Hey, Nobody's Perfect

by Ann Herrick

  "You have a teddy bear?" I teased. It wasn't that I didn't want to take what Keeley said seriously. I just didn't want to analyze it in depth right in the middle of the track. Especially since I suspected he wasn't talking only about my feelings about softball.

  "Of course I have a teddy bear!" Keeley opened his eyes wide. "Don't you?"

  "Actually, I have three."

  "Whew!" Keeley pretended to wipe his brow. "For a second I was worried you might be a deprived child."

  "Depraved maybe." I rubbed my hands together and flashed an evil grin. "But not deprived."

  "Depraved?" Keeley grabbed me around the waist. "Sounds like my kind of girl."

  "That's what you think!" I wriggled out of his grasp and took off down the track.

  Keeley quickly caught up with me, grabbed my arm and pulled me across his wheelchair. He looked me over seductively. Before I could figure out if he was still just kidding around, a loud, deep voice said, "Miss, is this guy giving you trouble?"

  A tall, dark, muscle-packed hunk who looked as if he probably had quarterbacks for lunch stood over us with his hands on his hips.

  In my surprise, it took me a moment to find my voice. "N-no," I finally said. "We were just fooling around."

  "You sure?" said the magnificently proportioned male specimen as he gently took my hand and helped me to my feet.

  "Uh, yes. Thank you."

  "Okay." He shrugged matter-of-factly at Keeley. "Just checking." Then he jogged off.

  "Hey," Keeley said, "I like the way you hesitated before you told that guy that I wasn't bothering you."

  "Sorry," I said. "Next time I'll try to instantly leap to your defense."

  "Ah." Keeley stroked his chin. "So you're already planning on a next time." He took hold of my hand and pulled me toward him. "That can be arranged."

  "Not now." I grinned, gesturing toward other runners now on the track. "Too crowded." Then it dawned on me that with this many people at the track, it must be getting late. "I should get home. Dad's coming over to see me. I'd better hurry, or I'll miss the next bus."

  "No problem. Keeley's limousine service can get you there in time."

  "I don't want to break up your morning at the track just to drive me home," I said, not too convincingly.

  "I've got things I need to do anyway. Let's go."

  Keeley had to lower the lift in his van, switch to his regular wheelchair, then put the racing one in the back before we got going. At the corner he turned left instead of right.

  "Hey, home is that way," I pointed out.

  "I thought maybe we could swing by the hospital and see Todd," Keeley said.

  "But my father …."

  "It won't take that long. Your father can wait on you for once," Keeley said. "It's still early and he didn't say what time he was coming over anyway."

  "But—"

  "Besides, I feel kind of responsible for Todd," Keeley said in this almost fragile voice.

  Arrg. I didn't know why Keeley felt even a little responsible for Todd, but he looked so, I don't know, concerned that I knew I'd feel like a rat if I insisted he take me home instead of going to see Todd. Besides, I was sure the hospital would have limits on how long visitors could stay. "Okay. Let's go see Todd."

  "All right!" Keeley flashed his crooked smile at me.

  Once at the hospital it didn't take long to find out what floor Todd was on. As we headed down the hall to his room, we ran into Lona.

  "Hi," I said, "How's Todd?"

  "H-hi, guys." Lona's voice cracked slightly. "I … I heard about the accident this morning and came over as soon as I could. The surgeons put in a rod last night. In a few days they'll check the wound area again to … to see if his leg can be saved …."

  All I could do was give a startled gasp.

  "Saved?" Keeley said in a hoarse whisper.

  "I-I didn't understand it all," Lona said. "But something about the doctors having to determine the status of the circulation and the soft tissue, if it's healing or not …."

  An icy fear gripped me. It was one thing for Todd to miss the rest of basketball season, another to lose his leg.

  "Look," Lona said. "Why don't you guys go see Todd now? His mother left when I came. She'd been up most of the night. His father … his father's on a business trip and, uh, won't be back until next week."

  No one said what we all had to be thinking—how could his father not cut the trip short to be with Todd?

  "I just need a quick break, but I'll feel better if someone is with him. He's on meds for the pain." Lona said. "I won't be long."

  "Yeah, you go do whatever," Keeley said. "We'll check on Todd."

  "Great. I'll be right back."

  When Keeley and I got to Todd's room, we exchanged nervous glances before we went in.

  Todd was staring at the TV, but it didn't really look as if he was focusing on whichever version of "The Terminator" was on.

  "Hi, Todd." I forced myself to smile.

  "Hey," Keeley said.

  Todd turned his head toward us. "You guys were there, right?" His voice was kind of groggy. "You called 9-1-1?"

  Keeley and I both nodded.

  Todd pointed to his leg. "You heard? That it's possible I might lose it?"

  Keeley and I nodded again. All I could think was, we're not being of much help here.

  Todd gave us a funny little smile. In a monotone of despair, he said, "Hey, Keeley, maybe I'll be a crip, just like you."

  Chapter Nine

  My stomach clenched into a tight ball. Sounds rushed in from the hallway. Light from the TV flickered. I felt totally cut off from my thoughts.

  "What you are," Keeley said, as cool as a mountain lake, "is all in your attitude."

  "That's right!" I quickly came alive. "Look at Keeley! He's an athlete!" Yikes. I sounded like a hyperactive chipmunk.

  "An athlete?" Todd's voice was as flat as a plain pizza. "Yeah, right."

  "He races!" Gah! What was the matter with me? Why couldn't I stop talking in exclamation points?

  "You don't know yet what'll happen with your leg," Keeley said, his voice as smooth as butter. "But there's a guy with no legs who's a triathlete."

  "Humph." Todd clenched his jaw.

  "Okay, you don't have to do the Ironman Triathlon, but you'll be able to get out and do pretty much whatever you set your mind to do."

  "Yeah? Like play basketball for Willamette City High?" Todd's voice was heavy with sarcasm.

  "Who knows what—"

  "I'm back!" Wearing a big smile, Lona approached Todd and held out a cup. "I thought you might like some soda."

  Todd just shook his head.

  "Oh." Lona's smile faded.

  When Todd saw how disappointed she looked, he took the cup from Lona. "Actually, yeah. Thanks."

  I thought that was a cue to leave. "Um, Keeley and I really need to get going. But, uh, we'll come and visit you again, Todd."

  "Great—don't forget the balloons for the pity party."

  "Uh. Well. We'll see you." I nodded at Lona, turned and left the room.

  Keeley caught up to me in a flash. "I shouldn't have let the air out of his tires."

  "What?" I stopped and stared at Keeley.

  "If I hadn't done that, Todd wouldn't have been on that part of the road when the deer jumped out. This is all my fault."

  I stuck my hands on my hips. "Keeley, that so is ridiculous. Who knows what else Todd was doing when we left the party. He was with Lona, remember? Maybe they were making out. Would you blame Lona for Todd being on that part of the road at that exact time."

  "Of course not."

  I started walking again.

  Keeley whizzed right along next to me.

  "The accident was nobody's fault," I said. "Well, maybe the poor deer, who didn't survive."

  "Yeah," Keeley said. "And what does an innocent deer know about crossing the road, anyway?"

  "Exactly." Then it occurred to me that Keeley was probably semi-joking, which I t
ook to mean he wasn't blaming himself any more, or at least not so much. Still, I added, "There are a lot of deer in that area. One could jump out at any time. Who knows, maybe another jumped out into the road fifteen minutes earlier, but there just wasn't a car on the road at that time."

  "Yeah, I guess," Keeley said.

  On the way home, I noticed that Keeley was driving really slowly. Okay, after last night, I could understand that he wanted to be cautious, but ten miles under the speed limit was a bit too slow. Judging by the line of cars in back of us, I'm sure I wasn't the only one who thought so.

  "Did you mean it when you told Todd we'd see him?" Keeley asked.

  "Yeah," I said. "I mean, I think he's going to need a lot of encouragement, especially if he, you know, will lose his leg …."

  "Well, that, sure," Keeley said. "What I was wondering about was the 'we' part." As he stopped at the red light, he turned, raised his eyebrows at me and gave me his crooked smile. "'We,' as in you and I?"

  "Um, yeah." I felt my face turning pink. Time to change the subject before Keeley gave me the third degree about the precise meaning of "you and I." "You know, this is the fifth red light we've stopped at." I tapped my foot. "I don't want you to speed or anything, but couldn't you go a bit faster?"

  "Why so impatient?" Keeley said. "Is it your dad? What time is he coming over?"

  "I don't know," I said, trying to swallow my irritation. "He just said today."

  "It's only eleven now. If he can't be more specific than 'today,' he shouldn't be upset if you aren't there the second he arrives."

  "Maybe he shouldn't be, but he will be!" I said, waving my arms in the air and almost hitting Keeley in the face.

  He pulled over to the curb and stopped.

  "Why on earth are you stopping?" I shrieked.

  "To let you calm down. I can't drive and defend myself at the same time." Keeley rested his hand on my shoulder. "Take a few deep breaths."

  I panted like a dog. "There! Satisfied? Now let's go!"

  Keeley ignored my command. "Please—you notice I said 'please'—don't let your father's anger rule your life. So he might have to wait for a few minutes. So what? You didn't agree on a time, right?"

  "Okay," I said in a calm voice that belied my impatience. "I'll point that out to Dad if he's upset. I promise. Can we go now? Or do I have to hitchhike?"

  "We'll go." Keeley grinned as he pulled back onto the road. "One of my many talents is unsolicited advice. I don't want your Dad's attitudes interfering with your thought waves. I mean, I think you and I are getting to be ... friends. A couple days ago I wasn't sure that could happen. I don't want anything to get in the way." He paused and raised an eyebrow. "We are friends, aren't we?"

  "S-sure," I stammered softly. I wanted to believe that. I mean, Keeley having no legs was … different, but it sure was better than having no values, right? Right?

  I sneaked a look at Keeley. He was trying to watch the road and look at me at the same time. His big brown eyes were warm and tender, but they seemed to hold a challenge too. Think for yourself, Sivia, I could almost hear him saying.

  I knew I shouldn't be afraid to make my own decisions. I knew I shouldn't be afraid of what other people might think.

  But, unfortunately, I was.

  We pulled into my driveway. "Ack! It's my Dad's car."

  "I thought you were going to chill about your father," Keeley said.

  "I'm beyond chilled—I'm frozen. Thanks for the ride." I hopped out of the van and ran for the back door.

  Keeley leaned out the window. "I'm glad to see you're so calm." He shook his head as he pulled out of the driveway.

  I heard Mom and Dad talking in the kitchen, so I just slipped inside. Mom was at the sink, and they both had their backs to me. Maybe Dad didn't know I'd been out.

  "You went out with Gail Kent?" Mom asked in a high voice.

  "So?" Dad said. "What's wrong with that?"

  "Nothing. Nothing at all. It's just that Gail is our age."

  Whew! They weren't talking about the party or the accident. Of course, neither of them knew about the party and maybe Mom didn't mention to Dad that it'd been Keeley and I who'd called 9-1-1 about the accident. I mean, she wasn't always, um, forthcoming to him about things since the Big D.

  "That Hawkins guy who's always parked in this kitchen is our age too," Dad said.

  Mom turned to Dad, and I could see her face was pink. Dad kind of laughed. I hadn't seen the two of the act that way with each other for a long time. It seemed like a good time to make my presence known.

  "Hi, Dad," I said cheerily.

  Mom turned back to the sink, and started scrubbing a fry pan.

  "Sivia?" Dad looked confused, then smiled and launched into his latest outline for my life. "I talked to the assistant softball coach at the university. She said she could see you at her office at one o'clock this afternoon. She can't coach you herself, but she knows some who can."

  "Hold it a second." I took a deep breath and summoned my courage. "We need to talk about softball."

  "Honey." Dad blinked. "We are."

  "No. You are. I have something to say."

  "Oh? What?"

  I spit it out before I lost my nerve. "Dad, I don't want a personal coach."

  "Now see here." Dad flushed. "I went to a lot of trouble to—"

  "I know. I'm sorry. But I didn't ask you to. And another thing," I said quickly so he couldn't interrupt. "I really don't like studying replays of every single game with you."

  There was an awkward silence, then Russ walked in. He must've picked up on all the tension, because he immediately grabbed a doughnut. Powdered sugar sprinkled on his chin as he chewed.

  "Studying the games is very important." Dad's voice took on a hard edge.

  My stomach curled into a ball. "Dad, too much of that stuff takes all the fun out of it."

  "Fun?" Dad paced in a tight circle. "There's always room for fun. But you have to work if you want to be a real success. What about excellence?"

  "I never feel 'excellent'!" I shouted. "I make a mistake and it just kills me. Whatever I do, it just isn't good enough."

  "Take it easy. You can always eliminate mistakes. Especially if you have a personal coach to help you." Dad put his hand on my shoulder. "When you're good at something, you should give it your best shot."

  I brushed Dad's hand off my shoulder. "Sometimes I just want to forget about softball. Sometimes I just want to quit."

  There was a hush. I'd said the dreaded word.

  "Quit? Quit? My daughter, a quitter?" Dad's eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

  Russ grabbed another doughnut.

  Mom cleared her throat. She dried her hands on a towel and touched Dad's sleeve. "I'd like to say something."

  I held my breath. I knew Mom would come to my defense. But that might make Dad explode.

  "Sivia," Mom said. "You know I want what's best for you." She glanced at Dad, then continued. "I think softball gives you the best chance for a scholarship. I don't think you should give it up."

  I stared in shocked silence.

  "Mom's right," Dad said. "If you have an opportunity to get a scholarship, you should go for it. Don't throw away your talent. You know what they say. 'Once a quitter, always a quitter.'"

  "And there's nothing worse than a quitter, is there?" I blinked back tears. "Except maybe a loser. That's what you think I am. A loser."

  "Now, Sivia—" Dad started to say.

  "Don't 'now, Sivia' me!" I saw Russ reach for another doughnut, so I lashed out at him too. "Stop eating doughnuts! Feeding your face won't solve anything."

  Russ froze in mid-bite. He threw the doughnut on the floor and ran out of the kitchen.

  Mom gave me a look of mute appeal.

  "Sivia." Dad reached out to smooth my hair.

  "Cut it out!" I swatted his hand away.

  Dad's face flushed with rage. "Don't you ever—"

  "Leave me alone!" Hot tears slipped down my face. "Can't you
ever just leave me alone?"

  I ran out of the room.

  "You get back here. This instant!" Dad bellowed ferociously.

  He started to come after me, but Mom said, "Kurt, just let her go for now."

  I stormed into my room, slammed the door and threw myself down on my bed. I let the tears flow. For a couple minutes it felt good to cry. Then I took a deep breath and stopped. I sat up.

  What happened? I thought I was going to clear the air with Dad. Instead, I created a smog of anger and guilt. Where did I go wrong?

  I needed to talk to someone. I called Ilana.

  Her phone was turned off. She must be with Gavin. I called information and asked for Keeley's home phone number, hoping his family had a landline. They did. I jotted it down and wondered if I should call. Keeley always cheered me up. He was easy to talk to. I punched in the number, hoping he would answer.

  I recognized his voice the second he said, "Hello."

  "Hi. It's me. Sivia." My voice quavered.

  "What's up? Did you talk to your father?"

  "Yes."

  "So? How did it go?"

  "Not great. That's why I called. I was wondering. Would you, um, could we meet somewhere? To talk."

  "Oh." Keeley's tone was apologetic. "I joined a wheelchair basketball team and just found out there's practice in half an hour."

  "Oh. Well." I swallowed hard. "Some other time."

  "No," Keeley said. "I mean, you sound upset. I'll pick you up, and you can watch the practice. After, we can go somewhere and talk."

  "Thanks."

  "I'll be there in a few minutes."

  I wiped my eyes, blew my nose and combed my hair. My wrist had a little more flexibility, so it didn't take too long. I wanted to look good. I'd feel better if I did.

  I stepped out into the hall. Mom and Dad were still in the kitchen, Mom talking softly, Dad sounding agitated but not quite so totally angry as before. I didn't want to run into them, so I decided I'd sneak out the front door. I was just tiptoeing down the hall when Russ came out of his room. He took one look at me and started to duck back in.

  "Psst, Russ," I whispered.