by Phil Bildner
On the way home from the meeting, Mom and I went by Stop ’n Save. Mom likes to do her big food shopping on weeknights because the store usually isn’t as crowded as it is on weekends. She lets me push the cart now that I’ve learned not to bump into the backs of people’s legs (people really don’t like that) or knock over the display of spaghetti sauce (it only happened once).
I followed her into the produce section.
“You’re having corn on the cob without me?” I said, hopping onto the cart’s underbar and rolling up to the fresh sweet corn, this week’s manager’s special, according to the sign.
“Sure looks that way,” she said, dropping a few ears into the cart.
“That’s cold, Mom.”
Corn on the cob was our absolute fave. There’s nothing better than fresh, sweet corn on the cob off the grill.
“Maybe we’ll have some with dinner after you’re back on Sunday.”
“Maybe?”
She smiled. “I can’t guarantee there’ll be any left.” She pointed up the aisle. “Grab a couple baskets of strawberries. Just make sure the label says organic. Sometimes they inadvertently mix in toxic ones.”
Toxic. That’s what Mom calls fresh fruits and vegetables that aren’t organic.
“Why were you texting during the meeting?” I asked. I was still standing on the cart’s underbar.
“You saw that?”
“Yeah, I saw. You were texting.”
Mom’s never the person who texts when someone’s talking. She doesn’t even like it when people tweet out what she’s saying at a workshop or meeting. She likes to be able to see people’s eyes. She likes everyone to be present.
“I was putting out a fire at school,” Mom said. “I told Coach Acevedo ahead of time I would be using my phone. I didn’t want him to think I was being rude.”
I pressed my chest to the cart handle, kicked out my feet, and jumped off. I air-dribbled like Iverson to the strawberries, grabbed a couple nontoxic cartons, and stacked them next to the corn on the cob that had no chance of making it to Sunday.
“There was another reason why I was texting,” Mom said. “That’s what we need to talk about.”
“I don’t like the way that sounds.”
She pulled a plastic bag from the dispenser. “It has to do with your father.”
“I told you I didn’t like the way that sounded.”
“Honey, I—”
“Do we have to talk about it here?”
“You leave for the Showdown tomorrow, Rip. When else are we going to?”
“How about never?”
She pointed to the fruit behind me. “Nectarines, peaches, or plums?”
“Peaches,” I said. “No, make that plums.”
“I didn’t want to bring it up until I knew for absolute certain.” She stepped around the cart to the red plums. “Your father won’t be getting to the Showdown until Saturday morning.”
“I bet he doesn’t even show.”
“He’ll show.” She nodded to the red onions. “Will you grab a four-pound bag? That’s the bigger bag.”
“I still don’t think he’s my real father.”
“We’re not having that conversation,” she said firmly. “You know how much—”
“He looks nothing like me,” I said anyway. I flipped the mesh bag of onions into the cart. “I bet if he took one of those paternity—”
She cut me off. “I said, we’re not having that conversation. Even though your father and I weren’t together all that long, we—”
“Long enough.” I held my arms out wide.
“Yes, long enough. And there was no one else. That’s how I know he’s your father. There hasn’t been anyone else either.”
“You’ve been with Dana.”
“Well, Dana and I don’t exactly have the necessary equipment.”
I covered my ears. “Overshare!”
“You brought it up.” She placed her hands atop mine on the handle. “Rip, you’re not making this any easier for me right now. Let me just say this.”
“Say what?”
She paused. “When your father gets there Saturday morning, he’s going to be the third chaperone.”
“No he’s not!” I tried sliding my hands out from under hers, but she held my fingers.
“He is, Rip. It’s the only—”
“He’s not!”
“Coach Acevedo wasn’t able to secure a third chaperone. This was the only solution.”
“Only?” I slammed my foot into the display behind me. “This is so not fair!”
She squeezed my fingers. “Honey, your father is saving the Showdown for the team.”
“How can you do this to me?” I kicked the display again.
“Without your father, Clifton United can’t go.”
All Night Long
9:45
I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling.
I knew it’d sounded weird when Coach Acevedo said the third chaperone was staying in a separate room. I knew it. I was right.
How can he do this to me?
I clicked off the light.
* * *
11:16
I’m not going. No way.
I smacked the wall next to my bed.
“No!”
I don’t care that Red needs me there. Why does everything always have to be about Red? This isn’t about Red.
I smacked the wall again.
* * *
12:22
Coach Acevedo’s words played on a loop in my head.
We’re counting on you big-time, Rip. We need you to pick up where you left off at the end of fall ball. You’re Clifton United’s floor leader, our team general. I’m going to be pushing you hard, real hard.
I covered my ears.
* * *
1:30
He was getting there on Saturday, but I didn’t know when. I had to be ready. I clasped my hands, pressed my thumbs and knuckles to my lips, and played out the scenes. Pictured them, visualized them. Like I did for hoops. So that when it happened for real, I’d already seen it.
He’s there when the bus pulls up to Hoops Haven. Leaning against the sign in front. Wearing faded jeans, an untucked long-sleeve white button-down, and red low-top Converse. The same outfit he wore to The Wizard of Oz.
He shows up when we’re eating breakfast at the hotel. He sits down in a booth by the window. He smiles and waves me over. Everyone sees him smile and wave me over.
He gets there during the first quarter. He doesn’t sit in the bleachers. He stands beyond the baseline. Under the basket. Barking at the referee.
I had to be ready. So that when it happened for real, I’d already seen it.
* * *
2:04
I sat on my bedroom floor with my writer’s notebook in my lap. The page was still blank. We were allowed to write whatever we wanted, and if we didn’t want Mr. Acevedo to read what we wrote, all we had to do was turn down the top corner and write “DNR” on the flap.
DNR = Do Not Read.
“Writing helps my head,” Mr. Acevedo liked to say. “When I’m trying to work through something or figure something out, I’ll write down my thoughts. Everything that comes to mind. Sometimes just seeing the words on the page helps.”
I’d never done a DNR journal entry.
* * *
2:47
DNR
How do you choose your job over your family? How do you just leave your family? You didn’t have to go. No one made you go. You went on your own.
I don’t know what to write but I know I have to write because if I don’t write something I’m going to explode. This riuns everything. You left. You left me. You left us. Now you want to come back and watch me play and think your part of the team. I don’t want you here. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to see you ever, ever, ever!
* * *
3:08
We have to start dealing with this. That’s what she says. I have to stop kicking the ca
n down the road. I have to start taking steps toward reconnecting with him.
Who do you think pays for that cell phone of yours? And how many pairs of sneakers do you have? Three? You think I paid for those on my own? Your video games? That laptop?
I held my purple teddy by the arms and chewed on the ear.
Your father and I are on the same page about this. We have been ever since we found out he was being transferred back later this year.
* * *
3:58
I told Red he had to come to the Showdown. I told him he couldn’t miss it. I told him it wouldn’t be the same without him. I told him everyone wanted him there. I told him it was going to be sick.
I gripped the back of my neck with one hand and squeezed purple teddy’s belly with the other.
Zombie-Walking
A few hours later, Red and I walked to school like we do every morning. Only this morning wasn’t like every other morning.
As we headed down Orleans Lane, Red kept looking over. He wanted to talk, but I hadn’t said a word yet, and the longer I stayed silent, the faster he patted his fists against his legs.
I was the one who always started our walking-to-school conversations. It wasn’t like a rule or anything. That’s just the way it was. But not today.
Today, I was zombie-walking.
I blinked hard. My head was in such a haze. I’d slept an hour last night. Maybe. When Mom came in to wake me, I was on the floor. No pillow, no covers, just me and purple teddy.
We turned onto Key Place.
“You’re thinking about that thing again,” Red said.
“What thing?”
“He speaks!” The words exploded from Red’s mouth.
“Ha.” I managed a small smile. “How long have you been waiting to say that line?”
“Since my driveway, Mason Irving.”
I was barely able to see what was in front of me and was shuffling along like I do after finishing my last set of end-of-practice up-and-backs, but it still registered that Red had made a joke. Not a joke-joke, but a funny comment. Red used to never say things like that.
“You’re thinking about that thing again,” he repeated. “You were thinking about it on the walk to school on Monday. You were thinking about it in—”
“No I’m not.”
“Yes you are, Mason Irving. Something’s up.”
Red always knows when something’s up, and most of the time he knows exactly what that something is.
I let out a puff. “It’s not … Well, there’s more to it now.”
“Why don’t you want to go to the Jack Twyman Spring Showdown?” he asked.
I flinched. “What?”
“Why don’t you want to go to the Jack Twyman Spring Showdown?”
“Who says I don’t want to go?”
“You did.”
“When did I say that?”
“Right now. You’re saying it right now, Mason Irving.”
Like I said, Red knows when something’s up and, most of the time, exactly what that something is.
“Why don’t you want your father to be a chaperone?” Red asked.
I didn’t even know Red knew my father was the third chaperone, but it made sense that he did because everyone’s gotten a lot better about letting him know about unexpected changes and surprises.
“I don’t really remember your father,” he said.
“Not much to remember.”
“Does your father know basketball? If your father knows basketball, maybe—”
“Can we not talk about him?”
He turtled his neck. “Sorry, Mason Irving.”
We turned onto Niagara Drive. Red spun around the stop sign at the corner.
“You have to be there, Mason Irving,” Red said. “You can’t miss this. You know you want to go.”
That’s what I’d said to Red. Pretty much word-for-word. He was right. I had to be there. No matter how badly I didn’t want to go, no matter how badly I didn’t want to see him, I had to be there.
“I know,” I said softly. “I’m going.”
“Yes!” Red said. “We’re going to the Jack Twyman Spring Showdown.” He started skip-walking. “The Hoops Haven Sports Complex is supposed to be amazing.”
“The hotel has an indoor pool,” I said.
“My mom packed my goggles,” Red said. “She packed a pair for you, too.”
“I’ll wear them.”
Whenever Red goes swimming, he always wears goggles. He won’t go in the water without them because he doesn’t like getting splashed in the face or getting chlorine in his eyes. He also doesn’t like being the only kid wearing goggles. So I wear them, too.
“I’ll make sure no one splashes you,” I said. I bumped his shoulder. “I’ll get you a noodle.”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“I don’t need a noodle.” He hunched his shoulders. “I can swim. I’ve been taking swim lessons with Coach Lisa since kindergarten. I’ve been taking—”
“Noodles are the best,” I said. “I’ll take yours if you don’t want one.”
“Steph Curry’s taking my noodle.”
“Huh?”
“Maybe Steph Curry will be at the pool.” Red smiled. “Maybe Steph Curry will be at the pool because he heard that Clifton United’s U-N-S-T-O-P-P-A-B-L-E point guard is going to be there.” He laughed.
I laughed, too. Red made another joke. A joke-joke that was funny.
We turned into the schoolyard.
“Can I ask you something?” I said.
“Sure, Mason Irving.”
“Do you ever wonder what it would be like if your dad lived with you?”
“I never met my dad,” Red said.
“I know, but do you ever wonder what it would be like?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No, Mason Irving.”
For a few seconds, neither of us said anything. Finally, I bumped his shoulder again.
“Clifton United’s going to kick butt at the Showdown,” I said.
“Oh, yeah! Clifton United’s definitely going to kick butt at the Jack Twyman Spring Showdown.”
“How cool would it be if we won the whole thing?”
“Oh, man!” Red was skip-walking again. “If Clifton United won the Jack Twyman Spring Showdown, that would be amazing!”
I pointed to the jungle gym. Every morning on our way to school, Red and I obstacle-coursed the jungle gym. It was our favorite part of the walk to school.
“You ready?” I said.
“Ready as I’ll ever be, Mason Irving.”
At the Bus
As soon as the substitute teacher dismissed the class at the end of the day, Diego, Red, and I headed straight for the Clifton United team bus in the faculty lot.
We had a sub today because Mr. Acevedo had to attend an all-day staff development. He’d told the class about it yesterday, but with everything else going on inside my head, I had forgotten.
When we got to the lot, Super-Size, Mehdi, Mimi, Hudson, and Speedy were already waiting with Ms. Yvonne. Red and Diego joined them by the bus. I sat down on the curb.
Having a sub today saved me. I was able to nod off a few times during class without getting busted. It also saved me from having to interact with Mr. Acevedo. I wasn’t looking forward to that. Make that, I was dreading it. He was going to take one look at me and know just how much the situation with my father was eating at me.
“Yo, the bus is sweet,” Diego said, spinning a basketball on his finger. “We got to put our bags on already.”
The bus had arrived at RJE while we were at recess and parked in the front circle. Principal Darling had to tell the driver to move it to the staff lot because the after-school car pickup line was in the front circle and parents would freak if a mega-bus was parked there during Thunder Dome.
That’s where Mr. Acevedo was now. Thunder Dome duty. We were leaving for the Showdown as soon as he was done.
�
��My first away tournament,” Speedy said, “and we’re traveling in style!”
“We’re going to the Showdown!” Mimi gave pounds all around. “Get pumped, Clifton United.”
“Get pumped, Clifton United!” Red said.
I pressed my palms to my temples. I wanted to be fired up like everyone else, but I was running on fumes, and at any moment I was going to have to face Coach Acevedo.
An SUV pulled into the lot.
“Maya Wade is here!” Red said, pointing and hopping from foot to foot. “Amy ‘A-Wu’ Wu is here. Zoe Reynolds is here.”
I half smiled. You can’t help but smile seeing how happy and excited Red gets when he spots someone he knows.
“The ladies have arrived!” Maya said as she and the other two girls got out of the car. “Let’s get this party started!”
Like everyone else, they were wearing their Clifton United hoodies. We were going to look hot walking into Hoops Haven.
“Elbows isn’t with you?” Speedy said to the kids who’d just arrived.
“No,” A-Wu answered. “Was he supposed to come with us?”
“Yo, it’s messed up that he isn’t here,” Diego said.
I kicked out my legs and grabbed my toes. Diego was right. It was messed up. How could Elbows disappear like this? Maybe he was at Thunder Dome with Coach Acevedo. Or maybe he was meeting us at the Showdown.
“He’d better show,” Maya said.
“If he doesn’t,” Diego said, pounding his basketball, “I’ll be stepping up.”
“That makes two of us,” Mimi said.
“We’ll all step up,” Super-Size said.
“Check this out,” Maya said, pulling up the front of her hoodie. “I’m representing Clifton United twice.”
Underneath her sweatshirt, she was wearing a “Bench Mob” T-shirt. During fall ball, Avery from class had made shirts for the whole team.
“I’m representing!” Red said, lifting up his sweatshirt and showing off the number twenty-four Rick Barry jersey he had on under his hoodie. “I’m representing the Golden State Warriors. I’m representing Clifton United. I’m representing—”
“Let’s circle up!” Coach Acevedo walked out the side entrance.
He wasn’t alone. A kid in a Clifton United hoodie was with him. But it wasn’t Elbows.
