Booked (8 page)

who thinks your post

was a cry for help

when actually

you were just listening

to Eminem

and thought

the song was

kinda nice.

cinnamon French toast with blueberry preserves

homemade lunches

her headlocks and sloppy kisses

her saying
sugar balls
when she's pissed

her cheering at matches

Ping-Pong late Saturday nights

clean clothes on Sunday

double fudge milkshakes after church

dinner with real plates and glasses

her bad horse jokes at the table

both of them holding hands watching TV

family meetings

and, yes,

you even miss the group hug after family meetings

but, no,

neither your mom nor dad

is a monster

and you don't need

an interventionist.

Camouflaging your fears doesn't make them go away, Nicholas.

I'm afraid, okay. Now what?!

Now we try to figure out what to do.

I know what to do. I need to learn how to fight.

You think you need to learn how to fight?

Why are you repeating everything?

There are ways to deal with bullies.

Like what?

What do you think are some of the ways?

I guess if I knew that I wouldn't be here.

Why don't you think about some ways to deal, and when you come back for the next session, we can—

Wait, I'm coming back?

We have five more minutes

remaining, Nicholas.

Is there anything

you'd like to say

to your parents?

Other than

it kinda blows

that I'm here

instead of playing

in the soccer tournament,

I'm good.

. . .

Really, I'm fine.

The twins aren't coming back

to school this year,

and I didn't really mean

I wanted to be dead.

I just . . . I just think . . . I guess

I was mad, and if

they don't love each other

anymore, then

they shouldn't be together.

You only get one chance

to love,

to be loved.

And they lost theirs.

I get it.

Of course we still love each other,
Dad says.

We just can't be together,
Mom adds.

Let's explore that,
says Dr. Santa.
What do you think about
what your parents are saying, Nicholas?

I think being an adult

must be confusing

as hell.

Also, I'm starving.

Are we done?

The silence

at dinner

is only interrupted

by the chomping

of chips and salsa

at what used to be

our favorite family

restaurant.

On second thought,

there
is
something

you'd like to ask

your parents.

According to a brochure

in Dr. Fraud's office,

adultery is the leading cause

of divorce among Americans.

Principal Miller would agree.

His wife got caught kissing

a man who wasn't Principal Miller.

Splitsville.

Your Uncle Jerry quit his job

and your Aunt Janice found out

when her brand-new Lexus got

repossessed. Separated.

Coby's dad and mom

never got divorced

because they were never

married.

But you still don't know

what happened.

So right after

the first bite of enchilada

you say: Dad, did you cheat

on Mom or something?

Beads of sweat cling to his bald head.

Mom stops chewing and gulps.

But before either can answer,

guess who walks up

in a T-shirt that says:

   
I Like Big
BOOKS
and I Cannot Lie
?

Mom and Dad,

this is Mr. MacDonald,

our librarian.

Dad stands up,

shakes his hand, and

The Mac, in,

get this,

red, white, and blue

bowling shoes,

kisses Mom's hand.

Dad kinda frowns.

Nice to meet you two, finally.

Sorry for the sweaty palms.

Happens after bowling.

Mom slips her hand in her lap (where her napkin is).

Your son talks

about you all the time.

I hope nice things,
Mom says.

Actually, he kinda wants

you to take it easy on him.

Life ain't been no crystal stair

for young Nicholas here,
he adds.

The silence is thick

and super uncomfortable.

I'm just kidding,
The Mac says,

and then

breaks out into

a way-too-loud chuckle.

Well, I should get back

to my lady friend. Just

wanted to say hello.

Nick, they're a lot cooler

than you said,
he pretend-whispers to you.

Well, it's our pleasure,

Mr. MacDonald,
Mom says.

Oh, one more thing, Nick.

Did you finish that Pelé book yet?

You lie and say yeah,

'cause the last thing

you need is he and Dad

ganging up on you

over a book

that's never

gonna get read.

He turns to leave, and

your mouth hits

the table

when you see

The Mac's
lady friend

in red heels

waving

from across

the room is

Ms. Hardwick.

Yuck.

Mom, I overslept, can you

drive me to school, please? It's

too late to take the bus.
Sure.

How'd you get to school?

My mom.

She's back?

She was. But she's gone again.

Why didn't you call me?

I overslept.

Dude, you never oversleep.

I just wanted to see my mom a little longer.

Yeah, whatever.

You want to come over after school?

Don't you have practice tonight?

We're just running today. Coach says we're ready.

Ready to get demolished like an old apartment building?

We'll see.

You see what April has on today? Whoa! Be bold, Nick!

Yeah, I should.

Be bold or go home.

I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna wear cool today.

Huh?

No more corduroys and turtlenecks for Nick Hall.

What are you talking about, Nick?

At lunch, I'm asking April to be my girlfriend.

Yeah, right!

Seriously, I am.

What are you gonna say?

Uh, will you be my girlfriend?

That's corny. Be cool with it.

How would you know? You've never done this before.

You either.

My dad gave my mom flowers once.

You gonna give her flowers?

I could, there's some yellow ones in the library.

Those are fake, bro.

Oh! Yeah, you right. Maybe I'm rushing it. She may not even like me.

Didn't she already tell you SHE LIKES YOU?

I'm just saying, maybe she doesn't like me anymore.

Don't chicken out.

I almost forgot, we have a sub today.

Where's Hardwick?

All the English teachers are in a meeting today.

Cool, we can play blackjack.

DANG!

What?

I forgot to brush my teeth today.

So.

I can't talk to April today, like this.

I got some gum in my locker.

I'll just wait.

What happened to no more corduroys, chicken?

I'll wear jeans on Monday.

Brawkk-AWK!
CLUCK CLUCK!

At lunch she walks by, smiles.
HEY,

APRIL,
Coby yells.
NICK HAS

SOMETHING HE WANTS TO TELL YOU!

Don't know if it's

the fish nuggets

you ate,

Charlene's perfume,

the egg sandwich

someone's eating behind you,

or Coby's leftovers.

Whatever it is

sends you

running

out of the cafeteria

just as the volcano

of butterflies

in your belly

E
R
U P
T S.

Go wash up. I ordered pizza for dinner.

Nah.

Pineapple pepperoni.

Ugh.

You've already eaten?

Got a stomachache.

Drink some ginger ale. That'll help.

It just hurts. I need to lie down.

Are you in pain?

A little.

Come here, let me check your forehead.

Really? C'mon, Dad, I'm not a baby.

You're hot, Nick.

I just practiced for two hours, Dad. Course I'm hot. Good night.

Maybe you ate something bad today.

Cafeteria food is always bad. We had fish nuggets. Pretty nasty.

I'm gonna run out and get some activated charcoal.

Charcoal? Like for the grill?

Go get in bed, Nick.

G'night.

If you're sick, you probably shouldn't play tomorrow.

Oh, I'm playing in the match tomorrow.

Nicholas—

Dad, I'll be fine.

We'll see.

. . .

hungry, so you eat. Chips. Coke.

Thank goodness that's over. Bored,

you even read the Pelé book.

You and Coby

are on teams

that like each other

as much as crocs

and Kenyan wildebeests.

There's always

a skirmish

during

the matchup.

There's no beef

between you and Coby,

but you WILL go hard,

come with your A game,

'cause while winning

is wicked,

bragging about winning

is icing

on the steak.

You good, Nick?
Coby asks

at midfield

for the coin flip.

Good enough to beat

your sorry team, you answer.

Not gonna happen!

Pernell,

your co-captain,

jogs up.

Coby daps you,

then goes to shake

Pernell's hand,

but Pernell leaves

Coby hangin'.

(Told you it was a rivalry.)

Call it,
the ref says,

then tosses the quarter.

Coby calls tails
.

He loses.

You choose the ball.

Before Coby turns

to leave,

Pernell chides,

Sorry about that, chopstick,

then laughs,

but Coby laughs back,

then winks at him,

and Pernell is flummoxed

or pissed

or
both.

Both teams take their positions.

You know Coby's smile

is misleading.

He's ready to pounce.

You
pass to the forward, whose

shot stings like wasabi, then

disappears into net. BOO-YAH!

with the score 2–1,

Coby dribbles the ball

past two of our defenders,

speeds down the sidelines

like a cheetah,

then slants

toward the middle.