicing.”
“For Oliver!” I replied. “I recognize the tune. The bad guy’s girlfriend sings it, right?” Jenna would be perfect for the part of Nancy.
She nodded. “I called Ms. Lawson at home this morning and asked her if I could get a late audition,” Jenna explained. “She’s going to try me out for Nancy on Monday. So I’ve got some work to do.”
“You’ll be great,” I said. I meant it.
“I’ve been thinking about what you told me last night,” Jenna said. “You should try out for Oliver! too. It would be awesome for you and Luke and me to be in a show.”
“Not interested,” I said. “I’ve got basketball. It’s pretty hard-core this year.”
“But you guys practice mostly in the morning. The rehearsals are all after school. You could do both. And you’d be really good at it.”
“I don’t know,” I said doubtfully.
“Okay, how about this?” Jenna said. “Just audition. See what happens. It doesn’t mean you have to take the part if you get one. What could it hurt?”
Somehow, Jenna was much more convincing than Lukas had been. And besides, if I did get into the show, there was now an obvious fringe benefit: Jenna and I could spend a lot of time together.
“All right,” I said, throwing up my hands in mock surrender. “I give up. I’ll audition.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon going over Jenna’s lines for the character Nancy. In most of the scenes, I had to play either Fagin or her boyfriend, Bill Sykes. I was only reading the lines off a script that Jenna had borrowed from Lukas, but it felt good to work at something other than sports or school.
chapter five
“You’re what?” Sammy said incredulously. “Dude, tell me you’re kidding, right?”
I shook my head. “No, I’m trying out,” I said matter-of-factly. “What’s the big deal? I probably won’t have a sniff at a part.”
“So, why even try out then?” Sammy asked. “You’re not all of a sudden interested in the fine arts are you?”
As he spoke, Sammy arched his arms above his head and bent his bony knees into a plié.
“Give it a rest,” I said. “Look, there’s a good reason I’m doing this. Jenna’s back and she’s probably in the show, and...”
“Ahhhh,” Sammy said. “Now I get it. I knew there had to be more to it.”
I decided to let the subject drop. I didn’t want to tell Sammy that I actually enjoyed the theater. I didn’t need any extra grief. Coach Williams had been on my butt last week about being late. I was nervous about practice this week. The season was tipping off Friday with a home game against Davidson, our arch rivals.
Coach had only kept me on the second string for one practice, during which Sammy had pretty much played me back onto the starting five by screwing up nearly every play in our offense. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect he’d been tanking on purpose in order to get me back on the first unit. But Sammy would never do that. He wanted badly to be first string, maybe too badly. That desire had made him nervous around Coach. There had been several instances when Sammy ran one play while the rest of the team ran another.
Still, I was relieved when coach put our first-team offense on the floor against the second-team defense. I was back in my usual small-forward slot. I was proud of being a starter in my eleventh-grade year. I was determined to keep that spot even if it meant setting my alarm an hour earlier every day.
“We’re going to focus on our four-set today,” Coach barked as we prepared to go through our halfcourt offense. “Unless we get a big surprise from Davidson, I expect to run this set all game on Friday. So let’s make sure we know it cold.”
Everybody nodded in agreement, including me, but inside I was disappointed. The four-set was the name for a series of plays which featured Ben Stillman, our power forward or “four” player. That meant Coach was planning to go heavily with Stillman against Davidson—again. No wonder people referred to Stillman as our meal ticket.
For the next half hour, we ran plays through Stillman. Stillman posting up. Stillman going backdoor for a lob. Stillman coming off a screen for a jumpshot. That last one was difficult for me to swallow. Stillman’s jumper was likely the worst on the team, but the coach always called his number far more often than mine.
“Okay, let’s work on the three-set,” Coach declared. Finally, I thought. I’m going to get a few more touches here.
We ran the three-set with me shooting the ball for all of five minutes. I hit every shot I took. I wondered if Coach even noticed. He seemed far more preoccupied with Sammy’s defense than with anything I was doing.
That was pretty much it for practice. We had only an hour and it usually went by quickly. On our way into the locker room, Ben Stillman was right behind me. “Get set to watch me shoot a whole lot this week,” he said quietly in my ear. “Coach likes to call my number. It’s going to be that way all year.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, even from Stillman. Maybe he was right. Maybe Coach would be calling his number a lot this year. But why tell me about it? If you looked up the definition of jerk in the dictionary, Stillman’s picture would be there.
“We’ll see, Stillman,” I replied. “He won’t keep calling if you keep missing.”
Anger flashed across Stillman’s broad face. His dark eyes were fiery. “I’ll get more shots in every game than you get in any practice, Evans,” he said. “Coach knows who the stud on this team is.”
I shook my head and looked at Ben. Did this guy actually believe the things he said? “Whatever, man,” I replied tersely. “What’s it like being the president of your own fan club, anyway?”
Stillman swore at me under his breath. I headed for my locker, half expecting him to come after me. For some reason he didn’t. Instead he turned and headed to his locker stall in between Kurt Flatley’s and Joey Armstrong’s. Kurt and Joey were a pair of second-stringers who always had his back.
I saw Jenna in the cafeteria at lunch. Between spoonfuls of vegetable beef soup, she reminded me that the final tryout session for Oliver! was this afternoon. Ms. Lawson had agreed to hold an extra session for Jenna and anybody else who wanted to audition.
“Nervous?” Jenna asked playfully.
“Nah, it’s no big deal,” I lied. Inside, I was already feeling butterflies. I hadn’t performed in front of anybody since fifth grade. Even then it was only Jenna and Luke and our parents. This afternoon, I would have to read lines for Ms. Lawson, the parents who were on the selection jury and the other cast members. Sure I was nervous.
“I’ve got to go see Mr. Riley before lunch is over,” Jenna said. “He’s got a ton of math for me to catch up on. He’s making me do all the work I missed when I was away.”
“Are you serious?” I said. I hated math. Not only was it
dull, it was also difficult. I couldn’t imagine doing more than I already did.
“See you at four in the theater.” Jenna smiled.
I waved as she got up and headed for the cafeteria door. What had I got myself into? I didn’t even know what part I was trying out for.
Then again, who was I kidding? What did it matter? I wasn’t going to get a part, anyway. I would go, deliver a few lines, and they’d hook me off the stage. Case closed.
Even so, I spent a good portion of my geography and Spanish classes that afternoon stewing about the auditions. My legs felt weak and my throat was dry as I walked down the hallway toward the theater after my final class of the day.
There were only half a dozen kids in the mostly empty theater. Ms. Lawson and two parent-jurors, neither of whom I recognized, sat in the front row. I could hit free throws in front of hundreds of people on the basketball court, but I felt myself growing nervous in front of just a handful of people in the little theater. Was it too late to run?
“Kyle, this is a surprise,” Ms. Lawson exclaimed. “Lukas told me he asked you to try out, but I thought you didn’t want to.”
“It’s kind of a surprise to me too,” I said, eyeing Jenna. She smiled at me from behind Ms. Lawson and mouthed the words You’ll be fine.
Jenna was first up, and she was awesome. She ran through her lines in a scene with Luke, who was playing Fagin. Her English accent was perfect, something she had obviously learned during her time in London. And her acting, as she pleaded with Fagin to spare Oliver from a life of crime, was extremely realistic. I was impressed.
“Okay, Jenna, that was very nice,” said Ms. Lawson. “Now, I’d like to hear you sing.”
Sing? What did Ms. Lawson mean? Surely you didn’t have to sing as part of the audition. I hadn’t bargained on this.
To make matters worse, Jenna was near perfect as she sang “As Long as He Needs Me.” She absolutely nailed it. And even though she was supposed to be impartial, Ms. Lawson stood up and clapped when Jenna was done. “That was wonderful,” she cried. “Great to have you back, Jen!”
