Hooper

by Geoff Herbach

  Devin turns to Mr. Doig. He says, “You don’t know anything. You don’t care about us. You go ahead and ruin Khalil’s whole life just because being white and rich makes you think you have the keys to the damn world. But you don’t know anything, man.” Devin sighs hard, then jogs off the court and into the hallway where we came in.

  I look at Rashid. I look at Kyle Owens. I look up at all these people in the stands, some with phones ready to capture the jump, two with TV cameras, everyone stunned silent, because the main dude they came to see just ran off the court. I look at Devin’s dad. I look at Devin’s mom, who is glaring at Devin’s dad. I look at Renata. She is very confused. I love her. I look at Carli. She is smiling like Carli smiles. She knows. Her dad stands next to her. He nods at me.

  I look at Mr. Doig and say, “I’ve been through a lot. I’ve been treated unfair. I know what it smells like. This is unfair. I support Khalil.” I jog off the court toward the hall. Rashid follows me. So do Trey and Charlie and every player left on the Fury bench. And here’s the part I will never forget for as long as I am able to dribble a basketball. We are only in the hall for a few seconds when Kyle Owens and his cousin Joe, who ran me over in the playoff game and made me lose my mind, arrive. Then so do another Owens kid and the three blond boys from South Dakota. Everyone from both teams. In just a moment, we are all gathered in the hall next to the gym. We stare at one another. Stunned. We are quiet.

  “What do we do?” I ask Devin.

  Devin’s mouth hangs open. His eyes are so wide. Tears start to come up and run down his cheeks. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you, guys. Bring it in.”

  We move into a huddle. We put our hands together and hold on.

  “We gotta support each other like this our whole lives,” Devin says. “This time is for Khalil Williams. We will see him back on the court with us soon. Khalil on three. Farmer, you lead it.”

  I nod. “One, two, three, Khalil.”

  Khalil.

  I say it again: “Khalil.”

  Khalil.

  I say it again: “Khalil!”

  Soon after, I ride home with Renata, Professor Mike, and the girls. Not a single member of the Fury 17U team takes the bus. We all find different ways. I don’t know if we’ll ever play together again.

  Renata turns to me at the last stoplight before we leave Saint Cloud. “That is not what I was expecting. I don’t even really know what happened. But I think I’m proud of you.”

  “Yeah,” I say. I’m so tired. But I have to talk. “If you guys didn’t come with the Sobieski Hooper signs, I wouldn’t have had enough courage. Thank you.”

  “They are great artists,” Professor Mike says.

  “You are a good guy, too. I’m glad you don’t abandon us because of Barry.”

  He turns and looks at me. “No. I won’t.”

  “Renata, Barry is right. You are the best mom around. I like Sobieski back in my name, but I would like to be called Adam Sobieski Reed, because you’re my mom and I’m very proud that you’re my mom.”

  Renata turns and stares at me. She says, “You’re my son, okay? Forever.”

  I nod, and I am so happy again.

  “Remember when you all shouted ‘Khalil’ in the hall?” Regan says. “It echoed through the whole gym. They stopped all the other games. That was awesome.”

  It’s true. It was awesome. It was in news reports all over Minnesota, too.

  SIXTY

  BARRY IS NOT ALONE

  It is Sunday, about an hour before Barry Roland goes up for his second-degree black belt. Since the “game” the day before, all members of the Fury “community” received this email from Mr. Doig where he calls himself “we”:

  Dear members of the D-I Fury Community:

  Our intent is to help these boys and girls become the best young men and women they can be. Discipline is an important aspect of that training. We have always had a zero-tolerance policy for bad behavior. Each player signs a contract committing himself or herself to being good a citizen while they are members of this community. If they break this contract their position with the team is immediately terminated. Until now, we have never had reason to second-guess this policy.

  Before our 17U boys took it upon themselves to walk off the court to protest the way we treated the Khalil Williams situation, we felt sure we handled it the right way, operating in accordance with the written rules, even though several of the team’s coaches and advisors suggested this situation might be special.

  Because of the 17U boys’ protest, we have reviewed Khalil’s situation, and we do believe the police may have overstepped common sense with regard to Khalil. Khalil should not be charged with obstruction due to a case of mistaken identity. No crime was committed involving Khalil or his family as far as the record shows. The police were simply looking for someone else and Khalil was caught in the middle.

  We do want our boys and girls to know that we support them on and off the court. Not only does the Fury reinstate Khalil Williams immediately, we are also providing him with the services of a lawyer to make sure this unfortunate charge does not become a part of his permanent record. We have a long-standing relationship with Khalil, and we welcome him back with open arms.

  Please know that each and every one of our players has a special place in our hearts, and we will always attempt to do right by them.

  Sincerely,

  Karl J. Doig

  Executive Director

  D-I Fury Basketball

  Devin says the letter is bullshit. But I don’t think it’s bullshit. What Devin did made something that wasn’t fair become fair. I am thankful to Mr. Doig for doing right.

  Khalil is out of his mind with happiness. He is all over Twitter thanking us and the Owenses and all of the Minne-Kota boys. He is also saying again and again that he was never involved in a gang. Whoever suggested this about him and whoever repeated it should feel sad and ashamed for what they did.

  But now, I am thinking so hard. Look what Devin did. He had some big strength because his family and basketball gave it to him. TV news stations came to record him play! Maybe nobody cares about me like that in the state of Minnesota, but in Northrup? Maybe I can use my passport, my little strength, to save Barry from being expelled?

  How can I help my brother?

  Regan and Margery are in the living room with Barry. He looks healthier and happier wearing his karate uniform and his black belt and his headband. This morning, he didn’t want to get ready, but Regan and Margery were on him like flies. He could not stop them. The more they buzzed at him and said things like, “You are going to leap like a leopard, Master Barry,” the more he smiled and grew bigger and got a better color in his cheeks. Regan and Margery are forces of nature. They can climb the pine tree outside to its tip-top and swing back and forth. They can find a way onto the roofs of the college buildings. And they can grow your spirit and fortitude with their bare-knuckle buzzing. They are great. Now Barry is practicing his second-degree black belt form, which has eighty-two different moves and takes almost four minutes to complete. The girls are cheering for his every turn and kick, and I am back in my bedroom.

  How can I help?

  There is no Northrup game for me to stop, to say, “I won’t play basketball if you don’t let my furry pal Barry back in school!”

  That doesn’t seem like a good idea anyway. I want to play, so it’s not a real threat.

  Could I say I will transfer to Wauzeka to play with Ben Kowalski? “Fear the Cob! If you do not let Barry in school, I will join forces with the skinny Polish boy, and the Wauzeka Cobbers will beat you stupid for the next two years!”

  I wonder who I am going to say this to? The principal? The school superintendent? The school board? Who is on the school board? I don’t even know, but I picture businesspeople like Kase Kinshaw’s dad.

  Wait. What about Kase Kinshaw’s dad?

  He said how much he enjoyed watching me play basketball when Renata and I were at Patrick’s.
If I told him I was leaving school and Northrup basketball would be bad again without me, would he drop his petition to have Barry expelled?

  No. That’s stupid.

  He thinks Barry is a dog-shooting boy who beats up his son. Rick Kinshaw wouldn’t give up the safety of his Kase in exchange for my good basketball. The real trouble is, Rick Kinshaw doesn’t know the truth, the real Barry, the gentle boy.

  I wish I could get Kase’s dad to meet the real Barry. If he saw how good and pure-hearted Barry is . . .

  Maybe I could get Rick Kinshaw to go to Barry’s test today? If he saw Barry in action there, he would see the purest form of Barry there is! How could I get Kase Kinshaw’s dad to do that?

  I will make a threat! “I won’t play basketball in Northrup ever again if you don’t come see my boy Barry kick some wood in half!”

  Sounds like a crazy idea.

  Yes. So crazy.

  But what else is there? I take big, deep breath. I will have courage. I will try it.

  I call Carli to find out where Kase lives.

  “You’re going to go over to Kase’s house?” she asks. “Seriously?”

  I tell her why. She is not impressed by my logic.

  “Why do you think Mr. Kinshaw gives a crap about your basketball?”

  Because he said he did at Patrick’s!

  Kase lives outside of town, so I need a ride. Carli offers it. Problem? There is now only forty-five minutes before Barry’s test.

  On the way out the front door, I say to Renata and Professor Mike, “I’m going to see if Kase Kinshaw’s dad will come watch Barry do his test.”

  “Whoa. Wait,” Renata says.

  “Who?” Professor Mike says.

  “The father of the kid involved in the incident,” Renata turns to him and says.

  “Wow,” Professor Mike says. “I don’t know, pal.”

  “He doesn’t know Barry. This way he might know Barry and see that it is all crazy and wrong.”

  Renata looks sad. “He’s not going to come to Barry’s test, Adam. There’s no way.”

  “No. There’s a way. He likes my basketball playing, remember?”

  Carli pulls outside in her SUV. Regan shouts, “That girl is here.” I run between Barry and Margery and out the front door. Barry’s eyes are huge underneath his glasses.

  “You assist me so many times,” I say to Carli as I climb in.

  Carli blinks at me. She shakes her head. “We’re a good team. We’re good for each other.”

  “Dope,” I say.

  “Why do you say that all the time?” Carli shouts.

  We drive into the country.

  There is only a half hour to go before Barry’s test when we turn down a drive into the woods. There are tall pine trees on either side of the SUV and rocks and ravines heading up to the crest of a river bluff. The woods open into a big yard with a giant stone house in the center. It has large windows and a brick roundabout driveway.

  “This is a lot of money,” I say.

  “Kinshaw Construction builds a lot of stuff,” Carli says.

  Right then, Kase and his dad walk around the side of the giant house. Each is wearing a baseball cap and a flannel shirt. Each is carrying a big stack of wood in his arms. They both stop and watch as Carli’s SUV approaches.

  Carli pulls up next to them. “So?” she says to me.

  My heart is pounding. “I better talk, huh?” I say. I open the door and climb out.

  Kase blows air out of his mouth and looks to the side. His dad squints his eyes at me. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he says.

  “Yeah. Oh boy. I’m surprised to be here,” I say. “But it’s urgent, okay?”

  Kase looks at me. “What could you possibly want?” he says.

  “I want you . . . I mean, I want your dad to come to Barry Roland’s black belt testing today.”

  Mr. Kinshaw turns, walks three steps, and places the wood he was carrying onto a stack of wood next to their garage. Then he turns back to me. “And why would I do that? Barry Roland used his martial arts training to crack my son’s ribs.”

  I look at Kase, who is holding much heavy wood. He can’t be so injured, can he? I say, “If you go . . .” I want to say I will play basketball for Northrup next year, but it’s too ridiculous. Instead I say, “If you go, you’ll see how hard Barry is trying to be a better person. What happened last week was my fault, not his. He was only involved because he thought Kase was hurting me.”

  Mr. Kinshaw looks at Kase, cocks his head, shuts his eyes, then looks back at me. “Was Kase hurting you, Adam?” he asks.

  I take in a breath. Kase looks at the ground. What can I say? I choose not the truth, because I have bigger goals here. “No. No. Kase was just messing around. Barry misunderstood what was happening.”

  Kase looks back up.

  “The police reports said you and Kase were fighting, too,” Mr. Kinshaw says.

  “No. I think we were more joking, okay?” I say. “Witnesses didn’t get it.”

  “Really?” Mr. Kinshaw says.

  I nod. “Please, Mr. Kinshaw. Barry Roland is a very honorable guy. I want you to see him work. I want you to see how hard he tries. It will only take an hour.”

  “Maybe we should see what Barry is up to,” Kase says. He is staring at me.

  Mr. Kinshaw turns to his side. “Okay. We’ll do it.”

  Carli leans out of the window. “Hey. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  A moment later, I am sitting in the back seat of Carli’s SUV. Kase Kinshaw sits next to me. His dad is in the front with Carli. They are making small talk, but I can barely listen. Kase and I just cooperated to get his dad to see Barry do tae kwon do? What the crap?

  The parking lot in front of Bob’s Champion Tae Kwon Do Studio is completely full. In fact, there is not much parking nearby on the street. Carli pulls around the block and then we all walk quickly to make it on time.

  Regan and Margery both wear their 76ers shirts again. This must be our team shirt. I am wearing one, too. They have saved a seat for me next to Renata. I tell Carli and Mr. Kinshaw that I’ll go sit with them. I’m really doing this not because I don’t want to be by the Kinshaws, but because I don’t want to draw Barry’s attention toward Kase. What if Barry looks for me before he starts his pattern, sees Kase, then loses his concentration?

  All the seating around the mats up front is taken. There are people backed against the walls. Barry and the two others who are going for their belts must be warming up in another room. Bob, the owner, comes to the middle and introduces himself and then the grand master from Mankato, who is an old white tubby guy with a white beard like Santa Claus.

  Bob introduces the first test person. It is a woman who must be Renata’s age. She goes and does her pattern, which is like a dance. She bows. Then a couple guys in their karate suits stand and hold boards. The woman breaks these boards with different kicks and punches. One board she can’t break, so they swap it out with another board, because maybe it is defective. This next one she breaks, and then she bows, and everyone applauds. The Santa Claus grand master asks her some questions. She ends every answer with sir, just like she is talking to Mr. Doig. She has gained her blue belt. Everyone applauds loudly.

  Then a young kid with a pile of floppy hair that gets in his eyes, who is maybe in middle school, does his thing. It is just like what the woman before him did, except he forgets his pattern in the middle and does not recover. He starts. He stops. He starts. He stops. He turns very red and bows and apologizes. The grand master Santa Claus speaks quietly to him and then the boy bows to the audience and leaves the mat. Everyone applauds, because even if he failed this time around, he gave it a good shot.

  Bob turns down some of the lights.

  The whole place becomes very silent.

  Bob walks to the center of the mat.

  He speaks.

  “All of you who take classes here know what a great inspiration Barry Roland is to me. Before he started with us
, Barry had never done anything athletic in his life. He was just a troubled teen who smoked cigarettes and maybe drank too much beer, isn’t that right, Barry?”

  Barry stands on the side of the mat. He bows, which I guess means yes, what Bob said is all true. I never knew the Barry who smoked or drank beers and he never told me he did, so I’m surprised.

  Bob continues to speak. “But before Barry came to us, he also watched hours and hours of an old TV show called Kung Fu. Most of my young students come here because they’ve watched those Ninja Turtles or maybe the Power Rangers. They want to kick butt. That old Kung Fu show is more about justice and learning to control one’s inner demons. Barry came to us not so he could kick butt, but because he wanted to learn to be a better person. And, oh, what a good guy he’s turned out to be. He has done everything we’ve asked. He’s a fine, natural martial arts practitioner. He is so disciplined in his preparations. He never misses a class or an opportunity to get better. And, most important, Barry is a wonderful friend. He volunteers with our kids’ classes. He helps me run the elder kicks program. I’m just as proud of him as can be. I know whatever hurdle gets in his way, my buddy Barry Roland is going to succeed. No matter what hurdle, now or in the future.”

  Barry shuts his eyes and nods.

  “I know most of you are here to support him, too. Am I right?” Bob says.

  There is a lot of whooping and applause.

  “Well then, let’s just do this thing. Wait till you see what he’s got to show you. Okay, Barry . . .”

  For the next four minutes, Barry treats us to many kicks and punches and spins and leaps. He shouts (HI!) and holds on to terrifying poses. He crouches. He breathes. He flows like the ocean. Toward the end, he leaps many feet off the ground and swivels in the air, kicking and punching. He looks like a movie, he is so good. Then he puts his fist over his chest.

  The grand master Santa Claus smiles and nods.

  Barry puts his right fist in his left palm and bows.

  Everyone whoops and applauds more.

  Then the board breaks are even crazier, because they involve a whole bunch of those other students holding boards in different spots on the mat. Barry breathes and concentrates for maybe thirty seconds before he punches, kicks, kicks, then leaps off the bent knee of a classmate high into the air and kicks through a board that is maybe seven feet off the ground. The kid who holds this board is standing on a chair, bracing the board at chest level! When Barry lands, everyone jumps out of their chairs and cheers and shouts. Barry is one amazing tae kwon do guy.