Uh oh. Donny. If I saw him again I was going to jail.
"Not right now. I'll make sure you can see it afterwards. Are you okay with that?"
"Can't I see it now?" What if it was one of Donny's guns?
"Not now. Later, okay? Do the practice with it and I will ask if you can see the gun after."
Mr. Rossi told us to get in our blocks. So I did. And I crouched. And stared straight ahead.
Donny had a gun. Donny made kids go to jail.
Suddenly, I heard a noise, a car noise. A loud car with two exhaust pipes, that went fast.
I glanced around. Where was Donny? Was he on the road? Was he behind the dumpster? What if he made me go to jail!
What if he had his gun with him?
"On your marks!" Mr. Rossi yelled.
I looked over at Mr. Rossi and saw the gun pointed in the air. Was that Donny's gun? I couldn't tell! Was he going to shoot Donny? "Set!" Mr. Rossi yelled.
I heard the car and the gun go off at the same time. I exploded out of the blocks and ran. And ran and ran and ran.
Donny couldn't see me. If I saw him, I could go to jail.
Because I'd seen his GUN.
I kept running. And didn't stop at the finish line. I hopped over the side of the track and ran toward the front of the school. I needed a place to hide. Under the bushes.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN SAM
Where was he going?
"Stuart!" I called, but he just kept running.
Oh, man. Had the gun spooked him? I had totally forgotten about how Mr. Rossi practised with the gun a couple of days before the meet. He'd done the same thing every year. Who knows what Stuart had been through when he was little? Maybe someone had shot a gun in one of the other houses he lived in before being adopted by the Williams family. The kid had been fostered in some good homes but also in some really bad homes too. Plus, his home with his real mother must have been awful. His mother had tried to drown him. Who does that?
I had to do something.
"I'll go get him," I said to Mr. Rossi.
I started off jogging when really I wanted to run full tilt. I hated this heart thing. I couldn't do anything. Like, anything. I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists to stop myself from running all out. My insides felt choked and my head throbbed.
I could still see Stuart up ahead, so I called to him again. He did look over his shoulder as if he'd heard me, so I waved at him. He stopped and looked around. I kept jogging, but I also glanced around. What was he looking for? He cranked his head and seemed to be scanning the streets, up and down. Then he dove under a bush.
"Stuart! Stay there!"
I continued my slow jog over to him. Every time I increased my speed, I started panting so I slowed down. Fortunately, he wasn't moving from under the bush.
Stay there. Stay there. Please, stay where you are. I kept muttering to myself as I walked. Finally, I reached the bush and squatted down, flipping up a branch. He was sitting with his arms around his legs, rocking back and forth.
"Hey," I said, trying to act normal and subdued instead of panicked. "Come on out."
He looked at me, then he crawled out from under the bush.
"What happened, dude? Did the gun scare you?"
"I dunno."
When he gave me his blank, "I dunno," I knew better than to ask more questions. "Maybe we should call it a day and just go out front of the school and wait for your ride."
"But I want to go back and work with the blocks," he said.
"Okay. Let's go talk to Mr. Rossi."
We slowly walked back and didn't talk because I didn't want to bug him. I wanted to give him time to tell me what had happened. If it was the gun, perhaps I could practise with him, although, where would I get a gun? Maybe I could put a gun sound on my phone?
We walked at a snail's pace and Stuart kept stopping and looking around or stopping to tie up his shoe or pull up his sock.
Muddled in thoughts that were running zig-zags through my head, I approached Mr. Rossi as he was ending the practice. I saw Cecil across the field and he gave me a wave and a funny gesture as if to say, "What happened?"
I waved back to him and pointed to Mr. Rossi, letting him know we were going to talk to him.
"Stuart," said Mr. Rossi. "What happened?"
"I dunno."
"Was it the gun?"
He nodded.
"Okay. It's a good thing we practised. Is your mom picking you up?"
Stuart looked up at Mr. Rossi. "Can I practise with the blocks now?"
"Sure. I'd like to talk to Sam for a few minutes, so you go over and do a few starts."
When Stuart was out of earshot, Mr. Rossi looked at me and said, "I'm not sure this is going to work."
"But he's been working hard," I said. "And he's fast. I can keep working with him. I promise he can do it. I think he just got spooked by the gun. Who knows what happened to him early in his life? If I go over and over it with him, I think he'll be okay."
"You can't promise that." He put a hand on my shoulder, which was so not him.
"I really think he can do it." I said. "I believe in him."
"Look, Sam, he pushed Claude off the track. What if he does that when he's in a race with someone from another school?"
"That's not fair," I said. "Claude pushed him first. You didn't see that part. Stuart isn't sneaky—he doesn't know how to do stuff like that without getting caught. Claude does."
"He must have provoked him," said Mr. Rossi.
Provoked? Seriously Mr. Rossi, dude. You're going to use the word provoked.
"Look, Mr. Rossi. I know Stuart is hyper and unpredictable, but whatever. The thing is, he doesn't provoke stuff; he reacts."
Mr. Rossi was still looking pretty skeptical. He needed to see the whole picture here.
"Claude thinks he's going to lose his chance to compete in the city meet because of Stuart," I said. "So, he shoved him first. Kids bully Stuart all the time because of who he is."
Mr. Rossi tucked his clipboard under his arm. "I'll think about it tonight.
Come see me tomorrow." And that was that. He walked away from me.
I ran my hand through my hair as I stared at Stuart, who was blasting out of the blocks and talking to himself. Finally, I walked over to him.
"Good job," I said to him. "Remember to use your legs. Dig in and push."
"Is Mr. Rossi mad at me?" He hung his head.
I hated seeing him do that. "No," I said.
He looked up at me, his eyes full of this weird sadness that seriously made me feel his pain. And that's not a lie. Something hit me in the gut, like I'd been sucker punched too. The kid needed a chance. So, he'd been spooked by a gun. I'd practise with him somehow, some way.
"Can I run on Thursday?" he asked.
I smiled at him. "Of course you can run, Little Man," I said. Then I held up my hand. "And you're going to kick some butt!"
He slapped my hand back.
Man, I hoped I could deliver on that promise.
****
After dinner, I went to my room and started pacing back and forth, like a caged animal. Back and forth, wearing down the carpet.
I picked up my phone and reread all the texts Bethany had sent. We'd had such a good time, or I had for sure, on Friday night. We'd texted on Saturday, back and forth, just talking about stuff, like what we had planned for the day.
Then on Sunday, after she'd told me about her flag football game that she'd played in the park, everything came crashing down in my mind. Some boyfriend I'd be for an athletic girl like her. I couldn't compete with the jocks of the world.
I hadn't answered one of her texts since then. Not one. I'd read them and not answered. What a dick. I'd watched television all day Sunday and ignored her.
Now, I desperately wanted to talk to her. Had I blown it?
I tossed my phone back and forth and back and forth. My stomach felt sick, like I wanted to barf. She was the one I wanted to talk to first about all of this be
cause I knew she would understand.
I composed a text then deleted it. Composed another one. Deleted it too. Another and another.
Finally, I made it simple.
hey how was football?
I waited, staring at my phone, pacing, pacing. Would she text me back?
The phone pinged. I glanced down.
good
That was it? All she was going to say? My heart sank to my toes. I tried to breathe to calm myself down. I could do this. My throat dried but I made my fingers go to work.
Wanna chat???
Was I being too bold? Being too needy? Being too…
sure give me a call now
Before I lost my nerve, I called her.
"Hey," I said. My voice seriously cracked like I was fourteen all over again. "How you doing?"
"Great," she said. Her voice sounded okay. Not mad. Or was I just hoping for the best? Maybe I was making too big a deal out of me not texting. Maybe she wasn't that type of girl who got mad when you didn't respond. So many maybes were banging in my head like a bad drum roll that I must have forgotten to speak.
"What's up?" she asked.
"I'm sorry I didn't text back."
"Why didn't you? It's not hard to answer a text."
"Um, you were playing flag football." What a lame thing to say. "It's something I can't really do anymore."
"Who cares? It's just flag football."
"I know." I exhaled. "I guess I care. I used to be able to do all that stuff." "You can talk to me about this anytime, you know." Her usually low, gravelly voice sounded soft.
"Sure," I said quickly. "I really wanted to talk to you about Stuart today though." I flopped back on my bed and told her the story of Stuart and how the sound of the gun had made him take off. The words just flowed out of me.
The one thing I left out, though, was the fact that I'd promised him he could run.
"They have to let him run," I said. "They just have to. He'll be so disappointed if he can't."
There was silence on the other end. Then she said, "Why don't you bring him out to Special Olympics? It might be easier for him. It's a gradual ease-in and everyone involved wants the best from the athletes, so we work with them, both mentally and physically."
"I know he can do this," I said, thumping the bed with my fist. "He can run in this track meet Thursday and he can beat some of these kids. He can."
More silence. Then she said, "But does he want to? Does he really want to? Or is he doing this to make you happy?"
"I think he does." I stood up and started my pacing again. "In fact, I know he does."
"Okay," she said. "Then stick with him. Maybe take the pressure off. Make it more fun."
"But I will bring him to Special Olympics," I said. "I mean he might do really well there too. And the school meets will end in a few weeks. We have our school meet Thursday and Cities are the following Thursday. A bus takes all the athletes over and it would be a huge deal for him." I was rambling a little, but I couldn't stop myself. "But I could bring him Friday night maybe, after the school meet. Just for fun."
"Sure," she said. "That sounds good. Just play it by ear. Best way to operate."
The following Friday seemed like a long way away. Just talking to her made me want to see her again. I didn't really want to wait. Should I ask her to go for coffee, again? Or ice cream? Or for a walk even? Just a walk. I wasn't doing anything all night. Nada. Lying on my bed. Sunset was getting later every night. She really was only one bus away.
"Um," I started. "Um," I said again. "You wanna go for a walk?" I got the words out. I held my breath.
"Tonight? You're kidding right?"
"Um." My heart did a huge belly flop and it stung.
"It's not that I don't want to," she said, "but it's the seventh game of the Raptors-Miami series! Aren't you watching? This game is huge for them."
Yeah, I knew about it but had been trying to forget. Cecil had asked me to go to his house but I'd said no. "Um, yeah, huge game."
"I am so excited! Like. So. Excited! But I've been so swamped with stuff that I didn't make plans to have friends over like I usually do," she said. "Plus it's a Monday and I'm always on babysitting duty, so a full-blown party at my place is a little out unless it's miniscule. My mom takes an accounting class on Monday night, so I have to be home for my little brother and sister. But…" she paused but just for a split-second, "you know, if you wanted to come to my place and watch I think that'd be cool. One person isn't exactly a party but we're ordering pizza."
"Oh, okay," I said. I got off my bed and paced in my room. "Okay." I really did want to see her. But to watch a game? Dilemma.
I sucked in a deep breath before I said, "What's your address?" After she'd given it to me, she said, "Wear your jersey!" And if you don't have one, I have an extra. Just don't come in Miami gear. You won't get in my house."
"You bet. See ya." I pressed end on my phone and exhaled. Not a big deal. Of course I had a jersey, so I pulled it from the back part of my closet and put it on. Then I went downstairs. Did I dare ask my dad for a ride? He had the television on and looked up when he saw me come into the television room.
"Ahh, you finally watch game," he said, giving me a thumbs-up. He always looked so awkward when he tried to do "cool" things and I laughed.
"I'm going out," I said.
"You go to some friend house?"
"Uh, yeah," I said.
"I give you ride."
"Um, sure," I said. A ride would be nice but the explanation of where I was going, not so nice.
He got out of his chair and looked at his watch. "We go. I don't want to miss nothing."
In the car, I used the GPS on my phone and discovered Bethany didn't live too far away. Fifteen minutes max. I guided my father, and he didn't ask a lot of questions as we drove and the few he did, I gave vague answers to. When we got to the house, I quickly got out of the car.
"Thanks, Dad," I said.
"You need ride home?"
I shrugged. "I can take the bus."
"Call. I pick you up."
I nodded and slammed the door. Then I walked up the sidewalk and took the three steps to the front door. I turned around before I knocked and saw my father was just pulling away. Good.
Bethany answered the door wearing a Raptors jersey that hung to her knees, and behind her stood a boy who looked around eight or so, with a huge grin on his face and a Raptors hat on backwards.
"Who are you?" the boy asked.
"Logan, that's rude," said Bethany. She shook her head and tousled his hair, a good tousle too. Then she looked at me. "I'll apologize now for his behaviour."
He screwed up his face, moved out of her reach, then body-checked her. "Don't say that!"
She howled with laughter.
"Hi, Logan," I said, smiling at him.
"That's enough, Logan. Fun's over," said Bethany, moving aside. "Come on in. I told my mom you were coming and she said it was okay."
"Yeah, cuz Bethany's not allowed boys over when she babysits us but she said you were a friend from Best Buddies so my mom said yes."
"Too much information, dude," she said to Logan. "Now go. Remember what I said. You bug me, you don't get pepperoni pizza. I'll order all veggie."
He crossed his arms across his chest and frowned, but then he did run away.
"Works every time," she said.
I took off my shoes in the front entrance. Then she led the way to a room that was off the kitchen and definitely the family room. Family photos hung on the wall, including school and sports photos. I studied one of Bethany in her soccer outfit with a big "C" on the shirt. She was holding an MVP trophy.
"Glad you wore a jersey," she said.
"Thanks." I pointed to the photo. "You said you played soccer, but I didn't know you were a star."
"Whatever," she said. "Team sports. Everyone is a star."
I nodded. "Yeah, that's how I always felt."
"You can feel that way again, you kn
ow." She tilted her head and stared directly into my eyes.
"I can't—"
She made the slashing movement to her throat, stopping me mid-sentence. "Don't say what I think you're going to say. You may not get that high from being an athlete when you coach, but you sure get something that resembles it." She pointed to a big comfy chair that had these red Raptors shaker things and red Styrofoam hands. "You can take anything you want. The game is about to start." Then she put her fingers to her mouth and whistled.
Logan came running into the room and he was now dressed in some sort of Raptor costume, looking a little like the mascot.
I burst out laughing. "You guys are real fans."
"Oh, yeah," said Bethany, lifting her hand up to high-five Logan. "Logan and I love watching sports on television."
He jumped and smacked her hand so hard I thought she'd topple over, but she didn't. She stood solid.
Since the photos on the wall showed three kids, I said, "What about your sister?"
A Time to Run Page 14