"One day," she says, but I can tell she's not so sure.
"Do you want to date Mr. Reynolds?" I ask.
Her eyes go wide. "Why would you ask such a thing?"
"Because you were dancing with him at the Fall Festival. He doesn't have kids. I think he came to be with you."
Mom laughs, this big laugh that fills the car, and the people in the next car could probably hear her, too.
"Auntie Mae's Diner was a sponsor of the event, Maggie. That's why Lou was there."
"Well," I say defensively, "you two were looking pretty chummy."
"He was just being nice."
I shake my head. "I don't think so."
"Hmm ..."
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing. Just go back to being a kid, will ya?"
We sit in silence the rest of the way home. When we walk inside the house, I ignore the lump in my throat as I say, "For the record ... if you want to invite Mr. Reynolds over for dinner one night, I wouldn't mind," and head upstairs to my room.
In my room, I want to take my words back. I only said them because I know how miserable Mom has been lately.
But the truth is I miss my dad every day, too. More than anything. And I know he has another wife and another life. What if Mom and Mr. Reynolds start dating or, even worse, get married. Will they want to start a new life without me, too?
I lock my door and open my closet. In the back, in the darkest shadows, is my racquet. I know it's there although it's hidden behind clothes. I feel its presence when I'm in my room, kind of like kryptonite for Superman. Desperation washes over me.
I reach out and grab the handle, the weight of the racquet foreign but, at the same time, familiar.
"Maggie, open the door." Panic. "Just a second."
I toss the racquet in the closet and unlock my door. Mom is staring at me strangely.
I brush the hair from my face, hoping she can't see right through me and realize I've always known where my lost racquet is. "Mom, what's up?"
"I was thinking. About Lou, my boss. Were you serious when you said I should invite him for dinner?"
TWENTY-SEVEN
Caleb
I asked Brian to meet me at the park for some one-on-one. I'm practicing free throws when he drives up in his Yukon.
"You look like a middle-aged man in that thing," I say. He gives a fake-insulted huff. "It's better than the car you drive."
"I don't drive one."
"Exactly."
We stand facing each other. I say what needs to be said. "Listen, about you and Kendra. How about we call a truce."
"Fair enough."
I pass him the ball. He dribbles the ball too far away from his body, so I knock it and grab it away from him.
"B-ball's still not your game, is it?" I say as I dribble down the court.
Brian's shuffling backwards, following my every move. When I stop, his hands are up and ready to block my shot. "Get me on a wrestling mat and I'll kick your ass."
I take a shot. It bounces off the rim and Brian gets the rebound.
Brian is an anxious player. He runs down the court and shoots too quickly, missing the basket by a mile. The ball lands in the grass. I take the ball inbounds. "You're a lightweight, Bri," I say. "I'd pin you in less than ten seconds."
"Put your money where your mouth is, big guy, tomorrow after school."
I move around Brian and make an easy lay-up. "I have to work."
He holds the ball. "You say that, but you never say where. Rumor has it you're a homo and meet up with your lover after school. Is he the one who gave you the bruise on your face?"
My muscles start to tense up. "Don't give me shit."
Brian starts dribbling down the court, his eye on the basket. "Why? You gonna threaten me like you threatened Drew?"
Brian shoots and the ball goes right in. This time I hold the ball under my arm, stopping the game. "He was trying to piss me off and you know it." My old friend crosses his arms on his chest. "You've changed, Caleb. I don't even know you anymore. And this has nothing to do with Kendra."
"Bullshit. I'm the same person."
He laughs. "You've got a chip on your shoulder. Everybody knows it but you. That's the scary part."
No, the scary part is that people don't realize how much they've changed. "So everyone else is the same except me?
"No, dude. Everybody's changed, nobody is the same. You're the only one who can't accept it. You're not a sophomore anymore, you're not dating Kendra, you're not the wrestling stud. You're a bad-ass, brooding ex-con."
I'll show him a brooding ex-con. I dribble the ball down the court, and when Brian gets in my face I push him down before I take the shot.
"Foul!" Brian calls out.
"You said to accept my bad-ass ex-con self. I'm only taking your suggestion."
I hold out a hand. He looks at me suspiciously, then grabs my wrist as I pull him up. I get three more baskets and recover two of Brian's rebounds.
"You know what you need?" Brian says as he wipes sweat from his brow.
"A new best friend?" I suggest.
"No. You need a girlfriend. Name a chick you think is hot. Just throw out a name."
"Maggie Armstrong."
"No, seriously. Name a chick."
"I am serious."