Fireside by Susan Wiggs (pdf e book reader txt) 📗

“Like baseball.”

“Uh-huh. But, man, I was humiliated. Back then, I didn’t understand what a huge favor they were doing me.”

“I still don’t want to put on gym clothes. And I really don’t want to put on swim trunks. People will think I’m a freak.”

“I’m not going to force you to put on anything.” Bo got out of the car and grabbed a gym bag from the trunk. He leaned way down into the car. “You can either follow me…or freeze. Your choice.”

AJ got out and slammed the door.

“And something else,” Bo said as they headed inside. “You wouldn’t worry so much about what people think of you if you knew how little they did.”

In the locker room, they changed into gym clothes. AJ wore a large gray T-shirt and some long shorts that were too big. He felt like a total dweeb, but nobody paid him much attention. The basketball court was busy with people who were totally focused on playing. The court was filled with the sounds of thumping basketballs and shoes squeaking on polished wood. Bo grabbed a ball and effortlessly dribbled it in a circle around himself, then passed it to AJ.

He put up his hands to protect himself, stopping the ball. “I suck at this,” he said.

“Naw, you just need some practice.” Bo got out another ball and demonstrated some dribbling techniques. “Loose,” he said. “Loose and easy. Treat the ball like it’s a dinner roll, hot out of the oven. You barely need to touch it.”

The advice worked pretty well. They practiced dribbling and passing. Bo didn’t seem too concerned about shooting hoops, which was fine with AJ since he’d probably end up missing anyway.

“Quit thinking so much,” Bo said.

“How can you tell I’m thinking?”

“It makes you slow and stiff.”

“So how do I stop?”

The ball flew straight at his face, fast and hard. He plucked it out of the air and bounce-passed it back to Bo.

“Like that,” Bo said with a grin. “You let your reflexes take over. Give your brain a rest.”

AJ didn’t understand why the technique worked, but it did. Pretty soon, he was dribbling and feinting like a real player. Weird. No one had ever bothered to show him how to play a sport before. His stepdad always used to be busy, and his mother didn’t really know any sports. Bo kind of led him into practicing shots. AJ missed more than he made, but he sank a few.

“You’re quick study,” Bo said.

AJ glanced at the clock. To his amazement, an hour had gone by. He was drenched in sweat, and so was Bo.

“One game of twenty-one,” Bo said, and explained a few simple rules. “Winner gets to pick what we do next.”

“No fair,” AJ protested.

“Life’s not fair. Deal with it.”

AJ was determined to win, but he was hopeless against Bo. That didn’t stop him from trying. He feinted and spun around, tried shot after shot and made some headway, but in the end, Bo reached a winning twenty-one long before AJ.

“Don’t take it too hard,” Bo said, tossing him the ball to put away. “Nobody beats me at games. Ever.”

“Good to know.”

Two kids had come in and were watching him. He figured they’d start snickering or whispering about him but instead, they came over when Bo waved at them.

“Hey,” one of them called. “How about a game?”

AJ checked with Bo, who nodded. “Go ahead. I’m going to get some water.”

The game with the other kids went okay. He didn’t win but he held his own. After a short while, they were all as hot and sweaty as AJ. The boys told him their names were Shane and Lehigh. They went to the middle school. And both of them knew who Bo Crutcher was. AJ wondered if that meant Bo was famous.

“Let’s go jump in the pool,” Shane suggested.

“Yeah,” said Lehigh. “Come on, AJ.”

“I don’t have my trunks.”

“Just wear those,” Bo said, indicating his long nylon shorts. He’d been watching from the sidelines, guzzling water from a plastic bottle.

“I don’t have a towel.”

“There’s a clean one in my gym bag.”

Great. AJ followed the others to the pool. Best just to bite the bullet, he decided.

He left his shoes and socks under a bench, then peeled off his shirt one-handed. As fast as he could, he streaked through the shower and ran and dove into the deep end. He wasn’t a good swimmer, but he was fearless. Growing up in Houston, every kid had to learn to swim, or risk drowning in an apartment complex pool.

Bo joined in, doing giant cannonballs off the diving board. He made huge splashes and swam like he’d never left Texas, with long, easy strokes.

“Your dad’s cool,” said Lehigh, treading water next to AJ.

“I guess.”

“You guess? What? It’s not cool enough to have a dad on the New York Yankees? Does he beat you or something?”

“Only at basketball,” AJ said quickly. “He’s okay. He’s just…We’re new to each other,” he said, not wanting to elaborate. “I’ve never spent any time with him before.”

“Where’s your mom?” Lehigh asked.

“She’s…away. Kind of going through a bad time. So I’m staying with my—with Bo for a while.” AJ couldn’t believe he was able to talk about her without bawling like a baby.

“Heads-up,” somebody called, lobbing a water-polo ball at them.

AJ didn’t think, just snatched the ball out of the air. Bo was right about that, at least. Things were easier when you didn’t think so much.

Eleven

AJ quit asking about his mom, because every time he asked, there was more bad news. Another delay. A report that additional documentation was needed. Another that the documentation was insufficient. A few days ago, she’d been transferred with a large group from temporary holding to something called a contract detention center. From there, she wasn’t allowed to call out, but he could leave a recorded message for her each day. Big whoop. Like that was supposed to make them both feel better.