INSTALLMENT
NINE
from
THE FATHER
CONTRACT
By Arthur Arrington
Edited Paul Scott
Nifty needs any contribution from you, however small, to keep their invaluable service up and running. None of you wants to miss out on another episode involving PJ and his buddies! My God, we're all in love with this kid!
Chapter Twenty: The Ups and Downs of Winter Break
When PJ woke the next morning, the first thing he saw was his snowboard. He smiled, and stretched and yawned. He felt content and happy. Jack had been here; he`d given him a wonderful present. It'd been the best Christmas anyone ever could've had!
He wished Jack had stayed longer. It seemed like a long time to wait until he would visit again. PJ got up, got dressed, and tried to think of things to do. It would have been nice if Erik were there. But at least Erik was coming back early and that was something to be glad about. When he went downstairs to see if anyone else was going to breakfast, he turned out to be the only one.
After eating, he ran to the library on the chance that it might be open, but the schedule taped to the door read, "Closed! Not open until tomorrow." Darn! He he'd wanted to get that Dickens book, A Christmas Carol.
He wandered back to the House and curled up with the book he'd started in the bookstore, the one called The Kid Who Only Hit Homers. What a neat book! He knew everything about Babe Ruth, thinly disguised as a character called Mr. Baruth, and easily recognized the episodes that referred to him. Because PJ was a fast reader, he devoured the story quickly. He put it carefully away on a shelf to keep it safe so he could read it again later on.
When he heard sounds downstairs, he went to investigate. The other kids were up at last and Pedro was investigating the set of magic tricks PJ had given him. They spent the rest of the morning trying the various tricks, taking turns practicing them. His housemate was good at it and mastered an illusion done with some rings that fooled PJ even though he thought he knew how the trick worked. "Nice!" said PJ. "You're good. Wait 'til everyone gets back from vacation and sees what you can do."
"I've been learning different magic tricks for a long time," Pedro explained, "so I pick up new ones pretty fast. It was neat of you to give me this set, PJ!"
PJ blushed and looked away. "I'm just glad you like it."
They went together to lunch and afterwards drifted down to the sports fields, finding that boys from other houses had gone down there too. They all played a game of touch football until more boys arrived and they separated into older and younger age groups. The older boys continued to play football, but the younger ones decided to play soccer. PJ liked soccer and he was pretty skilled at it, so he and Pedro joined in and had a bunch of fun.
When the afternoon began to get dark and the games broke up, PJ walked slowly back to the campus with the others. It wasn't yet time for dinner, so for awhile he moped around his room, feeling lonely and thinking, The bad part about having friends is how much you miss them when they're not around!
Suddenly he had the neat idea that he would send e-mails to his friends. That would be just as good as inviting them for imaginary visits. After logging into his computer, PJ typed happily away, creating cheerful messages to Jack, Charlie, and Erik, telling them about his activities, the football, the soccer. On Jack's, he added a line asking Jack to tell his friend the author how much he'd enjoyed his baseball book. PJ wanted to know if the man had written any more. That's another thing to look for in the library, he thought. After sending the messages, he brought "Flight Simulator" up on his computer. His pirated version didn't have any of the cool graphic libraries and sometimes crashed his system, but it worked well enough. PJ landed the Concorde a couple of times. Then he went to dinner.
That evening he started on Kidnapped. The book got his interest quickly, and he read until he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. After that, he undressed and got into bed. As he was going to sleep, he congratulated himself on getting through the day so well, thinking, only one week to go until Erik comes back.
The next morning, because PJ's holiday swim training began, he no longer had to worry about staying busy. The day's routine started with tough workouts in both the weight room and the pool. There was a break for lunch followed by a two-hour rest period, which PJ took advantage of to hit the library. There he not only discovered A Christmas Carol, but to his delight found a whole shelf of sports books by Matt Christopher, the same author who'd written The Kid Who Only Hit Homers. As he paged through them, they all looked good, so he decided to make a project out of reading every single one. For starters, he took the first book on the shelf and stashed both it and A Christmas Carol in his room before going back to the pool for a long, grueling, afternoon session.
That week, even though the swimming schedule was hard, PJ still enjoyed himself. He wore his new practice suit and was the envy of all the other kids because he made sure everyone knew Jack had bought it for him. The physical challenge of training was something he liked, and even though he found the repetition of the interval-training a little boring, he knew that this holiday period was the last of it and that the coach would switch to a more varied, interesting type of workout for the rest of the season. To keep his interest up during the long sets, he played mental games with himself, competing against his own times or those of other swimmers. He was fascinated by the way he could use his mind to force his body beyond its limits, trying always to see how far he could impose his will and push himself into exhaustion. There were long periods in the repetitive drills when he became so absorbed that he would enter a trance-like state from which his coach would have a heck of a time arousing him.
Every night PJ read for as long as he could before going to sleep. He finished Kidnapped, and liked it well enough although Stevenson's Treasure Island remained his favorite. A Christmas Carol he loved. He committed entire passages to memory, and was delighted by the way Dickens used a musical term in calling his chapters "staves." When school started again, he resolved to tell his music teacher how clever this writer was. The Christopher sports book was exciting and fun. Then he started Kim. >From the very first words, he realized it was nothing like The Jungle Book. This book was harder to understand, yet once he got started, he was fascinated. PJ loved it, too. He hated to put it down, even for meals. But no matter how wrapped up he was in his reading, he sent Jack a short e-mail every night. So far, though, he hadn't gotten any replies.
The week flew by, and before he knew it, New Year's Eve arrived. PJ had no workouts over the weekend because of the holiday, so as he ate breakfast, he tried to think of things to do. An aimless wandering around campus turned up no one to play with, but on the way back to the House he thought of Mr. Thatcher and his son Billy. Why not? PJ asked himself. He went up to his room, updated his event schedule on his word processor, and printed a fresh copy. After folding it neatly into the pocket of his jacket, he went back outside and proceeded cautiously across campus, checking to make sure no one was paying any attention to him. At the main gate, he took a last survey to be sure he still hadn't been seen, crossed the road to the short row of little stores on the other side, and disappeared up a side street.
It was about a mile walk to the small house where the Thatchers lived. When PJ arrived, he stood on the road for awhile, watching and listening. Everything was very quiet and there was no movement behind the curtains in the windows. It was only then that he realized how early in the day it was. Maybe they're still asleep. Probably I'll just be a nuisance anyway. Maybe I should forget the whole idea and go back to school. Maybe. . .
PJ took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He'd come this far. Mr. Thatcher had asked him for a full schedule of his events and it was in his pocket. He would go to the front door and knock lightly, not hard enough to wake anyone. If there was no answer, he could just slip the list under the door and leave.
PJ walked across the lawn and climbed the steps to the front door. There was a door bell button, but instead of pushing it he softly knocked. From inside the house came the sound of running footsteps, and Billy threw open the door. "PJ!" The youngster's face lit up with delight. Leaving the door open, he ran back into the house, yelling, "Daddy! Mommy! PJ's here!"
Mr. Thatcher appeared and warmly greeted him. "PJ! Come on in."
PJ produced the folded schedule and held it out. "I remembered you said you might want to come to some baseball games," he explained. "So I brought a schedule for you. It has all my swim meets on it, too." The man unfolded the paper and looked it over. "Some of the dates I'm not sure of," PJ told him. "But if they change, I'll call you or come over with a new one."
"Okay, PJ." Mr. Thatcher was obviously pleased. "I do want to take Billy to see some of your games. I think it would be good for him to watch you play. He sure has taken a liking to you."
"Daddy," Billy asked, pulling at his father's sleeve. "Can PJ stay and play for a while?"
"Sure, if he wants to." Billy's father grinned at PJ. "You better ask him, first."
"It's okay," PJ said.
"Come on!"
The little boy took PJ by the hand and dragged him off to his room, where they played with Billy's Matchbox cars. PJ'd forgotten how much fun they could be. Then they went out into the backyard to toss around a little Nerf football. PJ threw it to Billy over and over in a game he'd loved to play with Jack. When Billy caught the ball, he had to run back past PJ to score. PJ would let him win about half the time. Other times, PJ would grab him and roll with him to the ground as Billy squealed in delight, "Again, PJ. Again. Again!" When they finally tired of that game, PJ found a tennis ball and taught Billy how to play wall ball. The younger boy was entranced. "This is neat fun!" he exclaimed. PJ nodded in agreement. "Jack says it really helps your baseball skills."
After awhile Mrs. Thatcher had them come into the house for a milk and cookies snack. Later on, Billy showed PJ his favorite video game. It was one PJ knew well, so he was able to teach Billy several new tricks, as well as reveal some hidden power balls. Billy kept calling his father over so he could demonstrate "what PJ just showed me!"
Mr. and Mrs. Thatcher invited PJ to stay for lunch, and while they were eating, Mr. Thatcher asked, "What are you doing for New Year's, PJ?"
The boy shrugged. "Nothin' special. I'm gonna try to stay awake to see the ball drop in Times Square."
"TV's the way to see that," Billy's dad told him with a laugh. "You don't want to be there. I went one year and I never saw such a crowd!"
"I have to stay with a baby-sitter tonight," Billy said disgustedly. "Daddy? Why can't PJ baby-sit me?"
PJ giggled. "I'm not allowed to do anything like that."
"Why not? I bet if you were my sitter we'd have a lot a' fun!"
"Yeah!" PJ agreed. "Probably too much." He turned to Billy's father. "I hafta get back. I don't want to get caught off campus or I'll be in trouble."
Mr. Thatcher winked and gave him another grin. "You want me to drive you over and sneak you through the gate?"
"Maybe you better," PJ said, grinning back.
When they headed for the car, Billy insisted on coming along, and during the short drive to the school kept asking PJ, "When can you come again?"
Mr. Thatcher dropped PJ off by the Chapel and as he got out, said, "You keep me posted on that schedule, now. Billy and I want to be at some of those games!"
PJ waved as Billy and his father drove off, then wandered down to the sports fields where he found Blake, Donny, and some of his other friends from the swim team playing touch football. They called for him to join in, so he played for a few hours, and afterwards joined the others in playing video games on one of the boy's computers. When dinner was over, PJ returned to his room to begin reading Kim where he'd left off. But before starting in again, he set his alarm for eleven-thirty that evening because if he fell asleep, he wanted to wake in time to go watch the ball drop on TV. He checked on his computer, but there were still no e-mail messages from Jack. Lying comfortably on his bed, he opened his book and got quickly absorbed in it. Even though he was tired, the story was so good he didn't nod off and was still reading when the alarm beeped. Startled, he dropped his book and went downstairs.
Mr. and Mrs. Williamson, already in the common room with the other boys, had the TV turned to a channel showing the Times Square crowd. PJ recognized all the landmarks. At one point, the camera panned right past the big fancy pizza palace where he'd eaten. I was like Kim that day, he thought--amusing himself in the streets of a big city. The crowd was much bigger than it'd been on Thanksgiving. PJ could imagine how packed it must be on the sidewalks. Mr. Thatcher was right. He was glad he was watching on TV and not there, jammed between much larger bodies, unable to move.
At last the countdown began, and the ball dropped, while the Williamsons and the boys clapped and cheered. Everybody wished everyone else a Happy New Year, and all of them got hugs from Mrs. Williamson. After that, PJ went back upstairs, undressed, got into bed, and read a little more of his book before putting it away so he could roll over and finally go to sleep. As he drifted off, he decided once again that all the fuss about New Year's was kind of silly.
PJ was dead-tired when he woke up on New Year's Day, but he got up anyway and went to breakfast. With the exception of one woman in the kitchen, the big Dining Hall was deserted. He ate quickly, went back to his room, and checked for messages, but there was still no e-mail from Jack, so he typed one of his own, telling Jack about how he had played some football and watched the ball drop on TV. He finished the message with, "Bet you did some fun stuff, too. Send an e-mail and tell me what you did! Your friend, PJ."
After that he felt even more tired and went and lay on his bed. He was thinking he might read for a bit when his eyes closed and he went to sleep yet again.
PJ's nap lasted several hours. When he awakened, it was with a sudden start. He pulled his head up, looking wildly around for a moment, and frantically patted his hands all over his bed covers and clothing to be sure they were dry. The House was still quiet. He walked outside and wandered down to the sports fields to see if anyone was playing, but the fields were deserted. Although the day was bright and sunny, the wind was cold, so he walked to the baseball diamond, took shelter in a dugout, and lay face down on the narrow bench, one leg and one arm dangling off the side, while he stared out at the dead brown grass of the infield.
Why hadn't Jack sent a message?
PJ had been sure he would find one that morning. Perhaps I checked too early. He seized on that thought. That had to be it! Jack wasn't up yet. Everyone else was sleeping; so was he.
He felt better after this rationalization. He'd been on the verge of having his "crazy thoughts," and that was scary. Turning his head, PJ laid his cheek on the bench and stared out of the dugout without moving, trying to get into his other, non-crazy, fantasy world. He knew how to do it. All it took was to concentrate on the stout wire mesh screen in front of the dugout and its crisscross pattern of wires. If he looked at it long enough he could turn the screen into a pattern of small empty squares--like reversing the perspective on a picture.
PJ heard a faint roar in his ears. The co-pilot's voice came over the intercom. "Emergency procedure complete, Captain." Once more at level flight, PJ engaged the Concorde's autopilot. Beside him, the co-pilot looked at him in awe. "No one else in the world could have done that, Sir." The crowd cheered and PJ trotted around the bases. Another homer! He was the kid who only hit homers. Flashbulbs popped as he crossed the plate. Up in the stands, Jack and Erik were smiling and waving. PJ's parents were standing next to Jack. He couldn't make out their faces, but he knew it was them. Jack was saying something to them. He knew Jack was telling them that they had the finest son in the world. PJ walked into the dugout and stared at the screen. First it was wires. Then it was squares.
He blinked, and the screen was just a screen again. Somewhere, a bell rang. It's noon, he thought. He felt hungry. The athletic fields were still deserted when he got up, left the dugout, and walked slowly up to the Dining Hall for lunch, where he found Randy and Davis. After eating together, they went to PJ's House to watch the start of the Rose Bowl. At halftime, they took a football outside, tossed it around for awhile, then went inside and played video games.
PJ stayed busy all afternoon. After supper he went back to his room to check his computer. There was no e-mail. Still no message from Jack.
Going over to his bed, he flopped down and lay on his back for awhile, staring at the ceiling. He decided to read, but when he opened his book he found that he was unable to focus on the words. No matter how hard he tried, the letters remained a blur. A high-pitched ringing sounded in his ears, and immediately, he knew all too well what was happening. It was another one of his "weirds."
Although he still could read no words, the rest of the room appeared sharp and vivid. Every edge was like a knife and seemed tinged with red. He stared at the patterns in the cracks on his ceiling. They suddenly seemed very important. He felt they were on the verge of forming into a picture that would tell him something. He became hyper aware of his tongue and his heartbeat. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, but he was afraid to move it or his heart might stop.
Very carefully, so as not to disturb his tongue, PJ got up off his bed and went to his computer. The ringing buzzed faintly in his ears. He brought "Flight Simulator" up on his screen and began to play. Gradually, as he immersed himself in the game, the ringing went away, but PJ kept playing until he was certain the ""weirds" were completely gone. Only then did he shut the game down.
It took him a long time that night to get to sleep.
Monday morning was much worse for PJ. Everything was still closed, so there was no swim practice. But he got up and had breakfast anyway, and then wandered around the campus looking for something to do. There had still been no message from Jack.
Like threatening shadows outside the light of a campfire, some dark thoughts had begun drifting around the edges of his mind. PJ walked down to the baseball field again and sat in his dugout. Why hadn't Jack sent a message? There had to be a reason.
The shadowy thoughts moved up into the light of his campfire.
The reason is simple, they said. Jack doesn't care about you. He's forgotten all about you. He has his contract and his nice computer, and now he's gone.
The way they all go . . .
"No," PJ whispered. But why hadn't he e-mailed? Was the Palm computer broken? It was brand-new. Didn't Jack know how to use it? But, PJ had shown him. "There has to be some other reason," PJ said softly to himself.
There is, the thoughts replied. Jack doesn't like you.
"Yes he does!" PJ whispered fiercely.
How do you know?
"Because he's nice to me!"
He's nice to everybody, the thoughts pitilessly responded. He tells them what will make them happy, just the same way he does you.
"No," PJ whispered. "It's not true."
He felt tears coming and covered his face with his hands. I won't cry. I won't cry. I won't. I won't! he thought. But the tears came anyway. Terrified that someone would see him, he crouched in the farthest corner of the dugout, away from the light, hugging his knees, burying his face. "It's not true, it's not true, it's not true," he whispered desperately. Jack liked him. He knew he did.
No, said the thoughts. Your parents didn't like you and Jack doesn't either. No one does. There's something wrong with you.
PJ shook his head violently. "No there isn't!" He muffled his voice by pressing his face against his knees. "No-there-isn't!"
Then why did they put you in that place? Why did you have to see that lady for so long?
PJ had no answer.
He thought of his poster. He visualized that magical picture of Jack, standing holding his bat, with that confident grin on his face. "Anything's Possible, Tiger," Jack said to him. "Never give up!"
PJ desperately cried out in answer, "I won't, Jack, I won't give up on you. I won't!" With all his willpower he pushed the bad thoughts away, locked them out, and filled his mind with the poster. "I'll always believe in you, Jack," he whispered. "You never gave up and I never will either."
He sat for a while hugging his knees and rocking. At last he heard faint cries in the distance. He got up and went out of the dugout to listen. Some boys were playing soccer on the upper field. He went to join them.
After lunch, Erik came back and the day got a lot better. PJ was on his bed trying to read when Erik came bounding up the stairs and burst into the room yelling, "PJ!" He dropped his bag, threw himself on top of his roommate, and the two boys rolled around, wrestling, laughing, and tickling each other. When Bill came in a short time later, PJ pushed Erik off so he could get up and shake hands.
"It's good to see you, PJ," Bill said. "How's your holiday going? Are they working you pretty hard in your swim practice?"
PJ told Bill and Erik all about his Christmas with Jack and his week of practice. "New Year's Eve I stayed up to watch the ball drop in Times Square," he said. "There was this enormous crowd. It was OK, I guess."
"I saw that!" Erik exclaimed. "They said there was a hundred thousand people."
"We watched part of a bowl game yesterday," PJ told him, "but it was kind of boring."
"PJ," Bill said with a warm smile, "we sure appreciate you calling on Christmas Day. It was just like having you there with us."
PJ blushed and looked down. "It was Jack's idea."
"Well, it was great," Bill assured him. "And it solved a lot of problems, too. So I want you to know how much we appreciate your thoughtfulness." Bill got up. "I have to run along. You boys enjoy your holiday. Erik, your mom expects you to write once in awhile."
He shook hands. "PJ, you have those numbers. Don't forget, you can call anytime. I'll see you both when I come down for the game."
After he'd gone, Erik and PJ looked at each other. With a smile Erik said, "PJ, I've got a surprise for you." He took a package from behind his back and handed it over. "It's a little late," he added ruefully, "but Merry Christmas and Happy New Year anyway, PJ. I hope you like it."
PJ stared at the package. It was done up in silver and red paper with a card that read "Merry Christmas PJ, From His Friend Erik." PJ slowly peeled the wrappings off while Erik looked eagerly over his shoulder. "I can't wait for you to see this, PJ!"
Inside the box was a plastic case with five optical discs. It was the latest version of "Flight Simulator" with all the good libraries.
"Oh Wow!" Heart pounding with excitement, PJ examined the book that came with the discs. "Oh man! This is great!" He looked at Erik, his eyes shining. "Thank you!"
Erik hugged himself. "I knew you'd like it! I knew it!" He beamed at PJ. "I picked it out myself. As soon as I saw it, I knew you'd like it." He took the plastic case and pointed to the cover. "See? This is the latest version. Bill took me to this warehouse place where he buys all his software an' I looked around an' I saw this. I knew right away it would be what you wanted `cause you're always playin' it!"
Erik glanced around quickly. "Let's put it on your computer right now, PJ. We gotta try it!" They went to PJ's machine and placed the first disc in the CD drive, but as they were getting ready to load, Erik pointed at the screen. "Hey, you've got mail, PJ! Who is it?" PJ looked. His mailbox icon was blinking. In sudden anticipation, hands shaking, he moved the mouse and clicked on the icon. Delight flooded through him when he saw the heading!
Never give up, Tiger! PJ heard the words as if Jack were standing at his elbow.
"Hey, it's from Jack!" Erik exclaimed. "Cool! What does he say?"
Together they read the message:
"Hi PJ! Got all your e-mails. They're great. I enjoy hearing about what you are doing. Sorry not to send this sooner but you know how it is. I have been running around doing all my usual stuff - appearances, clinics, speeches, TV. You know how I hate it! PJ- This little computer is great! I don't know what I did without it before. Thank you for it, and all the other nice presents. I use your wallet every day and your picture-desk set is on my desk now. Charlie thought it was neat, too. He wants to know when you are coming again to visit. Tell Erik to save some good seats for us at his game. I am looking forward to seeing it with you. Until then - keep sending the messages! I enjoy getting them. Your friend, Jack."
"Man, oh man," Erik said. "Isn't he the greatest?"
"Yes," PJ agreed, speaking softly. "I think he is."
They spent the rest of the afternoon and evening loading and playing the new "Flight Simulator." Erik's comforting presence enabled PJ to enjoy a good night's sleep, and the next day swim-team practice resumed. The two roommates launched into the special holiday routine they'd planned. In short, PJ had no more time for crazy thoughts.
In the mornings, after an early breakfast, Erik would accompany PJ to the Field House and do weight training with the swim team, both boys pushing each other through the sets in good-natured competition. Then, while PJ worked out in the pool, Erik switched to the basketball court where he would practice lay-ups, jump shots, and other shooting skills using drills he'd made up himself. As soon as PJ finished, the two boys would rush over to the Dining Hall for a quick lunch, then race each other back to the Field House to play baseball on that wall Jack had picked out for them. At first, PJ taught Erik how to play the way Charlie and Jordan had showed him, but it was not long before they invented some new versions of their own. By two o'clock, PJ was back in the pool for his second swimming workout of the day, while Erik would return to the basketball court either for more drills or a pickup game with other boys. When PJ finished his afternoon workout, Erik would be waiting for him. The two boys would get dressed and run down beyond the sports fields to a favorite spot they called the "Hill," a steep slope crowned by woods where they liked to play and explore until darkness reminded them that it was time for dinner. Afterwards, there would be time for reading or video games until, tired from all of the day's activities, the boys would fall asleep. But not before PJ had sent Jack an e-mail telling him about all the fun he and Erik were having.
On top of it all, on Friday, something happened that made their wonderful vacation even better. It snowed!
They first noticed it when they came out of the Field House that afternoon on their way to the Hill. In the beginning, it was just a few small flakes. But while they played in the woods, more and more flakes fell until a milky veil was drifting down between the trees. There was no wind. The billions of tiny flakes fell in absolute silence. The two friends ran from the woods and stood at the top of the Hill in the twilight, staring at the campus lights shining through the soft curtain of snow. The ground was already covered in white. PJ crossed his fingers, held them up for Erik to see, and grinned at him. Erik crossed his, too, and grinned back.
They both got their wish. It snowed all night. In the morning when PJ and Erik awoke, it was still coming down. Snow buried their shoes as they tramped to breakfast across a campus transformed into a picture postcard, all the trees and buildings blanketed in white.
There was only one swim team workout scheduled for the day, and snow was still falling when PJ and Erik went to the Field House at nine-thirty. The snow lent everything a holiday gaiety. There was excitement and horseplay in the locker room. Everyone was anxious to finish the workout and get out into the deepening white stuff to play. PJ and Erik raced through the weight training; then PJ went into the pool for the rest of his own workout. Erik was waiting impatiently for him in the hallway when he finished. Together they ran to the Dining Hall so they could be first in line for lunch. After gulping down a hasty meal, both boys raced each other back to the House to get PJ's new snowboard.
"We'll take it to the Hill!" PJ yelled excitedly. When PJ and Erik got there, they found other boys with the same idea already coasting down with sleds and a toboggan. Some of their friends waved.
"Come on!" cried Erik. He and PJ trudged up the slippery steep slope carrying the board, not stopping for a breather until they reached the top. Erik looked down the Hill, then looked at the snowboard. "Have you ever tried one of these things, PJ?"
"Nope," PJ said. "How 'bout you."
Erik shook his head. Then he giggled. "I just know I'm gonna fall on my ass! It's your board, PJ. You hafta try first."
With a confident, determined air, PJ declared, "How tough can it be? It's probably like a skateboard, right?" He put the board down, tentatively placed his right foot on it, hesitated, and then gave a shove with his left foot and mounted the board. Boy and snowboard shot off down the hill, with PJ flailing his arms wildly, trying to keep his balance. Inevitably, when the board skidded out from under him, PJ skidded one way, the board another, and he ended up sitting on his butt in the snow watching the riderless board bound to the bottom of the hill without him!
Erik came running up, laughing so hard he almost fell over. PJ looked up and started laughing too. "Guess what?" he said.
"What?"
"It's not like skateboarding!" PJ got himself up and brushed the snow off. "It's your turn next. Let's see how you do, Big Shot!"
It took the boys a long time and a lot of tries before they could stay on the board for any length of time. Up and down the hill they trudged and skidded, taking turns and falling off time after time. They discovered that if they crouched way down on the board, almost sitting on it, they could ride to the bottom. After they had mastered that, they gradually tried standing up a little straighter. They were surprised how much leg strength was required. The only way to stay on the board was to crouch low, keeping their center of gravity down, and use their thighs and lower legs like springs. Between this and all the walking up and down, their legs got quite a workout. But they had tremendous fun and were the center of attention! No one else had a snowboard, and everyone watched enviously. By the time it got dark, both Erik and PJ had ridden once to the bottom without falling off. By that time, they were experimenting with turns. They limped back to campus tired, but in high spirits.
After dinner that night, they went up to their room and collapsed on their beds. "Oh-h-h, man, are my legs dead," PJ groaned.
"I don't see how I got up the stairs," Erik moaned.
"I think we can make it turn, tomorrow," PJ said after awhile. "Turning is sort of like skateboarding."
"Oh, sure!" replied Erik sarcastically. "PJ, let's just go slow with this, okay? I don't know how many more times I can fall on my tokus without busting it up." They both shrieked hysterically at Erik's surprisingly innovative vocabulary.
After calming down, PJ gasped, "Where in the fuck didja' did you come up with that word, Erik?" His roommate just smirked. Then PJ changed the subject. You know what I been thinkin', though? I'm gonna invite Billy to go sledding with us tomorrow."
"Who's Billy?" Erik asked.
PJ explained about the man who'd given him a ride back from the mall and how Jack and PJ had visited the man and his son on Christmas. "He's just a little kid," PJ said, "but he's pretty cool. I think you'd like him. And it would be fun for him."
"So invite him," Erik said. "I don't mind. He'll be okay if both of us are there to watch him."
The boys had no trouble sleeping that night. They went to bed early. PJ was so tired he didn't even send the usual e-mail to Jack. He slept heavily and well, without any of his troubling dreams.
When he awoke the next morning, he felt recharged, and when he looked out the window, he felt even better. The snow clouds had gone and the sky was clear and icy blue. The sun sparkled off the snow. PJ couldn't wait to go out into it!
Right after breakfast, he called Billy to ask him if he wanted to come sledding, and the little boy was so excited he could hardly contain himself. A half-hour later, PJ and Erik were waiting outside the House when Billy and his father drove up.
"PJ!" Billy yelled as he got out of the car and ran over to them.
"Hi Billy!" PJ introduced his roommate. "Billy, I'd like you to meet Erik, my best friend."
"Hello," Billy said shyly.
"Hi, Billy." Erik gave him a warm smile and held out a hand.
Mr. Thatcher came up and shook PJ's and Erik's hands. "This is very nice of you, PJ. Here's Billy's sled. What time should I pick him up?"
PJ grinned back at him. "Ah heck, not 'til late. We'll be on the Hill all day. Billy can eat with us. Then we'll probably play video games. I'll call you when we're done."
With a chuckle, Billy's dad nodded agreement. "Well, okay. Just don't be too late." He waved to the boys and drove off.
"Come on, Billy," said PJ. "We'll show you the Hill."
Billy fell in love with the Hill as soon as he saw it. "Oh man, it is steep!" he said in delight. He could hardly wait to show PJ how well he could sled. "Watch me!, PJ," he called when they got to the top. "Watch me. Watch how fast I go!"
He ran with his sled, belly flopped onto it, and flew down the slope. When he got to the bottom, he got off, waved, and PJ and Erik waved back. Next went PJ after him on the snowboard--and he didn't even fall off! After Erik had gone down once, Billy wanted to try. He was too little to stand on it, but PJ and Erik showed him how to go down sitting, which he did, screaming with excitement.
Billy developed a great liking for Erik. While PJ worked with his snowboard, practicing turns, Erik gave Billy rides down the Hill going double on Billy's sled, with Erik holding Billy in front of him and Billy yelling, "Faster, faster." Then, PJ gave Billy rides while Erik tried the snowboard. PJ would flop on Billy's sled to get it going while Billy ran alongside, then Billy would flop on PJ's back and the two of them would fly down the Hill.
When other boys arrived at the Hill with their sleds, Billy joined into their races, and because he was lighter and had a new sled, he often won. He proved to be an intrepid snowball thrower as well, although in the skirmishes that occurred his young age and small size put him at a disadvantage. He compensated with hit-and-run tactics, packing up a few snow balls, waiting for a good opportunity to fire them for maximum effect, then racing back shrieking in excitement to seek shelter behind PJ and Erik, yelling, "Don't let them get me! Don't let them get me!"
The Gordonsville kids, nearly all of them from the swim team, accepted Billy because he was PJ's friend and most gave him rides on their sleds. A few of the older boys on the Upper School Varsity had brought a toboggan and let Billy sit up front as they whizzed down the slope. When they all got hungry and trudged back to the campus at lunchtime, the older kids helped PJ and Erik sneak Billy into the Dining Hall so he could eat with them. After lunch, they went back to the Hill for more fun. When other boys began admiring PJ's new snowboard for the first time and Erik told everyone how it was PJ's Christmas gift from Jack, Billy kept boasting to anyone who would listen that "Jack Canon came to my house." Billy was convinced that he was having the greatest adventure in the world!
"It's so incredible that you know that guy," one of the Varsity swimmers told PJ while he was examining the board and running a palm over its shiny surface. "Jack Canon is like . . . like . . ."
PJ, thrilled by this attention and in his own way having as big an adventure as Billy, tried to keep it casual, and simply nodded. "Yeah. Jack is pretty cool. We've sort of been friends for a long time."
An' that's true! he assured himself. I really have been friends with Jack for a long time. It's only that he just found out.
By mid-afternoon, although the sky was still clear and the sun still bright, the wind had obviously taken its toll on Billy, who tugged at PJ's sleeve and said in a forlorn tone of voice, "I'm cold." PJ looked at him and could tell he was getting tired. He signaled to Erik and the three of them trudged back to the House, where PJ begged hot cocoa from Mrs. Williamson and they all sat in her kitchen getting warm again and recounting all the day's excitement. Afterwards they went upstairs to play video games on the computers, Erik and PJ letting Billy win most of the games since he was youngest. Billy was fascinated by all the things in the room, particularly by the big Jack Canon poster. When he saw it, he pointed and told Erik, "That's PJ's dad." PJ and Erik both laughed, PJ a bit nervously, and he hastily corrected, "Naw, he's just my friend."
As it began to get dark outside, PJ went down and called Billy's father. After the three boys played one more round of video games, they went downstairs to wait for Mr. Thatcher, running up to the car when he arrived. He got out, picked up his little son, and gave him a hug.
"Did you have a good time, Billy?"
"Oh yeah!" Billy said happily. "PJ and Erik taught me how to snowboard and I won all the races!"
"Well! I'll say that sounds like a good time! Do you think we should take PJ and Erik out for a pizza?"
"Pizza!" Billy crowed happily. PJ and Erik's faces broke into huge grins.
"Come on boys," said Billy's dad. "It's on me."
So the day ended very successfully, with all of them around a table at Pizza Hut devouring a big special. Mr. Thatcher grinned at PJ. "It was real nice of you boys to do this today for Billy. He's stuck all the time with those sisters of his and he's told me often that he wished he had an older brother. It's probably a good thing for him to know you two."
PJ looked at Erik and they both laughed. "It's fun for us to know him, too," Erik said.
Mr. Thatcher got Erik's basketball schedule from him. "I'm already planning to take Billy to some of PJ's meets," he said as he wrote the dates on a napkin. "I think we'll go to a few of your games, too."
"Make sure you come to this one," PJ said, pointing. "Guess who's coming to visit that day?" He grinned at Billy.
The young boy stared for a moment, and then his entire face lit up. "Jack! It's Jack, ain't it! Awesome!" He turned to his father. "Daddy! We gotta go to that one. Jack's gonna be coming to see Erik play!"
As Mr. Thatcher laughed and nodded a "yes," Billy looked up at PJ again. "Can we sit with you? Like right with you an' Jack? PJ, it'd be so neat!"
"Sure, you'll sit with us," PJ assured him. "We'll all cheer for Erik together."
"I'll tell my dad to look for you," Erik said. "He's coming too."
"Tell him we'll be at the front of the Field House, waiting," Mr. Thatcher told him. He ruffled his son's hair and added, "This is going to be fun, huh?"
"Awesome!" Billy crowed again.
When Mr. T. dropped them off at the House, the place was swarming with returning students and their parents. PJ and Erik greeted all their friends and excitedly exchanged stories of holiday adventures. Some of the other boys had taken exotic vacations. One had gone skiing in the Swiss Alps and another had spent Christmas in Tahiti. All the returning students wanted to hear about Jack Canon's Christmas visit to PJ. Most knew about Jack signing with the Red Sox and that there was speculation about the upcoming season and the Sox's chances for a World Series. When he was asked his opinion, PJ just shook his head and replied, "Jack and I haven't talked about it." But then he added proudly, "You can ask him about it yourself next time he comes. He'll be here to see me again in another few weeks."
In the House that night, long after light-out, boys were still awake, silently tip-toeing between rooms to visit friends, whispering about the vacations just past or making plans for the upcoming term. Neither Erik nor PJ was one of them. Worn out from a day of outdoor fun, both had gone to bed early and lay motionless under their covers in the glow of PJ's little night light. >From the hallway came muffled laughter, the telling sound of boys returning from some midnight excursion. PJ muttered something and turned over without waking. No noises in the night would disturb him. Temporarily, the shadowy things that lurked in the recesses of his thoughts had retreated, pushed away by the brightness of Erik's friendship, Jack's latest e-mail, and Billy's joyfulness.
He slept. Soundly.
Once classes began on Monday, everyone was swept up into the excitement of a new term. With all their activities, PJ and Erik never had to worry about being bored. They had most of their classes together, and in between, they raced through the lunchtime meal so they would have time to go to the Field House and work on the baseball wall for at least half-an-hour.
After classes were over in the afternoon, sports practice began. Three or four times a week, Erik would join PJ for weight training. Then Erik would leave for basketball and PJ would go to the pool. After dinner, both boys did their homework and read until bedtime. It was a schedule that made for full days.
The weekends were just as busy. PJ and Erik attended each other's basketball games and swim meets, both doing their share of sitting in the stands cheering and taking notes. If no contests were scheduled, there were Saturday practices and wall ball always figured in their plans. Every Saturday or Sunday, in fact, the boys tried to get in at least one long session on what they called "Jack's wall." If there was enough snow, they spent hours practicing on PJ's snowboard, and on weekends, PJ, usually with Erik too, always tried to spend some time with Billy. The little boy lived for their visits. "You're all he talks about," his mother told PJ.
Every night before going to bed, PJ sent an e-mail to Jack, usually just a short note of a few sentences giving Jack some of the interesting things that had happened that day. About once a week Jack sent an email back. PJ was always happy to get it, but he was disappointed that Jack so rarely put anything personal in his messages. Moreover, he had some mixed feelings about Jack's next visit, feelings he hated himself for even having. I remember what Jack said on Christmas Day. Is he really coming to see me, or is he coming because of Erik? And why should I be unhappy if it was Erik?
Still, as the weekend for the visit approached, PJ could barely contain himself. He had so much to tell Jack! So much to show him! But the night before, with more snow falling outside beyond his window, he almost couldn't sleep worrying that Jack might get stuck somewhere and not be able to come. On Saturday morning, he posted himself at the common room window, staring out uneasily at the freshly-plowed parking area, praying that Jack would appear.
Jack did! He drove in right after breakfast, and the moment PJ spotted him, he was off like a shot, racing outside and down the front sidewalk, ready to greet him as he opened the car door.
"Hi ya, PJ!" Jack got out and put an arm around PJ's shoulders. "What's the schedule today, Tiger?"
"Erik's basketball game against Hagerton starts at 10:30!" In his excitement, PJ's words came tumbling out. "I got practice I gotta go to now. But Coach is gonna finish early so we can all go root for Gordonsville. Bill will be coming soon and Erik's upstairs resting." PJ glanced at Jack with an anxious expression. "If you'd rather, you can stay here with Erik and wait for Bill if you want. It's kinda boring just watching me practice."
Jack hugged him around the shoulders. "I'm here to see you, PJ. Not them. Of course I'm coming to watch you practice."
Yes! PJ beamed up at the tall ballplayer. He hoped everyone was watching through the windows, seeing him standing with Jack's arm around him. Jack isn't here for just a basketball game, or to see anyone else. Jack's here to see me!
"I'll get my stuff, Jack," he said proudly. "I'll be right back!"
He raced upstairs to his room. "Jack's here!" he told Erik breathlessly. "He's taking me to swim practice an' then we'll be at the game. He says `good luck' and so do I. You'll hear us cheering for you." Erik barely had time to yell "Thanks!" before PJ had grabbed his swim bag and was off back down the stairs. Now that Jack was here, PJ didn't want him to get away.
Chattering happily on their walk to the Field House, dodging men with snow blowers who were clearing the paths, PJ told Jack about his classes, his chemistry project in Science, his book report on Kim, and about the new "Flight Simulator" game. When he started in about the snowboard, he was almost beside himself. "It's so-o-o awesome, Jack," he bubbled. "I can go down the Hill almost all the time without falling an' I can make it turn back and forth and everything!" He looked around and couldn't believe they were at the Field House already. "Oh man!" he complained. "I got so much more to tell you!"
Jack laughed and pushed him toward the stairs. "I'm not going anywhere. You get in there and show me what you can do in the water!"
PJ tried his best to have a good workout since Jack was watching. Coach Bernard was giving them more challenging drills now: a mix of pulling and kicking drills, sprints, and then timed distance swims. PJ always pushed himself hard in practice, but this time he went even harder than usual, achieving a state he only occasionally reached, a near trance of pure physical exertion. He felt completely in touch with his body, almost as if he were flying through the water rather than swimming in it. His coach noticed and gave him a pat on the fanny afterwards. "Nice one, PJ," he said.
Eyes shining with excitement, PJ ran over to where Jack was sitting. "How did I look?"
The ballplayer smiled and
slowly shook his head. "Man oh man, Tiger. You are really in shape. No
wonder you almost killed me with that workout in
"See, I'm wearing the practice suit you gave me." PJ wanted to be sure Jack had noticed.
Jack nodded. "You know, you look a little stronger than the last time I saw you."
"That's the weights, and all the extra workouts," PJ told him proudly.
"Well, it's something." Jack reached over and squeezed PJ's shoulder. "Why don't you change up. I'll wait right here for you." PJ got dressed in record time and came back out to the pool to find Coach Bernard and Jack talking. "He sure is that, all right," Jack was saying. He looked at PJ and asked, "All set?"
PJ nodded. Eagerly he took Jack by the elbow, telling him, "Come on, I'll show you the shortcut to the basketball court."
"Good to see you again, Mr. Canon," Coach Bernard called as they went off.
PJ led Jack through the
locker room, out into the basement corridor under the stands, and around the
corner up a flight of steps. They emerged into the huge interior of the Field
House to find the great vaulted gym blazing with lights and players from both
teams warming up on the court. A klaxon sounded several times as the officials
tested the scoreboard. Jack stared around in wonder. "I just can't get over
this facility you kids have here. It's a regular
A crowd of several hundred was gathered for the game, a mixed group of parents and students from both schools, along with friends and relations, teachers, and people from town. PJ saw Bill waving to them. Beside him sat Billy and his father. The moment the little boy spotted them, he was up waving too, yelling, "Jack, PJ!"
PJ saw other heads turn while he and Jack climbed to their seats. There was excited murmuring and finger-pointing as people recognized the star ballplayer. A few started applauding, then a few more. Within moments everyone in the arena was on his feet wildly cheering and clapping. With a big grin for the benefit of the crowd, Jack put an arm around PJ's shoulders, waved, and leaned down to say, "Looks like we got some customers."
PJ was bursting with pride. Everyone could see him standing there with Jack. He'd never felt so good in his life!
Jack kept waving until the applause died down. Then he and PJ climbed the rest of the way to reach their seats. Billy scrambled over, wild with excitement. "Jack, Jack, everyone was clapping for you! PJ, look, there's Erik." PJ turned his head and saw his roommate grinning and waving down on the court. PJ and Billy waved back, while Jack was warmly greeted by Bill and Mr. Thatcher. As the three men talked, PJ and Billy watched Erik warm up, and PJ explained to Billy what to watch for when the two teams started play.
"I like to watch him jump," Billy said. "He has to jump high `cause he's not as big as those other kids."
PJ explained to Billy that he and Erik were only eleven and that this was Erik's first year on the team. "He's just a substitute player, Billy. So he might not play the whole game. But he'll get bigger and so will I, you'll see. Someday Erik will be the best on the team."
"You guys are gonna be stars!" Billy confidently declared.
Some kids and a few adults were already lining up in the aisle for Jack's autograph. PJ started to get out of the way, but Jack held him in his seat and said, "You stay right here with me." As he greeted the autograph seekers, Jack told them, "It's nice to meet you, and I'd like you to meet my friend PJ." Then PJ would shake hands too.
The game started almost
before PJ knew it. He leaned close to Jack so he could explain what was going
on and tell him who the Gordonsville players were. "That tall boy at
center is Peter. He's from the
"That's like eighth grade, right?" Jack asked.
PJ nodded. "Yes. Then that other boy there, that's Mark. You met him at Christmas. He's on the swimming team with me."
"Oh yeah," Jack nodded.
"Erik's a substitute," PJ continued. "He won't get into the game `til later unless we get way ahead, which we won't because the coach told them this Hagerton team is good. Also, he's the youngest on our team. He and I were both the youngest on the football team, too," he concluded proudly.
Jack smiled. "You guys are the young studs all right."
Oh, an' that curly-haired kid is Toby. He's our starting guard, the seventh-grader Erik substitutes for. I don't know him, but Erik says he's a pretty good player, though he makes the coach mad `cause he fouls a lot.
Once the game started, it was a very close contest and the scores stayed almost even, with first one team and then the other taking the lead. Then late in the first half, Toby got himself into early foul trouble and PJ saw his roommate start pulling off his sweats. "Erik's coming in earlier than I thought he would!" PJ exclaimed. He turned to his little companion. "Look, Billy, Erik's getting ready to play!"
The horn sounded and Erik trotted onto the court to substitute at guard. "Ya-a-a-y, Erik!" Billy cried. The teams went up and down the court as the lead continued changing back and forth. PJ could see that his roommate was having a tough time with the bigger boy he was assigned to defend. But Erik stuck doggedly with his opponent and almost intercepted a pass. "Erik's doing pretty good, PJ," Jack remarked.
On the next exchange, Erik was on his man as a pass came. Again Erik almost intercepted. But this time the bigger boy was anticipating him. He shifted quickly, catching Erik a little off-balance, then drove past, putting an elbow into Erik's face as he went by on his way to a two-point lay-up.
"Hey! That big kid pushed Erik," Billy protested.
There were several whistles and catcalls from the crowd, but no whistle from the officials. Gordonsville brought the ball down court. The forwards tried a pick play that failed, but Gordonsville got the rebound and the ball shot around the court as it went from player to player. Erik took a pass just to the left of the key. He faked a handoff to the Gordonsville boy behind him and went up for a jumper. The big kid guarding him, suckered out of position by Erik's fake, rose up to block, saw he couldn't stop Erik's shot, and threw another elbow. Erik's shot went in, but he fell sprawling onto the court.
"Erik!" wailed Billy.
"He's okay, Billy," PJ reassured him. "Watch what he does."
This time the foul was obvious! The official's whistle blew and Erik was awarded a penalty shot. He got up off the floor and went coolly to the line, where he bounced the ball once before making a graceful foul shot that swished into the basket. Ya-a-a-y!" cheered Billy, along with the rest of the crowd. "Way to go, Erik!" PJ yelled. Erik waved as he came off the court. It'd been a nifty three-point play which had had drawn the home team within a point of Hagerton!
Erik came out after the next series. Toby reentered the game and played conservatively, anxious to avoid more foul trouble. But because of the foul committed on Erik, the big Hagerton kid playing opposite him had to be equally careful.
Going into halftime, Gordonsville was trailing by only two points, 21-23.
More people came during the break to see Jack and ask for his autograph, and Jack introduced every one of them to PJ. Since all eyes in the arena were on them, PJ felt great! He was sitting right next to Jack Canon and everyone, everyone, was looking at them! When the two teams came back onto the court for a quick warm-up before the second half, he even saw the players from the other school looking and pointing.
Jack put his arm around PJ, leaned close, and quietly said, "This is some game, huh, kid?"
"Yeah," PJ agreed. "Erik's doing good, too."
Jack nodded. "He's a good little player." Then he added with a grin, "Not as good as you are in swimming, though!"
PJ felt a delicious thrill of pride. He blushed and looked down at his hands. "Oh, I don't know."
"Yeah," Jack went on. "I was talking to your coach. He thinks you're the best kid your age he's ever had. I told him that I wasn't an expert, but that you sure looked good to me." Jack squeezed PJ's shoulders in a quick hug. "Hey! Wanna know what else I told him?"
"What?" PJ looked up, eyes shining.
Jack smiled down at him. "I told him I might not be an expert on swimming, but that I knew all about champions. And I told him that, for me, you'd always be my little champ." He gave PJ another quick hug.
The feeling those words gave PJ was so piercingly sweet that he had to close his eyes for a second. I could almost die right now, he suddenly thought, right now! And I wouldn't care. "Jack . . ." he started to say.
But just then, Bill leaned over and called, "Here they come, guys. I think Erik's going to start in the second half!"
"Erik's playing, PJ!" Billy shrilled.
The Gordonsville coach was starting Erik in the third quarter, obviously hoping to save foul-up Toby until he was needed. PJ knew that Erik would try to make the most of his opportunity. As play began, he watched his friend race up and down the court, pushing himself desperately to stay on the bigger, older boy he was assigned to guard. Sometimes he would get beaten, but Erik never gave up. With dogged determination, he did everything he could to make quickness and agility even the odds against him.
Once, when he had the ball, he executed a nifty fake-and-go that completely fooled his opponent. Erik drove for a jumper, made it easily, and got cheered by the crowd. "All right, Erik!" PJ yelled. He turned to Jack. "That's one I help him drill on."
Jack grinned and nodded. "Practice. Works every time!"
As the period went on, PJ became prouder and prouder of his roommate. Erik got beat now and then, but he played well enough for the coach to keep him in until the quarter ended. At that time Gordonsville was behind by six points, but Toby, when he re-entered at the start of the fourth quarter, had been given a good rest and, recharged with energy, ignited the offense. Within a few minutes the score had closed to 32-35, both teams still very much in contention. However, a flurry of lucky exchanges gave Hagerton an even bigger lift, so that going into the final four minutes, Gordonsville had fallen behind again, this time by five. "Oh, man, what a game!" PJ said to Jack. As loud as he could, he yelled, Come on, guys!
Toby now had four fouls and was forced to play defensively while his teammates tried desperately to claw their way back. Gordonsville got to within three points--then faltered and fell back six, 35-41. PJ and Billy were pounding their seats in frustration. Down at courtside, Erik and the other substitutes were up off the bench screaming encouragement at their team. The clock ticked on.
Then, thanks to a lay-up by Peter, their West Indian center, Gordonsville cut the Hagerton lead back to four. And when Hagerton brought the ball down from their end . . . there was a tip, a sudden scuffle . . . Toby streaked away on a fast break in the opposite direction . . . and made an easy unopposed lay-up! Score 39-41!
The clock ticked steadily down with less than a minute to go! "Come on!" PJ cried out. As if the Gordonsville offense had heard him, Peter whipped the ball to Mark at the top of the key, who hip-faked, drove past his man, and leaped into the air on a beautiful lay-up, making the basket! The Gordonsville crowd went wild. For the first time in the second half, they were even at 41-41!
Then disaster struck. There was a shove on a Hagerton opponent as he was in the act of shooting. A whistle sounded, and an official pointed at Toby. Toby had just fouled out. He hung his head in dejection, raised his arm, and trotted to the sidelines as the crowd silently watched. This was bad. Worse, the kid made the basket!
On the sidelines, the Gordonsville coach motioned to Erik, who was already pulling off his sweats. PJ stood up, his heart pounding in excitement as his roommate trotted out onto the court. Erik was re-entering the game! The damage had already been done, though. The Hagerton player sunk both of his foul shots. Numbers on the big electric scoreboard above the arena changed to 41-45, with less than thirty seconds to go!
When Gordonsville took the ball, the crowd came back to life as they brought it quickly across the line. Waiting for them was Hagerton, confident that in the time remaining there was no way they could lose. "Come on! Come on!" PJ shrieked, and as the clock ran down, it seemed as if everyone in the area, even Jack next to him, was on their feet chanting, "Gordonsville! Gordonsville! Gordonsville! The huge space rocked with noise. "Come on," PJ kept shrieking. They had to shoot and then try to steal the ball! Time was almost gone!
But Gordonsville couldn't find an opening. The defense was too tough. PJ saw Erik glance desperately at the clock. Ten seconds!
The ball came around to his roommate again at the side of the key. PJ saw his shoulders tense. "Go Erik!" PJ cried.
Erik did his little fake-and-go, almost catching his bigger opponent. But not quite. As he drove and made his jump shot, the bigger boy got a long arm up, flailing wildly in an attempt to block. With a desperate move, Erik managed somehow to one-hand the ball past the outstretched arm, propelling it in an arc toward the basket. The ball swished through the net as the older boy's arm caught Erik in the face and sent him sprawling to the floor. The crowd went berserk!
PJ was sure his friend had hit his head. "Erik!" He tried to push his way to the aisle so he could go down to him.
Jack held him back. "Hold on!" he said, "you can't help him from up here. Look! You see? They've got him. He's fine."
The referee was kneeling by Erik on the floor. PJ saw his friend nod and slowly rise to his feet as the crowd cheered. The ref took Erik to the foul line and spoke to him. Erik nodded again and the man held up two fingers. Erik was going to get two foul shots! If he made them, he could tie the game! The crowd began to chant, "Go! . . . Go! . . . Go! . . . Go!" and everyone stomped their feet. Beside PJ, Billy was jumping up and down screaming with excitement. PJ watched tensely as Erik bounced the ball and took a deep, steadying breath. "Come on, Erik. You can do it!" PJ whispered.
Erik lifted the ball and made his shot. It bounced up on the rim, and went through! Gordonsville was now only one point behind!
The noise in the huge arena was deafening! PJ could barely hear himself think. "Come on, Erik!" he screamed. "One more!" Just one more, Erik. You can even this game up!
Erik took the ball from the referee. The crowd went silent. A second before, the noise had been so great it shook the seats. Now you could hear a pin drop. Erik bounced the ball again, the sound of it echoing. PJ saw his friend take another quick glance at the clock. There were only seconds left. Jack's arm tightened around PJ's shoulder. "Watch this!" Jack whispered excitedly. "I think I know what he's going to try!"
Erik bounced the ball once more and stared intently at the basket. His shoulder tensed. Then, he made his shot. PJ's heart shot into his throat. The ball hit just a little wide of the hoop, bouncing away off the left rim.
PJ let out a cry of despair. His friend had missed!
The players waiting below the basket went for the rebound. But Peter grabbed the ball first, a ball which practically dropped right into his hands. He dribbled once and went for the lay-up. The defenders' reaching hands missed blocking the shot by micro-inches and the ball dropped into the basket for two points. Gordonsville jumped into the lead by one! The crowd once again went berserk. People were wildly cheering! Jack hugged PJ and yelled, "He did it! He did it! Erik put it right into his hands!" It was then that PJ realized that Erik had deliberately missed the foul shot. Instead he'd bounced the ball off the rim so Peter could get the rebound and attempt another field goal. He threw his hands into the air with glee! "Erik!" he cried, "way to go!"
The other team scrambled wildly to take the ball down court as the final seconds ticked off. The arena buzzer sounded . . . their forward hurled a desperation long-range shot at the basket . . . it came breathtakingly close to going in . . . but it bounced off the rim and dropped away. Gordonsville had won the game, 46-45!
The Gordonsville bench ran out onto the court and mobbed their team, the boys jumping and screaming with excitement. Peter and Erik were lost in a mob of admiring fans and players. Mr. Thatcher was holding Billy up so he could see over the heads of the people in front and the little boy was shrieking, "We won! We won!" In the next seat Bill was clapping and cheering with a huge smile on his face!
"Come on," PJ yelled to everyone, "let's go find Erik."
He and Jack led the others down the crowded aisle onto the arena floor and into a confused mob of excited players and fans. "Erik!" PJ shouted. He saw his friend and waved. Erik pushed his way through the crowd as PJ ran to him. They high-fived and hugged excitedly. "Great play, Erik!" PJ told him with a huge grin. "You were super!"
Erik was grinning from ear to ear.
Billy came running up shouting, "Erik, you won! You won!"
Bill found them, bent over Erik, and said something that PJ couldn't hear, but his roommate beamed and hugged his stepfather. Then Jack came up. "Nice game, kid," he said, shaking Erik's hand. "That last play of yours was something else. You took a big risk!"
Erik smiled sheepishly. "I had to try something. I knew we couldn't beat them in overtime."
Jack nodded in laughing agreement.
Erik turned to his stepfather. "Dad, the coach is taking the team out for hamburgers. You gotta bring everybody!"
"For a champion like you? Anything!" Mr. Fournier exclaimed.
After Erik got changed, everyone—Jack, PJ, Erik, Bill, Billy, Mr. Thatcher--all jammed into Bill's car, adults in front, kids in back. They formed a caravan with the other players and parents and headed for a local Burger King. Once there, PJ and Billy sat with Erik and the other Gordonsville players and scarfed down hamburgers and milkshakes while they all re-lived the game. Billy was so excited he almost forgot to eat.
When they got back to the school, the boys all wanted to show Jack and their parents how they could ride the snowboard. After PJ raced up to his room to get it, they made the long walk across the snowy campus, out beyond the sports fields to the Hill where the wind had driven fresh powder over the steep slope. PJ and Erik took turns showing how they could ride and turn the board. Then PJ and Erik took the board to the top again so little Billy could show how he could ride down the Hill sitting down. His father was waiting to give him a big hug when he got to the bottom. Jack smiled broadly and gave all three boys a pat on the shoulder. "You guys are doing great with this thing." He took the board from PJ and examined it thoughtfully. "Let's go up the Hill one more time."
While they were climbing up, PJ saw that Jack was checking the incline out carefully. There was a rocky hummock on one side that was buried in snow, creating a natural ramp. Jack eyed it. "All you fellows stand right here," he told them. Then he went alone the rest of the way to the top.
"What's he gonna do?" Erik asked. PJ shook his head. They watched as Jack put the board down, slid it a few times experimentally with his foot, firmly pushed off, and started back down. But not fast. Instead, he slalomed gracefully across the face of the slope, sending up a huge spray of snow. When he was positioned straight above the little hummock, he swiveled his body effortlessly and arrowed down, now picking up tremendous speed. PJ marveled at how easy Jack made everything look. The snowboard seemed to be a natural extension of his body. Flashing over the hummock, Jack went high into the air, did a back-twisting flip with thrilling grace, and landed perfectly. He slalomed down the rest of the slope and made a final one-eighty turn to stop, throwing up a cloud of powder.
For a moment PJ was too stunned for words!
"Wow!" Erik gasped.
Then they were all clapping, cheering, and running down the Hill to where Jack stood with the board. PJ got to Jack first and gave him a high five. "How was that, PJ?" Jack said, grinning.
"Jack! That was totally awesome!" PJ looked up, his eyes shining. "It's like the stuff you see on TV!"
Jack put his arm around the boy's shoulders and gave him a hug.
"Jack, Jack!" Billy was shouting. "Do it again! Do it again!"
"Nope," Jack told him, laughing, "once is my limit." He shook hands with Bill and Mr. Thatcher and tousled Erik's hair. "Listen, guys," he said, "don't tell anybody you saw me do that. If the Red Sox ever found out I'd been fooling around like this, they'd kill me." He looked down at PJ's upturned face and gave the boy's shoulders another squeeze. "I just wanted PJ to see that one time."
They all walked back to campus, laughing and talking, the boys running to and fro in excitement, throwing snowballs. Mr. Thatcher said he and Billy had to leave, and the two of them drove off after promising to come to more games. Erik led Bill away so he could show his stepfather a project he was working on in Science. PJ and Jack were left alone.
"What d'ya say we just walk around and talk a little, PJ," Jack said. They strolled through the brisk, sunshiny winter afternoon, PJ talking happily, telling Jack all about his activities and classes. He related with pride how his swimming times kept improving. "I've done all best times in both our last two meets." Jack had read about most of these things in PJ's daily e-mails, but he listened patiently without saying anything. The boy so obviously enjoyed sharing all his little accomplishments with him. PJ went on to tell about his class work. "Erik and I are having a contest to see who can get the best grades. We're tied so far. We both aced all our midterms." He looked up with a beaming smile, hoping that Jack appreciated how well he was doing. To PJ, it seemed as though he did.
By this time, they'd made a circle around the school Quad all the way back to PJ's House. "What about this wall ball you and Erik are doing?" Jack asked. "How's that coming?"
"Oh, we're doing great on that, Jack," PJ said excitedly. "Except Erik still beats me at it. Do you want to see?"
"Why don't we play a little," Jack suggested.
"Yeah!" PJ raced up to his room to get his glove and baseball. He took Jack to the Field House and went through the now-deserted arena to the far wall that he and Erik used for practice.
"Just go ahead and play the game with me," Jack told him. "Same as you do with Erik."
"But you don't have a glove," PJ pointed out.
Jack smiled. "That's okay. You just go ahead."
PJ fired the ball at the wall to start the game and was amazed at the way Jack moved to field it. He was so graceful. He seemed to float rather than run. Time after time he scooped the ball with his bare hand and threw back to the wall, all with no apparent effort. When he finally picked up the ball and held it to stop the game, he wasn't even breathing hard, while PJ was panting and sweating. "Jack!" PJ said in awe, "you are good!"
Jack gave a little chuckle. "Well, look PJ. I mean, this is what I do for a living."
PJ blushed and looked confused. "I guess that was a really dumb thing for me to say."
Jack stepped quickly to him and lifted his head. "No," he said kindly, "it was a nice compliment and I'm proud to have it. You're a lot better at this game than the last time I saw you. All the practice is paying off. Now, I want to show you a few things. . . ."
Jack worked with PJ for over an hour, improving his technique and showing him how to set up for different plays. "Concentrate on making the play first," he told PJ over and over, "then set up for your throw. Don't rush. The speed comes naturally with time and practice. Don't force it."
When they finished, they went outside and walked some more. PJ was quiet now. He ambled along at Jack's side in a little daze of happiness, perfectly content just to be in Jack's company. He put his hand up and held Jack's coat sleeve. When they came around past the Chapel, Jack led them over to one of the broad stone steps where they could sit down. He put an arm around PJ's shoulders and the boy leaned against him. They sat quietly for awhile--until Jack broke the silence. "PJ?" he asked. "Do you miss your parents?"
PJ nearly went into shock. The question was so unexpected that it was like having a bucket of ice water thrown over him. He had no idea how to answer. While he attempted to control his reaction, he tried desperately to find something to say that wouldn't sound too stupid. Did he miss his parents? In a way he had been missing them all his life. Almost every day he had wanted them to come and find him. But in another way, he didn't miss them at all. How can you miss people you never knew?
He had to say something, so he decided to just admit a simple truth. "Not anymore," he told Jack hesitantly. He leaned closer and put an arm around Jack's waist.
Jack cleared his throat. "Yeah, well . . . I just thought I'd ask." He seemed embarrassed. "I mean, you never talk about them and I just thought that, you know, you might want to or something."
PJ shook his head.
"Sure," Jack said. "I mean, that's cool. If you ever want to, I'll be right here." He reached down and got PJ's glove. "You've had this glove for awhile, haven't you?"
"Three years." PJ was grateful they had changed the subject. He was still reeling from Jack's first question.
"You've taken very good care of it."
"I use neat's-foot oil," PJ told him in a small voice.
Jack nodded. "How did you learn about that?"
"I had a coach who showed me. He was the one who gave me my glove."
Jack looked at him curiously. "You're coach got the glove for you? How come?"
PJ took the glove back from Jack and caressed it. "I asked him to," PJ said. "I didn't have one and the other boys did so I gave him money for one and he went and got it for me."
Jack shook his head in wonder. "PJ," he asked, "how did you get interested in baseball?"
PJ stroked the pocket of his glove. Finally, he answered in a very soft voice, "I was . . . at a sort of camp," he said. He paused for a bit, and went on, "It was one of the things I learned."
"Like football and swimming?"
PJ nodded. "And soccer. But I always liked baseball best." He caressed his glove some more. "There was this lady I knew. I told her about how much I liked it and she made them sign me up for a program."
"And that's when you got the glove," Jack said.
PJ nodded.
"It looks like it's getting a little small for you."
"I still like it." PJ held his glove protectively.
It means a lot to you?
PJ nodded.
"Then you should keep using it and caring for it," Jack told him. "I've had my old fielder's glove for at least that long."
"Really?" PJ looked up with interest.
"Oh, yeah. I'm superstitious about it, too. I always put it a certain way in my bag. And when I'm on a hitting streak, I always oil it exactly the same way, starting with a certain spot."
PJ smiled. "I do stuff like that."
They were silent for awhile. Then Jack said, "PJ, you know I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable with that question about your parents."
"I know.
"It's just that, well, you never talk about it. I mean about the accident and their dying and everything. I thought, maybe, since we're friends you might want to talk about it to me. That's all. I just wanted you to have the chance to do it if you wanted to."
PJ nodded.
"Now don't dummy up on me again," Jack said with a smile.
PJ squirmed a little and laughed nervously. "Okay, I won't."
"When I lost . . ." Jack hesitated and started again. "Well, when something really bad like that happened to me, I found it helped to talk about it. I just want you to have the same chance, that's all. So, when I ask questions like that, that's just my dumb way of giving you a chance to talk if you want, see?"
PJ nodded once again. Then, as Jack looked at him questioningly, PJ gave a little shrug and said, "I know, Jack. I don't mind the questions if it's you."
They were both quiet again for a bit until PJ asked in a very gentle voice, "Do you miss them?" He glanced at Jack. "I mean your wife and your . . ." his voice trailed off. "I'm sorry, Jack."
Jack looked straight ahead. "It's okay. Fair's fair. I asked first." He sighed. "Yeah, I miss them. I wasn't the best husband and father in the world, that's for sure. Maybe I should've spent more time with them. But I miss them all right. Even now."
PJ put his arm further around Jack's waist. "Jack?" he asked quietly, "you meant it, didn't you? What you told my coach?"
"What was that, PJ?" Jack said absently.
"About my being your little champ?"
"Oh, yeah," Jack smiled and gave PJ's shoulders a quick hug. "Of course I meant it, PJ."
"That's okay then." PJ nestled happily against him. "You can ask me any questions you want, anytime."
Jack chuckled. "Okay, champ. Then I've got one for you. When is your next meet?"
"We have one on Thursday," PJ told him, "but that's not the one you're supposed to come to. Unless you want to, that is." He looked up at Jack hopefully.
"Thursday's out," Jack told him. "I've got to be other places then. When's the one I'm supposed to come to?"
"The
big overnight one at the end of the month in
"Oh yeah. I remember. That's on my schedule in the computer."
"That's gonna be neat, Jack. We're gonna
win `cause we can beat that school, and afterwards we're all goin' to the
"I'll be there, PJ. Don't worry. I've got it marked. I just hope I don't get lost finding that school. Say, listen, PJ. There's something you better be prepared for that day."
"What?"
Jack shook his head and
looked down at him. "You better be prepared to see reporters at that meet.
We've been lucky so far. There was that article about you and me when you came
to
"That's okay," PJ said.
"It won't be okay if they start trying to use you for news and asking a lot of nosy questions," Jack explained. "But I know almost all of them. I ought to. The bast . . . that is, the bums practically live in my pocket during the season."
PJ giggled at this.
"I'll talk to them and tell them to lay off you," Jack continued. "So don't get nervous if you see them there. Just smile and be nice to them. They may take a picture, but I'll see to it that they don't bother you, okay?"
"Okay," PJ said. "Jack?"
"Yeah."
"Thanks. I wouldn't like it if people asked a lot of questions."
"I know that," Jack told him seriously. "And they won't. I'll take care of it. You don't need to worry."
"Jack?" PJ asked again.
"What?"
"You're going with me to the Planetarium, aren't you?"
"Absolutely!" Jack gave the boy a playful punch on the shoulder. "PJ, not only am I going, I am confidently expecting you to teach me all the names of the stars. That, after showing me how an expert swimmer swims. Remember when Bill called Erik his "champion"? Well, you happen to be my champion. My Little Champ!"
* * *
CONCLUSION OF INSTALLMENT NINE
Editor Paul K. Scott's e-mail: paulkdoctor@gmail.com