Rebound

by Kwame Alexander

  Y’all skipped school without me?

  Sorry, CJ, I say.

  It’s not like you would’ve come with us, Skinny says.

  True, but a girl likes to be asked.

  I can’t wait for gym today. We’re playing ball, and I’m showing up and showing off.

  You’re always showing off, Skinny. You’re a ball hog.

  Am not.

  Charlie, what’s the difference between Skinny and time? she asks.

  I don’t know, CJ, I say.

  Time passes, she says, and

  I laugh

  so hard,

  I almost spit out

  my chocolate milk.

  In preschool

  CJ would

  knock down

  my ABC blocks

  then take them

  and spell

  words

  nobody recognized,

  sometimes not even

  the teachers.

  One day

  she spelled

  FRIENDS,

  then pointed

  at me.

  We’ve been

  tight as twins

  ever since.

  Things I Think About in Gym Class

  Why don’t they have air conditioning in our gym?

  Why does Skinny pull his socks way up past his knees?

  CJ jokes on Skinny a lot.

  My dad said that when a girl picks on you, it means she likes you.

  I hope Mr. Johnson doesn’t call on me to play in this stupid game.

  Unlucky

  Mr. Johnson

  picks me

  to play

  in the first game.

  The ball feels

  heavy

  and strange

  in my hands.

  I stand there

  dribbling,

  listening

  to my name

  being called

  over and over:

  CHARLIE, PASS THE BALL!

  I stand there

  wishing.

  Wishing

  I was . . .

  Lucky

  Midgame,

  the fire alarm

  goes off.

  I drop

  the ball

  and we quickly

  line up

  to exit

  the gym.

  Chills

  We haven’t had a drill since before

  Christmas, so when the fire trucks

  arrive with their ghostly

  sirens, I start sweating,

  shaking, and feeling

  sick in my gut

  like it’s the

  ninth of

  March.

  Yo, Charlie, you all right?

  Everything blurs.

  My ears ring

  with the sound

  of sirens

  and Skinny screaming,

  HIT ’IM ON THE BACK!

  and CJ screaming back,

  HE’S NOT CHOKING, STUPID!

  I feel my face boil

  and then a geyser

  of peanut butter

  and chocolate milk

  shoots out

  all over

  the sidewalk

  in front of

  my whole class.

  Use your magnet on that, CJ, Skinny says,

  which kinda makes me laugh,

  even though

  I really wanna cry.

  Queasy

  Thanks for coming with me to the nurse, guys.

  We’re the Three Amigos, that’s how we roll, Skinny says.

  The Two Amigos plus one Amiga, CJ corrects.

  I feel a little better now.

  It was probably the chocolate milk that messed up your stomach. It tasted like it had a fizz.

  It wasn’t the milk, CJ says.

  You don’t know that, CJ.

  The brain and the stomach are tightly linked. Studies have shown not only that the mind has an effect on the gut, but—

  Speak English, girl, Skinny says.

  When you get real nervous, your brain sends a signal to the stomach. He’s probably still thinking about what happened. Aren’t you, Charlie?

  . . .

  CJ, for somebody with book sense, you don’t have any common sense. We’re not supposed to talk about that, remember?

  Sorry, Charlie.

  . . .

  After School

  The note

  on the refrigerator

  that reads

  Had to work a second shift

  at the hospital. Finish your homework.

  Dinner’s in the oven. Put your dishes away,

  then call your grandmother

  and say happy birthday. And

  don’t forget to put the trash out.

  Love, Mom

  is like an invitation

  to fun

  and freedom.

  I mean, I know

  she didn’t say

  I could go

  outside and play,

  but she didn’t say

  I couldn’t either,

  plus we finished

  our tests last week,

  and, with two days left,

  the teachers don’t

  really give

  homework

  anymore.

  After not eating

  the meat loaf

  and baked potato

  and broccoli,

  I call Skinny

  but he’s at the court,

  so I ring CJ

  to see

  if she wants

  to play video games

  or walk the block

  (or study, I guess)

  but She’s not home,

  her dad reminds me:

  She’s on an overnight trip

  to Columbia University

  in New York

  to be interviewed

  for junior inventors camp.

  So I read.

  An hour later,

  my doorbell rings.

  Nine times.

  Conversation (at my front door)

  Heard you were looking for me.

  Just seeing if you wanted to hang out.

  We were at the court.

  Y’all win?

  We didn’t finish. We were losing, then Ivan got in a fight, he says, pointing to the end of my driveway, where his older cousin, Ivan, stands.

  Oh.

  Come on, Skinny, or I’m leaving you! Ivan hollers from the street.

  Hey, Charlie, me and Ivan are going to the store. C’mon, go with us.

  Nah, I gotta stay home.

  We can get some Now or Laters.

  I used all my money on comics.

  I got you.

  Maybe, but we gotta be quick. My mom gets home soon.

  Hey, Charlie, can you run in those busted sneakers?

  Ivan hollers.

  Huh? Yeah, I can run, I say to him, grabbing my key and shutting the front door.

  Just come on then, punk, he says, grinding his teeth like a pit bull.

  Ivan

  used to be

  pretty cool

  and fun

  to be around

  till he started

  smoking

  and hanging out

  with a group

  of delinquents

  he met

  in juvie.

  On our way to Quik-Mart

  Ivan the Terrible stops

  at the fence

  behind

  Old Lady Wilson’s.

  Why are we stopping? I say. She could be watching us.

  She’s asleep, punk.

  Ivan shares

  his theory

  that old people

  take naps at five o’clock

  every day

  right before dinner,

  so they

  can stay up late

  and watch

  The Johnny Carson Show.

  That’s stupid.

  H
e’s right, Charlie. My grandparents nap. The old guy next door to us naps.

  I been casing this joint for weeks, y’all, Ivan says.

  He’s been watching too much TV, I say to Skinny, who nods.

  I got a plan. Y’all know those bottles she keeps in those boxes on her porch?

  Yeah, Skinny says.

  Once a month, some guy comes and picks up the boxes, Ivan continues.

  Yeah, so?

  Last month he didn’t come, so there’s two months’ worth of boxes out there.

  And?

  The Quik-Mart pays ten cents a bottle.

  SO YOU WANNA STEAL HER SODA BOTTLES?

  Shhhhh! You’re gonna blow our cover.

  I’m not stealing nothin’. Especially from Old Lady Wilson. She’s got a shotgun.

  That’s a rumor. Plus, she’s asleep. Now come on let’s do this, Skinny says.

  I’m not stealing those bottles.

  Charlie, stop being a wimp. She’s not gonna miss those bottles. The guy probably doesn’t even bring her back the money. We can get some Funyuns and a Slurpee.

  Good luck, I’m outta—

  But, before I can say

  no again,

  Ivan says,

  Come on, Skinny,

  and takes off

  like a ninja

  with Skinny

  right behind him.

  They grab

  the boxes,

  run back

  toward me

  yelling

  RUN! RUN, CHARLIE!

  So I run,

  and don’t stop

  until

  we get to

  the Quik-Mart.

  The Loot

  We cash in

  sixty-two bottles,

  then I head home

  with my loot,

  making sure

  to take

  the long way

  to avoid

  loaded shotguns.

  Interruption

  I’m almost done

  reading about shape-changing

  aliens trying

  to conquer the earth

  when Skinny calls.

  Yo, that was kinda fun, he says.

  Yeah, for you maybe, I answer.

  Whatchu doing?

  I can’t really talk, Skinny, I say, wanting to get back to my comic. I’ll see you tomorrow, Skinny.

  Nope, you won’t, he says.

  You skipping again?

  Nah! Got caught bouncing my ball in the hallway. In-school suspension.

  Dag.

  I drift off

  finishing

  issue #2,

  where the Skrulls

  impersonate

  the Fantastic Four

  and wonder

  if that’s what’s happening

  to me,

  ’cause I just don’t feel

  like myself.

  Alarm

  Instead of

  the sound

  of music

  I wake to

  the sound

  of my mom

  growling

  and staring

  at me

  with the eyes

  of a tiger.

  WAKE UP, CHARLIE!

  Huh?

  She cuts

  the lights on.

  It’s like a super laser beam

  aimed right at me.

  WAKE UP, I hear her screaming.

  Wha—what’s going on?

  What’s this? she asks, holding up an empty bag of Funyuns.

  What’s what, Mom?

  I found this in the trash.

  The trash? Can you cut those blinding lights off, please?

  GET. UP! she screams again, this time pulling the covers off me.

  MOM, it’s like four-thirty. In the morning.

  IF YOU WANT TO MAKE IT TO 4:31, YOU BETTER TELL ME WHAT THIS IS!

  . . .

  Interrogation

  I’m waiting.

  It was just Funyuns, I say, wishing I had remembered to put out the trash.

  It wasn’t JUST Funyuns. I made your favorite meat loaf, but I come home to find dinner still in the oven, two dozen candy wrappers and this junk food in the trash can that I know I asked you to put out. I know this, because it’s on the note I found in the trash can.

  . . .

  Where’d you get the money from?

  Money for what?

  For the dinner you got from Quik-Mart.

  Huh?

  Charlie, don’t mess with me. I asked you a question.

  I had it left over from lunch.

  That’s a lie. You just asked me for lunch money two days ago, remember? You took lunch, so what’s the deal, Charlie? Tell me the truth, or else.

  Or else what? I say, wondering how that slipped out.

  And wishing it hadn’t.

  Trouble

  I remember

  my father spanking me

  when I was little,

  but the most

  my mother ever did

  was raise her voice.

  Until now.

  Her hand

  is like

  a razor-sharp claw

  about to slice

  the air lightning fast

  in the direction

  of my face,

  but I duck

  before the blast

  almost rips

  my head off.

  The Truth

  OKAY, OKAY, Mom, I say, frantically. I kinda

  borrowed some

  Coke bottles

  from Mrs. Wilson

  and returned them

  to the store

  and used the refund

  to buy snacks

  and I’m sorry,

  REALLY, REALLY, SORRY,

  Mom,

  and I’ll never

  do that again

  is what I say.

  Put on your clothes and come downstairs is what

  she says, real soft-like,

  then walks out.

  Dead Man Walking

  I put on my shorts

  and hoodie,

  prepared to

  mop the kitchen floor,

  clean the garage,

  or whatever punishment chore

  she’s figured

  will make me a better person

  and whatnot,

  but when I get downstairs

  she’s got on her jacket

  with a purse

  on her arm

  and the front door is open

  and she’s standing

  on the other side

  of it,

  looking as mean

  as a prison dog,

  like she’s about to

  escort me

  to death row.

  The sky looks

  silvery blue

  and lifeless

  at FIVE A.M.

  and just when

  I get up the nerve

  to ask her

  why we’re walking

  beneath it—about

  twenty steps

  from my house—

  I find out.

  I. Find. Out.

  THIS. CAN’T. BE. HAPPENING!

  She makes me knock

  and right before

  my knuckles hit

  the front door

  for the third time

  it opens

  swiftly

  my teeth clench

  and I pray

  there’s not a witch

  or a warlock

  or a woman

  with a shotgun

  on the other side

  of the door.

  A very big dog

  marches toward me,

  head down,

  and I move, fast.

  Hide behind

  my mom.

  He almost knocks

  us both over, then

  sniffs us,

  till wicked Old Lady Wilson


  calls him back.

  She doesn’t look so scary

  in her pink housecoat

  lopsided wig

  and the false teeth

  she fumbles with

  before putting them in her mouth,

  smiling as wide as the sea,

  and saying Come on in, Charlie Bell

  like she’s been waiting

  for me.

  Mrs. Wilson, we’re not going to stay, my mom says. Like I said on the phone, my son has something he’d like to say to you.

  I do?

  Thought

  Her house

  smells

  like a cross

  between grass

  when it’s just cut

  and Skinny

  after gym class.

  Musty.

  Great Dane

  Her dog is

  a zebra—painted white

  with black patches—

  and HUGE.

  She rubs him,

  tells him

  to sit, and

  he’s about to

  when

  the whistling teapot

  startles him,

  and he interrupts

  my Sorry for stealing your bottles apology