Authors: Walter G. Meyer
“Good guess.”
“I figured. There aren’t that many Wardells
around.”
They turned onto Route 303. “If you want to pull
into the cemetery, I can show you a lot more.” Bobby pointed to the big,
wrought-iron gates rusted permanently open at the entrance.
Josh laughed. “I’ll pass, thanks. That’s
where I live. Quail Run,” Josh said pointing to the new housing development. “Do
you have brothers and sisters?”
“One. Sister. Megan. She’s at freshmen track practice now.”
“So your whole family’s fast?”
Bobby shrugged.
“I see you leaving Welke’s classroom after
second period. I had him last semester for
Between the World Wars: the
nineteen-twenties and thirties
. Best sleep I got all day,” Josh smiled.
“I have
Overview of American History.
We
learned that ninety percent of American History happened in 1967 and ’68, so I
don’t know what you could’ve covered in your class,” Bobby joked.
“I learned a lot,” Josh laughed. “I didn’t
realize how much of the Vietnam War took place during the Depression.”
As Josh’s tires crunched on the Wardell’s
gravel he asked for Bobby’s cell phone number.
“I don’t have a cell,” Bobby answered. “Who
would I call?”
“I thought I was the only guy without a
cell,” Josh said as Bobby wrote down his home number.
Bobby thanked him again for the ride.
“Nice hoop,” Josh said, pointing to the
backboard next to the garage. “You play?”
“I just shoot a little. I can’t really play.”
“Want to shoot a few?” Josh turned off the ignition. It was a less than subtle
hint that Bobby should say yes.
Bobby got out of the car. “I’ll get the ball. You might want to move your car
over so it doesn’t get hit by the ball and my dad can pull in past you.”
“A basketball hitting this piece of junk could only improve its looks, but I’ll
make room for your father.”
“At least you have one more car than I do.”
“My parents just got me this thing because they were tired of having to pick me
up all the time.”
While Bobby got a ball from the garage, Josh backed the car up and pulled it
forward and off to the side. Bobby dribbled across the concrete for a lay-up
that bounced off the rim. Josh dashed out of the car, snagged the rebound and
went in for a near-dunk. He grabbed the ball out of the net at the bottom and
passed it to Bobby with the skill of someone who had done this often. Bobby
dribbled twice and started in toward the basket, but Josh came in to guard him,
pressing his body close. Bobby lost control of the ball; Josh grabbed it and
spun to put it up and in again.
“Wow. You’re good.” Bobby said. “Did you play this year?”
“I went out, but then quit. Had too much other stuff going on. My father was
mad. Said I should letter in all three sports. I will next year. Did you go to
any of the games?”
“I’ve never been to any basketball or football games. I see enough of Taylor
and Brickman at school and baseball.” He stopped, realizing he had said too
much.
“I know what you mean,” Josh agreed as he did an effortless turnaround shot.
The rebound took off and Bobby chased after it, dribbled once, and made a
three-point swish. “Nice shot,” Josh said, pulling the ball down.
“When I’d make those my dad used to say, ‘even a blind squirrel gets an acorn
now and then.’”
“You should practice those. With your height, you won’t get much inside, but
you’ve got a nice touch.” It was the first time anyone had ever made note of
Bobby’s shortness without it sounding like an insult. Josh took a last shot at
the hoop and let Bobby grab the rebound as Josh walked to his car. “I’d better
get home,” Josh said. “We can play some more next time if you want.”
Bobby was a little too dazed to say anything more than, “Okay.”
Josh pulled a U-turn in the large driveway and out onto Route 303. Bobby was
still staring after the car when his mother pulled in. “You’re home late,” he
said.
“Tax time, remember?”
“Oh right.”
“We’ll be seeing little of your dad for a
while, too. But he’s coming home on time tonight. He went to Meg’s meet.”
Right on schedule, his father and Meg pulled in the driveway. His father got
out and his eyes immediately found the basketball that Bobby had under his arm.
“Must have been practicing hard, you worked
up a sweat,” his father said.
Bobby shrugged. His mother and sister went into the house. His father took the
ball from Bobby, handing Bobby his briefcase and newspaper to hold. He took a
shot that missed. “If you have any energy left, maybe we can shoot a few more
after dinner.”
“I have homework.”
“Lots of it?”
“Another term paper since the teacher didn’t
like the first one.”
“What’s the new one on?”
“The U.S. Strategic Victory in Southeast Asia, 1964 to 1972.”
His father’s confusion passed quickly. “If you need any help, let me know. I
was there.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t do much, but I was there.”
“I know.”
“Well, let me know if you have any questions.”
“That’s okay, I’m making most of it up
anyway,” Bobby said as he turned to go into the house, leaving his father
confused again.
Bobby stood under the shower. He felt bad
about the way he had acted with his father. His dad was just trying to help.
Like when he’d try to help him at basketball, but somehow it didn’t seem like
help. More like unconstructive criticism. He might not have meant it like that,
but Bobby somehow always ended up taking it that way.
It still seemed a little unreal that Josh had just hung out with him. Not just
given him a ride home, but actually wanted to stay. Not since Lucas had moved
away when they were twelve had Bobby had a friend over to the house. And Lucas
had been coming over less and less by then anyway. Something had changed
between them that Bobby had never been able to put a finger on. Since Lucas,
Bobby seemed to have fallen so far behind everyone else socially and physically
that he had never really tried to make another friend.
Maybe Josh was too new to realize Bobby’s undeserving status. Or maybe Josh was
just too nice of a guy to care. Josh certainly laughed at all of his jokes. Meg
and her friend Jesse were the only other ones who did. Of course they were also
the only other people he ever got to be funny with.
Bobby’s father had to pound on the door a
second time to bring him out of the fog of his shower. “Bobby! Dinner!” Bobby
shut of the water. “And try to limit the showers to half an hour.”
After dinner, Bobby went into the sewing room.
They still called it the sewing room, even though his grandmother’s sewing
machine hadn’t been used for at least ten years. It still sat in the corner,
its table now covered with accumulated papers, magazines and other junk that
ruled out sewing. For more than a decade the room had been the computer room.
Bobby looked up a few facts for his paper, stared at the monitor for a few more
hours then went to bed.
6
The next afternoon, Meg ran in the door from practice and almost into her
brother. “Oh my God! Did you see who just turned around in our driveway?”
“Who?” Bobby started towards the door, but Meg grabbed him.
“Josh Schlagel!”
“He wasn’t turning around. He was hanging out here this afternoon after
practice.”
“Yeah, right. Like Josh Schlagel would set foot in our house.”
“He did. We hung out. You know who he is?”
“Duh. Everybody knows who he is. Besides being the best player on the football
team, he’s the cutest guy in school.”
“You think he’s cute?”
“Me and every other girl in H-burg. Ash and Jess and I saw him at Manny’s Pizza
one night. We just stared. He has the greenest eyes. You could tell even from
across the restaurant. And that dimple on just one side, and that cute way he
smiles so it goes up on one side and down on the other. And his voice. So soft.
So romantic. And you can tell he has a perfect body.”
“I see him naked in the locker room after practice all the time,” Bobby said,
smirking.
“Okay, now get serious. Why was Josh here?”
“I told you. To hang out. He was here yesterday, too. We’re sort of becoming
friends.”
“You don’t have any...” Meg stopped herself. “Wait, he was here yesterday and
you didn’t tell me? When’s he
coming back?”
“I dunno,” Bobby said, “Whenever.” Bobby was now finding his sister’s
excitement contagious and wondering when Josh might come visit again.
“Wait until I tell Ash and Jess. They will die. Josh Schlagel in my house!
Twice!”
She started upstairs then stopped. “You have to let me know when he is coming
so I can be here. And I need you to take a picture of us so I can email it to
those guys!”
She bounded up the steps two at a time and Bobby just stood in the living room
basking in his own happiness which was now enhanced by his sister’s jealousy.
*
*
*
*
*
For the Saturday morning away game against
Marshall High, Coach Hudson was again using Schlagel on the mound. He must have
thought Josh had what it took to face the best in the league. As the Hawks took
the field in the bottom of the third, there was still no score and Bobby walked
over to Hudson. “Coach?”
“What, Wardell?” Hudson looked impatiently
from Bobby to the field.
“I think I’ve got their signs.” Hudson took
off his hat, stroked back his hair and looked down at the small player. “From
my end of the bench down there, I can see between the catcher’s legs. I figured
out the pattern.”
Hudson was now staring intently and demanded,
“You think you have the signs, or you know you do?”
“I do. One finger is fast ball, two is a
curve, three is a change-up and four is that screwball or whatever it is he’s
trying to throw but missing the plate with every time.”
Hudson replaced his hat and studied Bobby.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
The coach looked out over the field then back
to the dugout. “Okay, I want you to get back down to your end of the bench.
I’ll tell our guys to tune in to your voice. Their first name means a fastball.
Last name is a curve. Their number is a change up or other junk. If Brickman is
up, yell c’mon Corey for fastball, c’mon Brickman for a curve, and c’mon
one-four for anything else. Got it?”
“Sure.”
“Start yelling to the defense now so the other team doesn’t notice any change
in your behavior when we’re up.”
Bobby nodded and assumed his post. When the team came in from the field after
Josh put down their three batters in order, the coach called a quick huddle
among the starting players and then trotted to his box at third.
“C’mon Taylor,” Bobby yelled when he saw
curve ball called for, then “Let’s go, Danny!” when the catcher flashed one
finger.
“Christ,” Jason Farino said, looking at Bobby. “What got into you? Shut up.”
Relief pitcher Clint Dominick looked down the bench. “That kid doesn’t say a
word all year, now he’s a mascot. We oughta get him a costume.”
Bobby ignored them and stuck to his task. Dominick replaced Josh on the mound
for the last inning, but after the Hawks’ runs had been posted. Final score:
Hawks 3, Marshall 0.
Buff made the final catch and ran in from leftfield and right at Bobby. “Way to
go! You were MVPB.” Bobby looked puzzled. “Most valuable player on the bench.
Good job!” He chucked Bobby on the shoulder.
When the big man moved away, Josh was
standing behind him, smiling down at Bobby. “Rob, thank you. For my double. For
my single. For my RBI. And for my win. Thank you.” He trotted off to line up
with the other players on the first base line.
*
*
*
*
*
As Josh pulled the old Ford into the driveway, Bobby saw Meg and
her father playing one-on-one on the driveway court. Josh stopped the car and
turned off the engine. Bobby looked at him with a stab of fear. Josh opened the
door and Bobby’s panic grew.