Here to Stay Page 16

  We stood staring at one another, breathing heavily and waiting for the other to make a move.

  “Look, it’s late. We’ve got to play tomorrow,” Drew finally said. “Can we save this argument for the bus ride home?”

  I went into the bathroom and slammed the door behind me. Noise from the TV filled the room. I brushed my teeth so hard, my gums bled.

  I left the bathroom and crossed to my side of the room by the glow of ESPN. I crawled under the covers and lay there in silence. Drew didn’t make a move to turn off the NBA highlights show he was watching, but I was too wired to sleep anyway.

  “It’s just you and your mom?” I asked.

  “I thought our ‘getting to know you’ time was done for today,” Drew said, his eyes fixed on the TV. “But yeah. It’s the two of us. Why?”

  “It’s just my mom and me too.”

  “Maybe we’ve got the same deadbeat dad?” Drew joked. “Mine’s a real piece of work. A guy named Tim who would rather play keno and drink than hang out with his kid. What’s the deal with yours?”

  “My dad passed away,” I said, turning away from him to try to sleep.

  “Oh. I, uh . . . Sorry.” He did sound sorry.

  “It happened a long time ago,” I said. “Sorry about your dad too.”

  “Yeah, so am I.” We didn’t say anything for a while, but the TV stayed on, the Buffalo Wild Wings commercials beginning to lull me to sleep.

  “Thanks for not telling the guys about my fight with Erin at her party,” Drew said.

  He’d kept that thank you under his hat for a while, but I’d take it.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “So you’re friends with Bergner?” Drew asked.

  “Yeah,” I said without hesitation.

  “Did she ever talk to you about, uh . . . you know, her and Erin?”

  “No. She didn’t.”

  “You repeat any of this and I tell everyone you pissed your bed, got it?”

  “Got it.” I rolled my eyes. The last thing I needed to worry about was the student body thinking I was a bed wetter when they had formed such kind opinions of me already.

  “I kind of thought there was something going on between Erin and Bergner for a while. I asked her about in the beginning of the year and she said I was being ridiculous. But I wasn’t, was I?

  “I called her a few days ago. I should have been the one allowed to be upset, but she started crying and I felt sorry for her. Isn’t that messed up? She’s got a thing for someone else, and I feel sorry for her. I mean, I may have a never-there dad, but her folks aren’t that far from being in Tim’s club of negligent parents.

  “I asked her if she needed anything, and she started crying again. She went on and on about how she’d never cheated on me, like they’d never gotten physical or whatever until she broke it off with me . . . but it’s so embarrassing.” Drew paused for a second before continuing. “Not that she’s into chicks. I mean, whatever. It’s high school, people got to figure their stuff out. I didn’t plan on us getting married. If she’s gay or bi, so be it . . . but she picked Busted Bergner over me? How does that even make sense? Isn’t Bergner like captain of the chess team?”

  “Something like that,” I said, grinning a little in the dark. Drew couldn’t believe he had lost Erin to a chess nerd. “But isn’t it better that you have your senior year free to date whoever you want? So long as the crap that comes out of your mouth doesn’t get in the way.”

  “I guess. It was nice to have a taste of the good life, though. Pool parties, trips to her house on the Cape . . . Plus, she wasn’t a snob, you know? She’s not like Jessica, who acts like she’s superior to everyone.”

  “Yeah, I’ve gotten that vibe from her,” I agreed. “Why do Erin and Elle hang out with her?”

  “No idea. She’s so fake around them, but she’s a totally miserable person. I mean, you’d have to be to hook up with Will on the regular.”

  “Gross,” I said.

  “Match made in heaven until he broke it off. Anyway, Erin calmed down after we talked. I kind of realized we don’t have a whole lot in common. I think we kind of used each other. I liked her lifestyle, and she liked having the safety of being in a straight relationship. After that Noah kid sent out that email, I could understand that better. You must be relieved they caught him.”

  Relieved. Sure. Tonight had definitely proved I had nothing to worry about anymore.

  “He said he didn’t send the picture of me,” I replied.

  “And you believe that freak?”

  Deep down, I did.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Breakfast buffet! Wish I had more of an appetite,” I said as Drew and I ambled into the Holiday Inn dining area dressed in our Granger warm-up suits. I took a plate and looked at the wide array of pastries, fruit, and yogurt cups. It was a sliver of joy in an otherwise lousy trip, but I didn’t think I’d be able to get much down after the night I’d had.

  “We’re not supposed to load up on sugar,” Drew said. “Coach says we’ll be more likely to crash later.” I took the tongs and placed a mini Danish on my plate. I held another above Drew’s plate, waiting for him to object. “Okay, maybe one won’t hurt.”

  I dropped the pastry on his plate and kept the line moving. Most of the team was already sitting at a table with Coach. He was wearing a suit and tie, his thinning hair combed back Pat Riley fashion.

  “You going to tell Coach about what happened last night?” Drew asked as I piled hash browns on my plate.

  “I had planned on it, yeah.” I expected him to object or tell me to sit on it until we got home. Maybe he thought I was a snitch, but I wasn’t going to let Will push me around anymore.

  “I’ll back you up,” he said.

  I was stunned. “Thanks.”

  “That guy’s got it coming. Hanging out with the enemy and all.”

  “Right. Your show of concern is duly noted.”

  “You know what I mean.” Drew picked up a plain yogurt cup. “Do you see him?”

  I finished loading up my plate with some fruit and looked around the dining area. No sign of Will.

  “Maybe he got arrested,” I said as Drew and I walked over to the team’s table. I sat beside Todd. He had a black piece of duct tape covering the Gunners mascot on his warm-up jacket.

  “Morning,” Marcus said as Drew sat next to him. Marcus had also duct-taped over the mascot on his jacket. “Did you get any sleep?”

  I hadn’t slept much. When I’d looked in the mirror that morning, I’d seen dark circles under my bloodshot eyes.

  “A little.” I didn’t want to tell him in front of everyone what Will and his goon had done, and definitely not before the game. I wanted to talk to Coach in private, but he was writing in his playbook, probably making last-minute changes to our game plan while he ate his eggs.

  “Don’t be nervous. Play your game and you’ll do great,” Marcus said.

  “It’s our last chance to win for Granger, and we’re cool as cukes,” Todd said. If anything, I wanted to win for him and Marcus. These were their last games in Granger uniforms, and even though they didn’t like the mascot that represented them, they had represented the school and team with dignity and honor.

  “Do you have any duct tape?” I asked Marcus.

  “It’s in my sports bag,” he said with a wry smile. “I’ll get it to you in the locker room.”

  Drew pretended not to hear us, focusing on stuffing his face full of protein. He hadn’t touched the Danish yet. I guessed he was saving the best for last.

  “Young is waffling on more than whether or not he wants to eat his Danish, Reggie. Waffling. See what I did there?”

  “Kevin.”

  “Because it’s breakfast time?”

  “We’ve talked about this. If you have to explain a joke . . .”


  “I know, I know, then it’s not funny. I’m doing my best with what we’re working with here. Let me know when it’s game time.”

  I was pouring ketchup on my hash browns when Will walked in like one of the zombies McNair hunted. He was wearing Ray-Ban sunglasses and his here to stay T-shirt. His Granger warm-up pants were unsnapped on the sides. He ignored all the food on the buffet table and headed straight to the coffeepot.

  “Morning, Will!” Drew shouted. Will recoiled, almost spilling the coffee. He took a seat as far away from Coach as he could get. “You get a good night’s rest?”

  Will didn’t answer him. He took a sip from his cup and rubbed his temple.

  “Will,” Coach said, still looking at his playbook. “You hungover, son?”

  “No, Coach,” Will said, his voice hoarse.

  “I can’t hear you. What’s that?”

  “I said no, Coach.”

  Coach looked Will up and down in disgust.

  “I suppose you’re just tired?”

  “Yeah. The mattresses here do nothing for me.”

  “That’s fine. You can get plenty of rest on the bench,” Coach said, taking a sip of orange juice.

  “What? Coach, I’m fine! Really, I—”

  “This is it, Thompson. We’ve had a good ride together, but the team can’t make any more excuses for you. I can’t make any more excuses for you.” Coach pointed his finger at Will. “You want to make a mess out of your own life, by all means go ahead. You’ve got a hell of a start. But there’s no way you’re taking this moment away from these young men or from me. B, you’re starting in Will’s place.”

  I was starting! I nodded but didn’t make a sound. None of the guys at the table did. I did my best to keep the grin off my face.

  “Coach, come on. I can play,” Will croaked.

  “I’ll think about it when B needs a break, but I’d rather put in someone who cares about this team and not about getting his jollies on road trips,” Coach said. Then he turned back to his playbook. The discussion was over and Will knew it. He rested his head on the table.

  ***

  When we walked out onto the university’s court, we were met by a packed house of students, faculty, parents, and friends clapping and screaming at higher decibels than I’d ever heard before.

  I looked for my mom, Sean, and his parents in the stands. They sat in one of the middle rows near our bench. I waved. Mom waved her Granger pom-pom at me. Sean held up a sign that read Eye of the Tiger, Beej! which cracked me up.

  We got into our layup lines and began to warm up. Will stood behind me. “I had fun last night,” he said over my shoulder.

  I ignored him and waited my turn.

  “Some of my buddies were sorry they couldn’t meet you. See if you can spot them today. It’s great that you’ll have plenty of time on the court with them.”

  I caught my pass and ran up to take my shot. The ball bounced off the rim. I almost never missed my layups. I had to get out of my own head. I had to get Will out of my head, or I would be off for the whole game. I watched the Mercer Day team do the same drill. Eric dribbled to his basket and made his shot with no trouble at all.

  When the whistle blew and the game started, Will’s buddies lost no time. Eric was guarding me, and he looked like he would eat me alive if I let him get too close. He was itching for the fight he hadn’t gotten the night before. He didn’t let me breathe.

  “Mercer Day’s number two is a tenacious defender! It is going to be hard to get the ball to Majidi under that kind of pressure.”

  Marcus found Todd posted up under the basket for a few easy buckets in the first quarter, but Mercer Day tightened their defense and made it hard for Marcus to keep feeding Todd in the paint. They had good perimeter shooters, and what they lacked in rebounding, they made up for in fouls and trash talk.

  “I heard you got the nuke codes on you,” Eric said to me as Todd took his foul shots.

  By the beginning of the third quarter, the score was tied at 34. Marcus had a monster of a game, leaving it all on the floor. He was making sure he was going out a legend. I managed to score twice, make five assists, and grab three rebounds.

  When I tried to push off Eric to run a play, he grabbed my arm to stay with me.

  “Come on, ref! Open your eyes!” Coach shouted, his face red as he paced the sideline. “This kid is grabbing all over my player!”

  “Don’t let them push you around!” I heard my mom yell when the ref handed me the ball. I inbounded to Marcus and darted down the court before Eric could reach me. He couldn’t keep up this intensity all game. If I kept running him around, I would eventually wear him down.

  Marcus was stuck at the top of the key, but I still couldn’t shake Eric. Todd came out to set a pick for me. I cut through the lane, caught the ball, and drove in for a layup. I wasn’t missing this one. But as I went up, a bulldozer slammed into me. I fell to the court, banging my hip hard. Eric landed on top of me.

  “Try and make a layup on me again. Then we’ll see what happens,” he spat, bouncing to his feet.

  “Two shots!” the ref shouted. He blew his whistle. I got up and gingerly approached the free-throw line. The crowd behind the basket began to chant. At first I didn’t register what they were saying. Then it grew louder.

  “U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!”

  The chants were mostly coming from one row. Will’s buddy Mike stood with some guys who looked too old to be high school students. They had wrapped athletic towels on their heads and wore fake beards. One of them held up a poster-sized version of the terrorist photo of me. I looked over at the bench. Will laughed unapologetically, freely, with absolute glee.

  The ref passed me the ball. I wanted to hurl it at Will. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run into the stands and rip up the poster. Instead, I dribbled twice, focused on the basket, and shot the ball. It went in and my “fans” were silenced.

  “I’m going to call a time-out after you make this shot,” Marcus said to me from behind. “They’re assholes. But you don’t cry out here!” he commanded. “You don’t let them see you cry out here.” I hadn’t realized my eyes were welling up. I nodded as the ref passed me the ball for my second shot. Will’s friends began to chant again, and more of them held posters. I shot the ball and missed. The crowd cheered wildly. Eric boxed me out by pushing me down with his arms, another flagrant foul.

  “Majidi is down! He is down!”

  “You never want to see this kind of thing in our beloved sport, Kevin.”

  The ref blew the whistle again, calling a technical foul.

  “Who has paid off this ref? That was a flagrant foul! Unbelievable!”

  “Is there nothing sacred in the game of basketball, Reggie? The refs have definitely lost control today.”

  Coach Johnson ran out onto the floor. He and most of my teammates circled above me. The tournament trainer came over.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine,” I said over the lingering chants of “U.S.A.” But I wasn’t fine.

  I hurt everywhere.

  I hurt everywhere.

  When I finally got up, some of the crowd applauded. It was comforting that some people in the gym cared about me.

  “Do you feel well enough to play?” the trainer asked. I looked up at Will’s cronies. They didn’t seem to be letting up. I spotted Mom talking to the campus security officer, pointing at the stands. Sean rushed over to the area behind our basket. He ripped the poster out of Mike’s hands and rushed away.

  I left the court without answering the trainer’s question and without assistance.

  “Where are you going?” Drew yelled after me.

  I went straight to Coach.

  “I’m done,” I said.

  “All right, we’ll sub someone in while you take a break.” He motioned for Will.

  “No. Get them
out of here, or I walk off.” I kept my back to the stands.

  Coach looked at me, eyebrows raised and mouth open. You’d think I’d asked him to rob a bank with me or to move to Antarctica. The game came before any of his players. But he called a time-out and went to talk to the refs. Will’s pals in the crowd noticed the security officer headed their way. They took off their beards and hurried to the exit.

  “What? You can’t take a joke?” Eric yelled out from half-court.

  “I trash talked in my day, Kevin. But I never stooped so low. Not even against the Knicks, and they had it coming.”

  I turned toward Eric and charged him.

  Drew got in in front of me, blocking Eric from my line of vision. “Forget that guy! He’s not worth it.”

  Marcus and Todd huddled around me, trying to stop me from making a bad decision. Will’s friend Steve hung by Coach and the refs, listening to their discussion.

  “What do you want to do, Beej?” Marcus asked me.

  “I don’t want to let you guys down, but I want to leave.”

  “You won’t let us down. Will did, but you won’t, no matter what you decide to do.”

  Coach came back to our bench. He had his hands on his waist and his chin was jutting out like it did when he was stressed at practice.

  “There, it’s taken care of. Can we get on with basketball now?” Coach said.

  I gawked at him. So did Marcus.

  “Why are you looking at me like that? You think there aren’t going to be creeps in your life? You think you can just run away from them? Let’s beat these guys, show them you’re not going to let them get to you.” Coach was right, but he also didn’t know what this felt like. He didn’t even seem to care what this felt like. “Now, if you want to sit out a minute, B, that’s fine. But we’re finishing this game.”

  “I’ll play,” I said. “Once you say my name.”