Whippersnapper

by Felice Arena

  ‘Mum said there’s a gathering at his house,’ I exclaim. ‘We’ve got to be there to pass on our condolences to Mrs Anderson.’

  ‘Okay but we haven’t even met her before. What are we going to say?’

  ‘Um, that we’re sorry … that he was the best coach ever and that we’re going to miss him. I don’t know exactly, but something like that. I haven’t really done this before.’

  ‘It’s true. I’ve never even been to a funeral. Two of my grandparents died before I was born, and the other two haven’t even retired yet.

  ‘I wonder who’s going to coach us now,’ says Charlie, struggling to keep up with Bobby and me. ‘Talk about rotten timing.’

  ‘HEY, LOSERS!’

  Oh, great. Who ordered yesterday’s replay?

  It’s Corey Barnes and his dead-ugly mates – again! They’re also on bikes, about a hundred metres away from us.

  ‘What do they want?’ asks Bobby.

  ‘They want me,’ I say.

  ‘Why?’ asks Charlie.

  ‘Let’s just say that I’m not their favourite person right now. Can we get out of here?’

  ‘No! Let’s take ’em on,’ suggests Bobby, kicking into tough big-brother mode. ‘Three on three!’

  I sigh. Sometimes I think Bobby has more courage than brains. Can’t he see that Corey and his meatheads totally blitz us in weight and muscle proportions?

  ‘How’s it gonna look when we show up at Mrs Anderson’s place covered in blood and bruises?’ I ask. ‘Let’s skip the stand-off and just outride them.’

  Charlie is nodding in agreement and Bobby reluctantly agrees. So we click into higher gears and take off.

  Bobby and Charlie whiz ahead of me, pedaling as if they’re breaking away in the Tour de France.

  ‘They’re gaining on us!’ gasps Charlie, dropping back beside me.

  ‘Let’s cut through the park!’ I shout, turning a sharp right.

  Charlie and Bobby follow. I’m out of my seat. I crunch down on the pedals. Faster and faster. I suck air in super-short bursts. There’s no way they’re going to catch me. I’m a machine. I’m invincible. I’m flying. I’m –

  ‘GUS!’

  I hear a desperate cry in the wind. I look over my shoulder.

  My friends have crashed – their bikes and limbs tangled in one big heap.

  And Corey and his mates have caught up with them.

  Great! I turn around and pedal back towards them.

  ‘Good for you, Delfino!’ Corey says accusingly. ‘What sort of loser bails out on his buddies? Not very loyal, if you ask me.’

  Bail out? I’m here, aren’t I? I want to snap back, but I don‘t. I’m in enough trouble as it is.

  I hop off my bike and help Charlie to his feet. His right knee is bloody. ‘You okay? What happened?’

  ‘I clipped Bobby’s wheel,’ he mumbles, trying to stop the bleeding with his sleeve. ‘And we both lost balance, so we went flying.’

  I glance over to Corey. He and his friends are helping Bobby up.

  What parallel universe is this? What’s Corey up to now? Why haven’t he and his goons come out swinging? Where’s the sudden attack?

  ‘I hope your buddy here is gonna be okay,’ says Corey, sounding all innocent. ‘Don’t know why you took off like that. It wasn’t as if we were going to do anything to you.’

  Yeah, right. Who does he think he’s kidding?

  ‘You okay?’ I ask Bobby, noticing his grazed elbow.

  ‘Yeah. I think so,’ he grimaces. ‘Hurts like hell, though.’

  I take a closer look at Bobby’s arm and wonder if I’m to blame for all of this. This wasn’t my fault, was it? Sure, Corey tried to shove his fist in my face yesterday. But he seems almost nice today. Maybe I’ve overreacted, read the whole thing the wrong way …

  ‘GUS!’ Charlie shouts. ‘They’re stealing your bike!’

  I friggin’ knew it!

  I chase after Corey and his friends. But it’s no use. They’ve got too much of a head start. They ride off with my bike between them, howling and laughing their heads off.

  CHAPTER

  05

  My friends and I turn into the street where Mr Anderson lives, well, used to live. Luckily it’s only a block from the park. Bobby and Charlie roll their bikes alongside of me as I walk.

  ‘It’s gonna be a long walk back for Gus,’ says Charlie. ‘You think Corey will pull his bike apart and sell the parts?’

  ‘No way. He knows that Gus would report him to the police,’ says Bobby. ‘He’ll probably just dump it somewhere so it takes ages to find.’

  My friends shoot the breeze as if I’m not there. I cough. Loudly.

  ‘Um, hello? I’m right here. You’re not making me feel any better,’ I say, shaking my head.

  We eventually reach Mr Anderson’s house. Our teammates Will, Dwayne, Ryan and Elliot are waiting for us on the front lawn.

  ‘Yes, can I help you?’

  An old man greets us at the door. His eyes are bloodshot. His face is pale and sad. My friends push me forward. I guess I’m the spokesperson. Fair enough. This was all my idea.

  ‘Um, we’re here to pay our respects. Mr Anderson is our … I mean, was our coach.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ says the old man, his eyes brightening. ‘The mighty Panthers. I’m Coach Anderson’s father, Henry. Come in, boys, come in.’

  We shuffle in like a bunch of five-year-olds on our first day at school. We follow our coach’s dad into the living room. The room is packed.

  ‘We weren’t expecting this turnout,’ says Henry. ‘It’s touching that Scott meant so much to so many people. We’ve had to go out and order some pizza for everyone. So, grab yourself a slice, boys, and I’ll go and get Caroline for you.’

  Normally my friends would’ve pounced on the pizza, but they look the way I feel – totally gutted. Seeing all these people here has made us realise that this is for real – our coach is gone and we won’t be seeing him again. Who could eat at a time like this?

  I sigh, not sure which way to turn. I overhear two old ladies mention that the funeral will be next Friday. Then I notice some framed pictures on the wall. They’re photos of Coach Anderson as a young man.

  There’s one of him playing basketball. Looks as if he’s at uni. He looks fit. No sign of a beer gut. His hair’s darker. And long. And thick. He looks unstoppable, unbeatable … alive.

  ‘Hi, would you like some?’

  I turn around and it’s … it’s Lilly Kipinski. I stumble back, startled. I think my heart has just stopped. It’s her. The girl I haven’t been able to stop thinking about for a year. I first saw her when we played against her school. I was on court warming up and there she was, high up in the bleachers, cheering with her friends. It was as if everything stopped, including my breathing. Woah – talk about being hit by cupid’s arrow. Although I think cupid was out of arrows that day and he decided to hit me with a baseball bat.

  Of course, Lilly Kipinski, the girl of my dreams, doesn’t even know that I exist. And I’ve been too much of a wimp to do anything about it. It’s tough enough that she goes to another school, even though I see her heaps at the mall.

  And now she’s here, standing less than half a metre away from me. I gulp. My heart is thumping.

  ‘Would you like some pizza?’ she repeats, pushing the tray under my nose.

  ‘Um … yeah, um, pizza … love pizza, who doesn’t, huh?’ I stutter like an idiot. I grab a slice and start eating it as if I haven’t eaten in days.

  ‘So, so … um,’ I continue to stutter, accidentally spitting out a piece of olive, which lands on Lilly’s T-shirt.

  She just looks down at it, looking a little shocked. I can feel myself start to go bright red. Oh, no way! Can I be any more embarrassing? What the hell am I doing?

  ‘Sorry,’ I croak.

  I try to brush the olive off her shirt, but that only makes it worse. There’s grease on my fingers from the pizza and now she has finger marks on her T-
shirt as well. She takes a step back.

  ‘Sorry, sorry …’ I say nervously.

  ‘That’s okay,’ she says, placing the tray of pizza on a table and grabbing a napkin.

  Unbelievably, she starts to smile at me as she tries to wipe away the grease. ‘I think I know you,’ she says. ‘Do you go to Pennsbury? I’ve seen you play basketball. You’re really good. I go to Winston High. My name’s Lilly.’

  I can’t believe she actually knows who I am. This is awesome. This is the best thing that has ever happened to me, but I still can’t seem to talk to her. ‘Um … I’m … um,’ I squeak. ‘I’m Gus.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Gus.’

  Now what? Say something, I tell myself. Something funny. Something clever. Nothing comes and I just nod as she walks away.

  ‘Can I be any more retarded?’ I mumble under my breath, just as Charlie appears next to me.

  ‘Smooth!’ he says, sarcastically.

  ‘Did you just spit on Lilly Kapinsky?’ says Bobby, laughing.

  Thankfully there’s a lady heading towards us, so Bobby and Charlie don’t get a chance to tell the whole team.

  ‘Hello. Gus, is it? I’m Caroline. Scott’s wife,’ she says, reaching out to shake my hand. She’s a total hippy-chick – it’s hard not to stare at her long black hair, reaching down to her lower back, and her wrists, covered with a million beaded bracelets.

  Mrs Anderson doesn’t look the way I expected. I think I was expecting somewhere between librarian and TV newsreader.

  ‘And is this Bobby and Charlie? It’s so sweet of you boys to drop by like this,’ she says. ‘We don’t have kids and I know Scott looked to his students as if they were his own. Scott was happiest when he was on the court. His spirit was most alive then, as it is now. I’ll pass on the pure light, innocence and love from you all when I speak to him tonight.’

  Bobby, Charlie and I exchange glances. Did she just say, ‘speak to him tonight’? Maybe Mrs Anderson’s not all there.

  Bobby leans into me and whispers, ‘She does know he’s dead, right?’

  I jab my elbow into his side. And I try to nod and smile as if she hasn’t just said something completely crazy, but I see that Coach Anderson’s dad, Henry, has overheard. He gives her a pitying look and then disappears into a cluster of other guests.

  ‘Um, well, we just wanted to let you know how sorry we are,’ I say. ‘I don’t know what we’re going to do without him. We’re really going to miss him.’

  ‘Well, thank you, Gus,’ she says, taking both my hands in hers. ‘That means a lot to me and I know it will mean a lot to Scott. Oh, my, you are a bright soul, aren’t you? Your aura is remarkable.’

  ‘My what?’ I ask.

  Bobby can’t help letting out a short laugh, which he tries to cover up with a cough.

  ‘Your aura, the energy that radiates around you,’ exclaims Mrs Anderson, now gently brushing back my hair with one hand, her bracelets clinking with each stroke. ‘It’s so prominent. All the golds and purples swirling off you. You’re absolutely beaming, Gus.’

  ‘Um, thanks,’ I mumble, not sure how to respond.

  Mrs Anderson sighs deeply and releases her grip on my hands. ‘I hope you’ll be able to make it to the moving-on-to-the-next-life celebration, boys. Please stay as long as you like.’

  As soon as she turns and walks off to talk to some other guests, Charlie and Bobby race over to the rest of the team to tell them about Coach Anderson’s strange wife.

  ‘You obviously haven’t meet Caroline before,’ says a voice from behind me. It’s Lilly again. ‘She’s a medium.’

  Thankfully I seem to have found my voice this time. ‘A what?’

  ‘A psychic medium. She talks to the dead. She gives readings to people who want to get in touch with their deceased loved ones. It’s her job. That’s what she does.’

  ‘Well, okay then,’ I say. ‘I suppose that makes sense. Sort of. It sounds as if you know her really well.’

  ‘Yep, the Andersons have been good friends with my parents for years. That’s them over there.’

  I look up to see Lilly’s mum and dad making their way to the front door and gesturing for her to join them.

  ‘Looks like I’ve gotta go,’ she says.

  It’s now or never, I think. I’m not going to get a better chance to ask her out. Sure, I spat olive on her, but I’ve got to say something or I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. ‘Um,’ I say. ‘Do you want to go and see a movie with me one day or, you know, just hang out or whatever? Or, if you like, we could go for a bike ride … although, I don’t have my bike at the moment, which is, well, a long story … but yeah, well, you know… if you want to … me and you –’

  ‘Yeah, maybe,’ Lilly says. ‘Here’s my mobile number.’

  Her blue eyes are paralysing me. I hurriedly fumble in my pocket for my phone while I can still move.

  ‘Right, I’ll call so you’ve got mine …’ I say, pressing the call button.

  Her phone rings.

  ‘Great,’ she says, moving towards her parents. ‘Bye, Gus!’

  ‘Yeah, bye, Lilly.’

  I watch her leave. Stunned. I’m tingling all over.

  ‘You’re unbelievable!’ Bobby says, slapping me on the back. ‘How did you turn that around?’

  ‘You’re chatting up a girl at your dead coach’s house?’ says Charlie. ‘Have you no shame?’ He shoots me a goofy grin.

  CHAPTER

  06

  I watch my friends hop on their bikes.

  ‘You sure you’re okay catching the bus home?’ asks Bobby. ‘You can try to sit on my handlebars if you like?’

  ‘Nah, it’s okay, the bus stop is just at the end of the street,’ I say, waving them off. ‘Catch ya later!’

  I make my way to the bus stop and find an old man standing there. He stares at me. Actually, it’s more like he scowls at me. Or maybe he looks that way all the time. It’s hard to know with old people.

  ‘Um, excuse me,’ I say, trying to edge past him to get a look at the timetable.

  I have no idea which bus to take. And it doesn’t help that the timetable has graffiti and pigeon poo all over it.

  ‘Um, excuse me.’ I turn to the old man. ‘Do you know what bus goes to Greenstone Drive in Yardbridge?’

  ‘Yardbridge – that’s where I have to go,’ he replies gruffly. ‘I think it’s number six. Of course, if one doesn’t come by soon, I’m going to take up driving again – no matter what my family thinks.’

  ‘Um, okay, thanks,’ I say.

  I take out my phone and play a game on it while I wait.

  ‘You know, my family has a fit whenever they see me behind the wheel. It never bothered them before, but now it does,’ the old man adds.

  As if I care. I try to ignore him. I look down the street. Where is that bus?

  But the old man keeps talking.

  ‘It’s a terrible thing when your own family starts to treat you like a child. No, worse than a child – a baby!’ he huffs. What do they think I’m going to do? Tear down the streets as if I’m in a Grand Prix. Now I’m left catching unreliable public transportation. I suppose it’s good for my health – forces me to walk a lot more. But I’m not as fit as I used to be. You on the other hand look as if you could outrun a cheetah.’

  This old guy can really talk. I keep tapping at my phone. I’m going for my record on an app called Bin Hoops. I wish he’d shut up and stop distracting me.

  ‘You’re one of the basketball boys that showed up at the Andersons?’

  I sigh. I just missed that last shot. There goes my record. I nod to the old man.

  ‘Gus Delfino, isn’t it? You’re one of the star players for the Panthers, right?’ he adds.

  Okay. Now he has my full attention.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘But I’m not exactly a star player, we’re all–’

  ‘Don’t be modest, kid,’ he cuts in. ‘I’ve seen you play. You’re good. Damn good!’

  ‘U
m, thanks. So you’ve come to our games then?’ I ask.

  ‘I hadn’t seen Pennsbury play for years until recently. Before then I always got updates from Scott. He’s the son of my good friend Henry. Knew him since he was a child. This season when he told me that your team was on a winning streak, I started to come and watch. And let me tell ya, I’m excited for you, kid – you and your team. You’ve got what it takes to go all the way. Pennsbury hasn’t been in this situation since I coached them.’

  Wait a minute! ‘Since you coached them?’

  ‘Yeah, I used to be the sports teacher at Pennsbury High. A lifetime ago now.’

  ‘Seriously?’ I say.

  ‘Yep, seriously. The team I coached made it to the finals.’

  ‘That was your team?’ Now I’m impressed. ‘That was the last and only time Pennsbury made it into a basketball final. But… you lost that game, didn’t you?’

  The old man scowls.

  Oops. Quick, get my foot out of my mouth!

  ‘I mean you just lost. You lost by a single shot or something, right?’

  Okay. Not helping. Rub it in, why don’t I? ‘Sorry I didn’t mean …’

  ‘Nah, it’s fine,’ says the old man. ‘Doesn’t matter anymore.’ But for some reason I don’t believe him.

  ‘Well, we’ve made it. And we’re pumped,’ I say. ‘Will you come to see us in the elimination final next Friday?’

  ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ he says. ‘Scott wants me to be there …’ He trails off. He’s staring out at nothing in particular. I know he’s thinking of Coach Anderson, because I am too. ‘Of course, I mean, he wanted me to be there.’ He sighs heavily. ‘It’s a tragedy, a crying shame. No parent should see their kid go before them.’

  A wave of sadness hits us both, and we stare at the ground in silence.

  ‘Look,’ says the old guy, finally. ‘Here comes our bus now. It’s a pleasure meeting you, Gus. I’m George. George Cavendish.’

  The bus is empty. George and I are the only passengers.

  I walk to the back seat and I’m surprised to see that George is following me. With all the empty seats to choose from the old man has decided to sit right next to me.