I looked at Stuart's text message and fired one back to him.
not sure when I'll be back at school, bud.
Okay, so there was another thing I didn't want to do. And that was be in the Best Buddies group. I probably wouldn't even be able to play dodgeball. Tomorrow I would text Justin and tell him I was out.
****
Bright and early, my parents picked me up at the hospital. Elma was working, otherwise I'm sure she would have been there too—a family thing, "the more the merrier," y'know?—but I was relieved to have one less person around.
"You fine?" My mother studied me anxiously. My father had gone to pull the car up to the curb where I sat in my mandatory wheelchair, like a weakling.
"Yes, Mom, I'm fine." I had made a pact with myself to try really hard not to snap at her. I knew she was only trying to help, even though that whole nurturing, food thing was annoying. But I understood After all, I wasn't the one who'd had to live in a refugee camp for five years.
"You smart boy to stay home," she said.
I had told my parents I needed the day off. I wondered if she'd feel that way when I told her I wanted to stay home for the rest of the week. Maybe even for the rest of my life. Couldn't I do online schooling and still graduate?
I sat in the back seat and stared out the window all the way home, not saying a word. When we got home, my father insisted on taking my belongings into my room for me, like I couldn't carry a bag. I was the one who carried stuff for him. I was the kid, the strong, capable one.
After they had finally vacated my room, I sat on the end of my bed. Just sat there. My room was full of posters of basketball players. I stared at Steve Nash, the sweat in his hair and that determined look on his face. I'd always wanted to be like him. I told myself if he could do it, I could do it. Trophies lined a shelf my dad had put up; photos of me winning MVP awards were in frames my mother had bought at Walmart.
Then I spotted the letter, sitting on my desk. My acceptance letter from the University of Alberta. Plus, a confirmation letter from the coach there, with the varsity schedule for the fall, including summer training.
I got up, went to my desk and picked up the letters. Swells of rage surged through my entire body. It was over. Before it even began. I wasn't going to play varsity basketball. I wasn't going to play basketball again! Ever. Never.
I started ripping the letters, and ripped and ripped and ripped, faster and faster. Until my carpet was covered with small pieces of paper. My body shook, and hands kept moving until there was nothing left to rip. Then I looked up and spotted the medal my team had given me last night, sitting smack-dab in the middle of the shelf. My dad must have just placed it there.
The one for the game I hadn't played in—for the game I'd wanted to play in since I started high school.
I didn't want to look at it. I didn't want it on the shelf. It didn't belong there and I didn't deserve it. Heat flushed my face. I gritted my teeth. Something was seriously bubbling over inside of me.
I picked the medal up and hurled it against the wall. It pinged and fell. And because it felt so good to throw something I picked up one of my other trophies. I didn't care which one. I hurled it as hard as I could at my wall. Plaster crumbled, specks of white flew through the air like snow. I picked up another trophy. This time I threw it harder. More crushed plaster and this time, a hole the size of my fist. My father opened my door just as I was picking up another trophy.
"Samir?"
The sound of my father's voice made me drop the trophy to the carpet. What was I doing? I was acting like Stuart when he was having a meltdown. What was wrong with me?
All the anger I had been feeling over my stupid situation just dissolved and my throat closed up. I could hardly breathe for a minute. Then, it was like a hose got turned on, and tears streamed down my face. They were fast and furious, and my shoulders started shaking and shaking and shaking.
I just couldn't stop crying. I gasped for breath. My knees buckled, and my father caught me in his arms. I allowed him to take me by the shoulders and guide me to my bed so I could sit down. I wrapped my arms around my aching stomach, rocked back and forth, and cried. Like a stupid baby. Just cried.
All my dad did was sit beside me, with his arm around my shoulder, and let me cry. Snot dripped out of my nose. Salty tears made blotches on my sweats. Finally, I stopped and it was all I could do to catch my breath.
I heard my mother whispering something. She must have been standing at my door. Watching. "Oh, Samir," was all I heard her say.
"He be fine," said my father. He gave my shoulder a squeeze. "He alive and we blessed."
I wiped my nose with my sleeve. Without looking up, I saw the tissue and felt my mother beside me, sitting on my other side.
"Son," said my father, "my first day in refugee camp, I cry like you. Cry till I cannot breathe.
My dad, cry? He never cried. In my entire life, I'd never seen him cry even once. I saw him cut off his finger and he didn't cry. He picked it up, had my mother put it in a plastic bag, and carried it to the hospital so they could sew it back on. This "crying" story, from a world I didn't even know, made me look up and stare at him.
He looked right into my eyes. "I cry like you." Now he turned his head and looked to the ceiling as if he was remembering back. Another thing about my father was he never talked about our family's time in the refugee camp. Said it wasn't important to remember that time anymore.
My mom talked about it and so did Elma. But not Dad. He always said life was moving forward, not remembering backward.
"I was man. I was to protect family," he said, "but we were in god-awful camp." He almost spat his words out. I saw his fists clench and his eyes harden.
"To me," he continued and patted his chest, "I was no man if I no protect my family. I hate what they do to our country. Because there was me, in camp, no house, no food, and a woman and baby." He swallowed, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. Then he inhaled and exhaled. I knew he wasn't finished.
"But, after I cry, I work hard to get family out. We were alive, and that count for everything." He nodded his head and turned back to me.
Then in an unusual gesture, he touched my cheek with his fingertip, to wipe away a tear. "You do same." His words were almost an order, but not quite. "My son, you alive."
I swallowed. His eyes stared directly into mine. And then I nodded.
"We happy you alive," said my mother softly.
"I know," I whispered.
"This pass," said my dad. "You live with it." He stood up and his back was straight. "You must."
"I know that too," I said. This time I used the tissue my mother had given me to wipe my nose. "I'm tired," I said. "I think I'll sleep for a bit."
I lay down on my bed and curled into a ball. "I'll fix the wall when I get up," I said to my parents as they were leaving. "I promise."
****
I slept and when I woke up it was two o'clock. My eyes felt all puffy and my nose was plugged.
My phone vibrated so I picked it up. I had a gazillion text messages.
Cecil, Craig, other teammates, Coach Nelson, Justin and one from Stuart. That Ginny girl had stopped texting me, which was a good thing because grad was not on my mind. I would answer the important ones.
First was Coach.
i'll pop by your office tomorrow
After my embarrassing breakdown, I decided that, yes, I would go back to school, face my fate, but that didn't mean I had to have school spirit or get back to my old life. It was gone. I would function at school and that was it.
Okay, now for Stuart. How was he going to take the news about me quitting the Best Buddies? School was one thing, and right now it was going to be my only thing. I would still be his friend, sit with him at lunch, play games with him, but I didn't want to be in the Best Buddies club. I didn't want to be in any club at all.
see u tomorrow
I needed to warn Justin he'd need to find a new Best Buddy for Stuart, so he
was next on my list.
can we meet tomorrow?
Then I sent a message to Cecil and the gang, telling them I would see them all in the a.m. Text messages completed, I lay back down on my bed.
"Come on," I said out loud. "Get up. At least get your butt to the family room and the television."
I pushed myself to get off my bed and went downstairs. We lived in a simple split-level house, so we had a small television room in the lower level. It wasn't a big house, but my parents loved it. I'm not going to lie— sometimes it embarrassed me. But then I tried to think of their side. I'd seen photos of when they had arrived in Canada and how they were met at the airport and given paper bags full of winter clothing. Even with his engineer background, my father felt lucky to land a job working in the shipping department at a furniture company and he never left. He just kept working hard and got a few promotions, so he could provide a home for his family. All my parents cared about was living close enough to the school so we could walk there and get an education. Me and Elma.
When I got downstairs, my dad was in the family room and so was Elma.
"Hiya," she said.
I gave her a little wave.
"Mom's cooking like crazy," she said.
"I can smell," I said. "How come you're not at work?"
"Night shift," she said. Elma had graduated university and was working as a nurse. She had her own apartment but came over sometimes, especially to eat and take home all the leftovers.
The rest of the evening dragged, and I felt as if my family were being too nice to me, wanting to make me happy, trying to make me happy.
Was that what school was going to be like?
****
I awoke to sunshine. I might have preferred rain. I got up, got dressed, and headed downstairs. My mother usually drove me because she started at 9:00 at her job as a receptionist in a dental office, and school started at 8:30. In the car we didn't talk much although I know she wanted to. She was trying to be all positive and nice, and I guess I might not have been responding.
When we pulled up in front of the school, Stuart was waiting for me. My mother waved to him. She'd met him at one of the events and liked that I belonged to the Best Buddies club. I would have to break it to her that I was going to quit. Like, today I was quitting.
"See you tonight," I said, opening the car door. "Thanks for the ride."
"Dad say he pick up."
"He doesn't have to. I can walk. I'll text him." I got out of the car and shut the door before she could say anything more.
Stuart rushed over to me. "You're back," he said. "School sucks without you here."
I showed Stuart my wrist. "Wore my bracelet," I said.
"Cool." He nodded and smiled. "My dad and brother Randy wear theirs all the time too."
As we walked into Sir Winston Churchill Secondary, Stuart kept the conversation going by talking about music and video games, asking me if I'd heard about different rap songs he liked or if I'd played this video game or that video game. I listened and answered his questions. I wasn't a huge gamer so didn't know a lot of the games, unlike Stuart who would play all day long if he was allowed.
Although I didn't want to be the centre of attention, I was. Guys who weren't even my friends high-fived me. Girls smiled at me like I was the puppy in the pet store. That girl Ginny, who had sent me a few texts, smiled at me like I was a celebrity, and boy, did it make me uncomfortable.
When Stuart's aide, Tony, came to get him, I had the feeling Stuart was going to bolt. I touched his arm. "Go with Tony, Little Man. I'm going to class too."
The bell rang and Stuart slouched his shoulders, but he went with Tony.
The good news was that all the attention on me only lasted until morning break because some guy who was part of the druggie crowd got caught with a knife in his backpack and the cops were called to the school. Everyone was talking about that instead. Oh, and Susanna, a grade twelve who was destined to be the valedictorian, kissed Brenda right in the middle of the main hallway (like a lockdown kiss), and that was a topic of conversation as well.
At lunch, I entered the cafeteria and saw my basketball team sitting together. I also saw Justin with Madeline, from Best Buddies, and there were a few others at their table. I didn't see Stuart, but he often ate in a special room or with me. Justin waved to me. Cecil also heckled me, and I gestured to him I'd be there in a minute. Then I went over to see Justin, and the kids from Best Buddies. I still hadn't talked to him about quitting, but I would. Just not in front of the others.
"Hey," I said.
"Join us," said Justin.
I thumbed in the direction of the Cecil's table. "I'm sitting over there but I came to say hi."
"There's a meeting tonight," said Erika. I had totally forgotten about the meeting. Erika squinted at me and smiled, and I had to smile back. She had been born with Down syndrome and she did that to people, made them smile.
"To talk about the I Can Play day," said Gloria. She had FASD, like Stuart, but she also had cerebral palsy, and she was pretty funny at times. I didn't see her Best Buddy, Willa, who was in a rock band and wore the weirdest clothes. Where some girls wore tight stuff, Willa wore bagged-out duds. The group was not something I ever would have joined had it not been for Stuart, but I found out I liked it. A lot.
But right now, I had the energy for nothing, and I certainly had no desire to attend a meeting on the day I just returned to school. I wanted to go home and go to bed. The I Can Play event was sports oriented and I didn't want reminders of my "new limitations."
I know, I know, be grateful and all that. Wasn't feeling it.
"Yeah, we'll talk about that and a few other things," said Justin. "I saw Stuart earlier and he said he was coming for sure."
I cleared my throat and leaned in toward Justin. "I'm, uh, gonna have to quit Best Buddies," I said quietly.
Justin frowned slightly as he turned away from the others to face me. "That's too bad," he said. "Are you sure? I mean, I can try and look for someone else, I guess. But, look—why don't you give it a week? See how you feel."
"Maybe. I dunno. Anyhow, I'll try and find Stuart to tell him before the meeting tonight. And if I can't find him, I'll text Declan." I straightened up and jerked my head toward the basketball team table. "I should go see the guys," I said. "Make my rounds."
Everyone at the Best Buddies table either waved or said good-bye, and I backed up a few steps, before turning my back on them.
As soon as I got to the basketball table, Cecil stood and held up his hand. "Hey, Bro. What gives?"
I shrugged. "Not much. What's up with you?"
"We're talking par-tee. Friday, dude." He used his entire body to talk. "Cel-e-bration time."
"Cool," I said, trying to sound a little enthused. I hadn't told any of the guys I might not show up.
"I heard there's a band," said one of the guy's girlfriends. She almost squealed. "That is so exciting. I can't wait!"
"It is going to be epic," said Cecil.
Epic? I had to get out of this one. Somehow.
CHAPTER SEVEN STUART
All day, I was pumped up because we had a Best Buddies meeting and Sam was back. I didn't get to see him during the day though because Tony made me stay in the room and do work. And so did my teacher because I didn't do it at home. Don't they know I don't care? It is hard for me. I hate it. Are they all morons? Plus, having to do work I didn't want to do and waiting to go to a meeting I did want to go to wasn't a good combination because I couldn't concentrate. I kept breaking my pencil so I wouldn't have to do it.
I tried to run too, but Tony blocked me. I wished I had Claire back as my aide. She was slow and had bad reflexes too. I mean, I could start running—take three steps!—before she took her first step. Plus, I was agitated (my mother's word) because I had to meet with the school counsellor, and my mother and father came in too, and we talked about why I said my mother made me work all night to fix my bedroom wall. I don't know why. I wished peop
le would stop asking me stuff like that all the time. Don't they know I don't know the answers, and when I say, "I dunno," I mean it?
I wished I could punch more holes, right in the school wall but most of those walls are cement blocks. Now that would be stupid. I wanted to use Declan's phone to text Sam and tell him I was going to the meeting, but he wouldn't let me, and I only got to see Declan in the morning.
As soon as the bell rang, I ran to the meeting, like, ran until I was out of breath. And that takes a lot for me. When I got to the room, I didn't see Sam. I frowned, pushing my eyebrows together, because he always beats me to the meeting.
"Glad to see you're here," said Justin. He patted my back. "I know it's hard to be here without Sam."
"Sam's back," I said.
"He's not coming tonight," said Justin. "Didn't he talk to you?"
"He's not coming?"
"I'm sorry, Sam. He's not." Justin had a sort of unhappy look on his face. "He can't do Best Buddies anymore. At least, not for a now. But we're glad you're here."
"I don't want to be here if he isn't!"
A Time to Run Page 5