He nodded. Then we did our usual high-five and he took off for his mother's car. He was safe. I don't know why I felt like a weight was lifted, but I did.
Later that night I sent a message to Stuart's mother about no practice Friday, early sign-up, and times for next week. And about Dunn nosing around. She immediately texted me back, thanking me for the heads up.
****
The next morning, Stuart and I met, and he signed himself up for the 100, 200, and 400 metre races. I watched as he signed his own name, and this time I took a photo. Once I'd sent it to his mother, I also sent it to Bethany. She responded with a happy face that made me grin. The rest of the day became a bit of a blur for me as I had a big test in math and a group presentation in social. Lunch was a meeting with the group, so I didn't get to see Stuart again.
By the time the 3:00 bell let us out for the weekend, I was glad to get out of there. Plus, for the first time since I'd been out of the hospital, I had something to do on a Friday night that I was looking forward to.
Since the Special Olympics deal didn't start until 7:00 p.m., I sat down for dinner with my parents. Lately, Elma hadn't been around as much. I guess she'd gone back to having a life instead of playing the part of my personal nurse and checking up on me. Mom had made lamb and beef kebobs, which she served with pita bread, sour cream, and ajvar.
At dinner, we often talked Bosnian if Elma was around. Since Elma wasn't having dinner with us tonight, I tried to steer the conversation to English.
"Good dinner, Mom."
"Glad you like. Tonight you go out?" she asked.
I spooned some ajvar on pita. "Yup."
My mother frowned at me. "You say 'yup'. That not English."
"Yes, Mother. I. Am. Going. Out. Tonight. Is that better?" I slid the meat off the kebab and rolled up the pita.
"You being what is called a smart-aleck," said my father. He bit into his pita.
"Sorry," I said. Before I took a bite, I said, "I'm going out to a Special Olympics practice that they have in the city. I want to see if it would be something Stuart would like."
"Nice," said my mother. "How you hear about this?"
I pointed to my mouth. Chewing hunks of lamb could take a few seconds. Finally, I wiped my mouth with my paper serviette.
"I met a few people at the I Can Play event who work with some of the athletes. Might be okay to get involved." I shrugged. "I'll see tonight."
"Good," said my mother. "Tell about this Special Olympics."
I started spewing off information. "It's for people with intellectual disabilities. Like the kids in the Best Buddies group. They do all kinds of sports like track and field, basketball, badminton and even skating and skiing in the winter. Oh, and they do bocce, Dad."
"Bocce!"
I knew my dad had played a lot of bocce when he was in Bosnia.
"To je dobar sport," said my dad in Bosnian.
"Yeah, it's your kind of sport," I said, laughing.
"This good for you," said my mother. "Helping is good. In camp I teach children reading."
"I didn't know you did that," I said. Actually, I didn't know a lot of what had happened. Some. But obviously not everything. Elma talked a little about what it was like, eating rice day in and day out, and maybe having a little chicken and that would be a treat. It was weird for me to think my family had been in the camp, lived that sparse life for five years, without me even being born yet. Almost as if we were two separate families.
I had been told that when they were able to return to Bosnia, they lost their home because it was occupied, even though they owned it. They showed up at the front door and people were living in it and wouldn't leave. That's why they took such pride in our Canadian house.
Now it was my father's turn to wipe the red ajvar and dripping sour cream off his mouth. Kebabs were messy. He put his serviette down and said, "Your mother a good teacher."
"And you good at selling things," said my mother.
My father waved his hand in front of his face.
To make extra money for the family, my dad had sold "stuff" at flea markets. Elma told me she used to love going along with him when she was little and playing dress-up with some of the clothes he sold.
"That's a good skill to have, Dad."
"Yah, yah," he said, waving his hand in front of his face. "Not for me." We finished eating and I helped my mother with the dishes before I got my coat on to leave.
"You need ride?" my father asked.
"I'm okay. I can catch the bus."
"I drive," he said. He winked at me. "I want ice cream."
We got in the car and I plugged the address into my phone. We didn't talk a lot on the drive, but then my dad and I didn't actually talk a lot in general. Elma called him the "man of few words." It's just who he was.
"You have bucks for tonight?" he asked.
My dad had these slang words he had picked up when he arrived in Canada and they had stuck with him over the years. Bucks for money was one of them. "I've got a little," I said.
More silence. But it was comfortable. He pulled up outside the door to the sports arena.
Bethany stood by the doors, as if she was waiting for me. As soon as she saw us drive up, she waved.
"Ko je ta devojka?" My father peered out the window and I wanted to sink in the seat and slither out the back door. No go. He'd seen her now, and asked who she was.
"Um, Rekla mi je o programa." I had to tell him something and I made it easy by just saying she told me about the program.
"I won't tell Mother," he said, back to broken English. Then he gave me this weird fatherly slap on the back and a grin that made me almost roll my eyes. It was as if he was happy to be a part of some big secret.
"Appreciate that," I said. "And don't tell Elma either." "
Ne Elma," he said, laughing.
I got out of the car, shut the door, and waited for him to drive away.
When it was obvious he wasn't leaving ASAP, I headed over to Bethany.
"Hi," I said.
"I'm so glad you came." The corners of her mouth turned up and she glanced over at my father in the car that still hadn't moved. "Um, is that your dad?"
"Yeah. Let's move inside. He'll leave then."
I held the door open for her or else I would have gotten a lecture about manners when I got home. Once inside I finally exhaled.
"I'm so glad you came," she said. As she walked, I swear she bounced on her toes. She wasn't tall, but she was definitely compact. Her hair was up in a ponytail and it swung back and forth. "You're going to love the athletes."
"I like that you call them athletes," I said.
"Because they are. Wait until you see what they can do. How's Stuart, by the way?"
"He's doing great. Next week is our school meet. On Thursday. Today we put his name down to be in three events, so he should stay busy."
"Our program winds down a bit in the summer, unless the athletes are competing at a championship. Maybe you can get him out here once the school meet is over. It's a little more forgiving here, mostly in practice, but there are rules as well. Many are the same."
We walked down a few halls, then through a door, and suddenly I was in the indoor track and there were kids doing all kinds of activities; sprinting at one end of the track, hurdle running on the other. High-jumping in one corner. Even weight-lifting in another corner.
"Wow," I said. "I thought you said tonight was just track and field."
She laughed. "Oh, that's Ben. He lifts all the time so we just give him a little space to work. He's a champion—wins all kinds of medals."
"Incredible," I said.
"Yeah, it's pretty cool." She nodded her head.
The hour flew by and I mainly just hung out with Bethany, almost like her shadow, and watched her coach the runners through starts. She was firm, funny, and…they loved her.
Some used the blocks and others didn't. It was up to each athlete to decide. From watching, I knew that Stuart would be as
good as any of them with his natural stride and endurance.
At the end of the time, I helped put the equipment and mats away.
"So, what'd you think?" Bethany asked.
"This would be great for Stuart. How did you get to be a coach?" I asked.
"You have to take a course and there are levels to go through, just like any coaching certification. It's not hard, just time consuming. It's a few weekends here and there." She smiled and her eyes shone. For some reason my face heated up. I had to look away.
All night I'd been thinking about how I could ask her to go to a coffee shop with me after this was all over. It was only 8:30. We could go for an hour. Talk. But I felt like my tongue was swollen even though I'd already googled coffee shops on campus and found one open.
"Um," I started. That's as far as I got before one of Bethany's athletes, a girl named Dawn, came up and wrapped her arms around her waist. "That was fun," she said. She had been born with Down syndrome. Bethany hugged her back.
"You did great tonight, Dawn," said Bethany. "I loved how you worked as hard as you could." Then she pulled away and looked over at me. "Did you meet my friend?"
Dawn looked up at me. She probably was only four feet tall. "Is he your boyfriend?" she asked.
Bethany's face instantly turned red. Mine too. In fact, this time my flush travelled from my neck, to my face, to the ends of my ear lobes. My whole head felt as if it had been stuck in a hot oven to bake. I tried to duck and just casually look around.
"He's my friend," said Bethany, speaking for both of us. Bethany looked into the distance and pointed. "Your sister is here to pick you up."
After Dawn left with her sister, Bethany said, "Well, that was awkward."
I laughed. "Sure was." It was now or never. "You, um, want to go for coffee somewhere?" There! I'd got it out. Now I waited. Please say yes.
She looked at me, all calm and casual, and smiled. "Sounds good to me."
We found the coffee shop, after a few wrong turns. It was a place where, after coffee hours, musicians played. Tonight there was a girl with long hair playing her guitar and singing some Adele song. We found a table and I ordered a Coke and Bethany ordered a fruit drink.
At first, we didn't say much of anything beyond commenting on our drinks and I was starting to feel as if things were going horribly and that I sucked at doing this kind of thing because, well, I'd never really done it before. Girls had always just come to me and we hung out at school for awhile, then hung out at parties, then at our houses, and eventually we just became an item. And really, there had only been Traci and Rachel, and both of them had lasted all of a month each. Sports had been my focus.
This seemed so different, sitting in a coffee shop, talking about something besides our school, and our school basketball team, and so-and-so, and so on.
"So," she said, leaning back in her chair. "What's your favourite movie?"
In all my time at home, moping around, I'd read about this game in one of Elma's magazines. It was supposedly a good way to get to know your "date." I think the magazine had been Cosmopolitan. But this wasn't really a "date." I was pretty sure I wasn't going in for the first kiss. Although, right now, looking at her across from me, I'd like that to happen. This girl was different, and instead of being the typically "hot" one, she had spunk and energy, which I really, really liked.
I forced myself to think about the question. I had a ton of favourite movies. Mostly funny ones like Wedding Crashers and 40-Year-Old Virgin and Yes, Man. But then I thought of another one I'd watched with Elma and my parents because my dad loved it, and it left me thinking. Maybe it would impress her.
"It's a really old one," I finally said, "but The Green Mile." "I've never heard of that one," she said.
Okay, so I'd bombed. Tried to be too intellectual or something. "I think you'd like it," I said quickly. "It's a Stephen King movie, but it's a drama, not a horror movie." Then I asked, "What's yours?"
She grinned. "I'm going to sound super shallow but Wedding Crashers." She laughed. "It is hilarious. I also loved Bridesmaids. I've watched it so many times."
I slapped my forehead. "I was going to say Wedding Crashers," I said.
"Well, you didn't. And I did." She gave me a playful little smirk, and tilted her head. "I have another question."
"Shoot," I said. I figured she was going to ask me about my favourite food and I was ready to say pizza.
But she said, "Tell me about your family, Mr. Sokolovic. Oh, and by the way, if you don't know, my last name is Phong." This time she grinned. "It's always good to know a girl's last name."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN STUART
I didn't want to see Donny again, but I did anyway. It wasn't my fault though. I didn't mean to see him. It was our last practice on Thursday, before the weekend, and Sam told me we were a week away from the school track-and-field meet. I wanted to work with the blocks. Every practice he said we could but then we didn't.
Finally, we were going to. But I had to pee first. I'd found some money on the kitchen counter this morning so I'd had two sodas for lunch. The restroom was like a mile away, inside the school, and I had to go real bad.
I looked up and saw a whole whack of bushes and they already had leaves. The bushes were as good a place as any because no one was here to tell me they weren't. I ran behind them, looked around, and when I didn't see anyone, I peed.
I was down to a dribble when I heard the car. I knew the sound. I wasn't supposed to see Donny. Never. Ever. Again. Or I would go to jail. I tried to hurry my pee and zip up my pants.
"Stu," he called out to me.
I turned and saw him coming toward me. He had a video game in his hand. "I've been looking for you," he said. He moved toward me. "I wanted you to have this."
He handed me the video game, the one I had played at his house. Kill Zone. I loved that game. "You're giving it to me?"
"Sure am, Stu. Don't tell anyone though." He winked at me. "We have good secrets. Right? You didn't tell anyone about me? Did you?"
I looked down at the box and my body got jittery. "No," I said.
"Good going. It wouldn't be good for either of us if you did."
"I didn't say anything."
"I hope not."
"I won't tell about the video game either."
"Good boy. Maybe you can come over again one day. Or ride in my car."
I wanted to go fast in his car again. But I didn't want to go to jail.
Suddenly, I heard Sam calling my name as if he was looking for me. It's what my mother sounded like when I used to run away from her in the mall, when I was little.. His voice sounded kind of high.
"You better go," said Donny. "Run."
"I'm on the track-and-field team," I said.
"I know. I like that you're running fast. Handy skill, kid."
"You do?"
"Oh, yeah. That speed, kid—it's a good thing in my business." He started walking away from me, but he was walking backwards.
"Oh, and hide that thing in the bushes," he said, pointing to the game in my hands. "You can come back and get it later. Remember, it's yours and only yours. Don't show anyone or they will take it away from you." Then he took off to his car.
Sam wasn't calling me anymore, so I stashed the video just like Donny said. Way back under the bush. Then I heard Sam again, so I walked out from behind the bush.
Sam didn't seem to be too mad at me for going pee in the bushes, and actually looked happy to see me. I sure didn't tell him about Donny.
"Let's work with the blocks," said Sam. His voice sounded so weird.
Sam showed me what to do and I practised with them, doing what he said to do, which was really fun. Then I got to run with the other kids.
As I was running around, stopping and starting when the whistle blew, one of the kids told me I sucked. So, I ran by him and told him to "take that and shove it." He said he was going to get me good. I kept running and beat him.
****
On Saturday, I had to
go shopping with my father because he wanted to buy me new running shoes to wear for my races. Something lighter to make me faster. There were so many running shoes to pick from but the guy who was helping me try them knew which ones would be good for me. Out of the colours I got to pick from were yellow and blue, and orange and blue, and black and red. I picked the red and black pair.
Then when we got home I told my dad I was going for a run at the school track to try out my new shoes. My dad said he would drive me over and even run with me.
When we were near the school, I saw the bush where I had peed and suddenly I remembered something. I had left a video under the bush. Today I had remembered. Not the day Donny gave it to me, but today. One thing I didn't forget though was that Donny told me not to tell anyone about the video, but I wasn't going to anyway because no one would let me play the game. And I wanted to play it.
I found a pen in my father's glove compartment and wrote down a 'V' on my arm, so this time I wouldn't forget.
My dad glanced over at me and smiled. "Is that for victory?" he asked.
I nodded. Sure. Why not, I thought. My dad drove into the parking lot of the school and after he'd parked, I opened the car door. There wasn't another car in the parking lot.
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