The Hand You're Dealt

by Paul Volponi

  But I didn’t care about any of that.

  I picked up the watch and felt it between my fingers. In my memory, I could see Dad wearing it. Then I stretched the metal band wide. I put my hand through the circle, letting it fall around my wrist. And from that second on, I knew a whole part of my life was over with. That I’d never let myself be obsessed with that bastard Abbott again. And that there’d never be a day I wouldn’t miss Dad more than anything.

  Audra and Cassidy were waiting outside the rec center. They’d seen Abbott leave without the watch and heard Ms. Harnish go off on him in the parking lot for quitting.

  “‘You quit? Idiot! Idiot!’” Cassidy mimicked her, replaying the scene for me in a high-pitched voice.

  But they didn’t know it was me who’d won till I came bouncing down the stairs, wearing that watch.

  “Yeah! You’re gonna be a legend at school after this!” hollered Cassidy, as Audra ran up into my arms.

  Cassidy had his car and wanted to drive me around Caldwell on a victory lap, with my arm hanging out of the passenger window.

  “For every senior Abbott ever screwed with,” he pleaded.

  But I said no.

  And I finally told him, “You ditched me for a long time. When I needed a real friend the most, too. Maybe one day it’ll get back to being somethin’ between us, but it’s not happenin’ for me right now.”

  Cassidy looked stunned, like I’d sucker punched him.

  “Me?” he asked, putting a finger to his chest.

  “Yeah, you,” I answered, flat out.

  “Hey, I was always around,” he said, sounding hurt and angry at the same time. “I got a life of my own to take care of too, you know.”

  That’s when it came to me crystal clear what Cassidy’s idea of a real friend was: somebody who never took the focus away from him and never needed too much that he had to sacrifice a thing that mattered.

  “You know what? You’re right,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  Right then and there, I cut Cassidy loose and even forgave him, because he was never really a friend. And I finally understood that I wasn’t losing that much after all.

  Then he put a fist out, and I only connected mine to his so I wouldn’t leave him hanging.

  “So I can celebrate you droppin’ Abbott?” he asked. “Right?”

  “Sure,” I answered, pulling my arm back and putting it around Audra. “You can do anything you want.”

  Cassidy drove off alone, honking his horn like we were on the same team and had just won the biggest game of the year.

  “How does it feel to be the man?” Audra asked.

  “I’m not even sure that’s who I wanna be,” I answered.

  I’d played Audra, too, and knew I couldn’t keep up that kind of act forever.

  “Maybe I’ve been tryin’ to impress you too much,” I said. “And need to be myself a little more.”

  “Oh, yeah. ’Cause I can’t stand guys like that,” said Audra.

  “I hear you,” I said.

  “Guys who build houses out of cards,” she came back. “They can be pretty cool.”

  I walked Audra home, and I guess neither one of us wanted it to end because we kept crisscrossing the blocks by her house. Then, with the sun sinking low, I kissed her good-bye with some real spark to it, so she’d always remember.

  Mom was in the kitchen heating up leftover beef stew, when she heard me come through the front door.

  “I’ve been waiting dinner on you!” she called out.

  I walked straight up to her, kissing her on the cheek as I slipped the watch into her hand. Then she squeezed it tight and her eyes got wide, like it was a Christmas morning when Dad was still alive.

  “That’s my Huck,” she said, between a laugh and a cry.

  Later I saw Mom start to set three places at the table, before she put the third plate back. But I never mentioned it to her.

  I wanted Mom to have the watch, but after dinner she put it back on my wrist.

  “You’re the champion poker player of Caldwell,” she said. “I want everybody to see what you did.”

  And that first night I wore the watch to bed, falling asleep with the sound of it ticking in my ear.

  Father Dineros declared that Buddha finished in second place, because Abbott had quit the tournament. And since I wasn’t anywhere near twenty-one, that meant he was going to Las Vegas. Buddha didn’t live in Caldwell, but said he’d split whatever he won with the town anyway.

  “Hell, if I win that twelve million, I’ll buy a house here,” said Buddha.

  Everybody expected Abbott to complain to the Caldwell Community Board about getting bumped out of second place and losing that free seat in the Vegas tournament. And when he did, a copy of the letter answering him got pinned up outside the town hall for people to see.

  Dear Mr. Abbott,

  We understand your distress over the tournament. However, we’re confused as to why you’d bring your complaint to this body. If we recall your previous argument concerning your Las Vegas winnings correctly, you’re not a resident of Caldwell. In fact, you informed us that your “property’s more than ten feet” beyond our town line.

  Sincerely,

  The Caldwell Community Board

  On Monday morning, the scores to Abbott’s final were posted outside the math office. I aced his test with a ninety-seven. Audra passed easy too, but Cassidy scored a fifty-four and failed. Now instead of hanging out at Sands Point, Cassidy would be spending part of his summer with Abbott, taking precalculus again.

  There was just one day of classes left for seniors, and a week before graduation. The first two periods that morning were for senior signatures—when we could skip class and take our yearbooks out to the lawn for other kids to sign.

  All the other senior teachers were out there having a blast with their students. Only Abbott was missing.

  I kicked it around in my head, thinking how he’d walked out on the tournament, and figured we still had some unfinished business. So I tucked my yearbook under my arm and headed to class.

  No one else was there, except for Abbott. He was sitting behind his desk, sweating his ass off in a long-sleeved shirt. And I walked right past him to my seat—the last one in the middle row.

  “Is there some special reason you’re here, Mr. Porter?” Abbott snarled.

  “You said I failed the final,” I answered. “I thought you’d go over all those problems I got wrong.”

  “Don’t give me any of your garbage!” he shouted. “You’re here to shove that watch in my face! That’s all!”

  “And you’d never do somethin’ like that,” I countered.

  That’s when Cassidy and a couple of other kids came inside and sat down.

  “How late am I, Huck?” Cassidy asked, pulling that baseball cap onto his head.

  I guess it didn’t matter to him that he was facing summer school with Abbott.

  “’Bout eighteen minutes,” I answered, checking the watch.

  Audra showed up next with a few more kids and had the same question for me.

  There shouldn’t have been a single senior in that classroom. They should have all been outside on the lawn having one of their best school days ever. But one by one, they came to see that silver watch on my wrist, and Abbott squirm.

  Everybody wanted me to sign their yearbook, too, and I wrote, “Good Luck, Huck Porter,” beneath my picture on each one.

  I didn’t know how many more senior classes Abbott would be around to torment, before Ms. Harnish squeezed him into trying his luck on the pro poker tour in Las Vegas.

  I just knew Abbott would never get his hands on this watch again. Not without a real fight. And for now, his class was more like a party. One where Abbott had turned into some kind of piñata, and excited kids took their turns whacking at him good by asking me the time.

  But between Abbott and me, it was still a poker game.

  The kind of game in which I was holding all the cards and wasn’t ab
out to fold.

  Then, more than halfway through the class, kids started asking, “Hey, Huck, how much time’s left in this period?”

  So every minute or two, I gave somebody a new countdown for Abbott to hear.