Hot Shot (3 page)

Julian smiled and thanked her before popping one of the drops into his mouth.

“Good?” Mrs. Cutler inquired with raised eyebrows.

“Fantastic,” Julian said through a delicious mouthful of peanut butter and chocolate. “Thanks again!”

Mrs. Cutler nodded. Then she left to help another customer.

Julian headed into the back room and slid into a space next to Mick. “Hey, bro, what’d you get?” he asked. “I got a hot fudge
sundae with peppermint ice cream.”

Mick sniffed the air, a confused look on his face. “Weird. Your peppermint smells a lot like peanut butter!”

Julian laughed and explained where the peanut butter smell was coming from. “She gave me three for free. Want one?” He held
out a drop.

Mick waved it away. “Nah, I can get them any time. Thanks, though.”

Julian was about to eat the drop himself when a hand swooped in and snatched it away.

“Hey!” He spun around just in time to see Grady toss the candy into the air and catch it in his mouth.

“Mmmm, thanks!” the other boy said.

Julian jumped up and grabbed Grady in a choke hold from behind. “I’ll teach you to steal my candy!” he cried as he rubbed
his knuckles though Grady’s hair.

“Okay! Okay! You want it back? Here!” Grady stuck out his tongue, showing everybody at the table the chocolate-peanut butter
sludge on it.

“Gross!”

“Ewww!”

“Aw, man, you just ruined my appetite!”

The mock-disgusted shouts mixed in with Grady’s laughter. He laughed even harder when Julian started knuckling his hair again.

Then suddenly a new voice joined the chatter.

“Are you guys fighting again?”

Julian and Grady froze. Then as one, they cried, “Barry!”

Julian let go of Grady and hurried to his friend’s side. Barry was leaning on his crutches. His right leg was encased in a
thick cast that had once been white but had turned a dull gray in the weeks he’d had it on. His left arm was wrapped in an
Ace bandage. His face still bore yellowish bruises and scars from the auto accident.

“What are you doing here?” Julian asked as he helped Barry to a seat.

“Gee, thanks, nice to see you, too,” Barry replied sarcastically.

“You know what I mean!”

Barry grinned. “Yeah, I know. Your mom called my mom a few minutes ago.” He nodded toward the door, where Mrs. Pryce was talking
with Mrs. Streeter. Then he narrowed his eyes and added, “Your mom’s been calling my mom a lot lately, actually. At first
I figured she wanted to know how I was doing. Turns out, she was asking my mom for advice about selling your house!”

Julian’s face turned hot with embarrassment. “Um, yeah, I meant to tell you—”

“—that you’re moving on Saturday?” Barry cut in. “So I hear. But not from you!”

“I’m sorry, Barry. I should have told you,” Julian admitted. “But I’ve been sort of denying it myself, I guess. Moving away
wasn’t my idea, after all!”

“Really?” Barry said. “It was such a lousy idea, I figured it
had
to be yours!”

Julian aimed a swing at Barry’s head. Barry ducked, laughing, and then called out, “Which one of you is going to get me some
ice cream?”

“I’ll get it,” Grady said, hopping to his feet.

“Thanks. I’ll have—”

“—a double scoop of lemon sherbet with hot caramel and whipped cream,” Julian and Grady said together.

“How’d you know?” Barry asked.

Grady rolled his eyes. “You get the same disgusting combination every time,” he said. “Be right back.”

Be right back. See you in a few. I’ll be over soon.
As of Saturday, Julian would no longer be saying any of those things to anyone here. Because he’d be moving away that day,
to a town where he knew exactly no one.

T
he next three days were a flurry of activity for Julian. On Thursday, he cleaned out his desk and his locker and said good-bye
to all his teachers and classmates. He didn’t go to school on Friday. Instead, he and his sister stayed home to help their
mother pack up the last of their belongings.

“It’s weird being home when everyone else is in school,” Megan said as she taped up a box of books in the living room.

“Yeah, I feel like I should have a fever or something,” Julian agreed. He reached for a stack of CDs.

Megan glanced at their mother, who was talking on the phone, and then leaned toward Julian. “I don’t know about you,” she
said in a low voice, “but I feel sick when I imagine walking into the new school our first day.”

Julian knew exactly what she meant. Every time he thought about being the new kid, his stomach somersaulted like an Olympic
gymnast going for a gold medal.

Mrs. Pryce hung up the phone. “So,” she said brightly, “how are things going? Need any more packing supplies?”

“No,” both Julian and Megan replied.

“Okay, then!” Mrs. Pryce bent down to pick up the box of books Megan had just taped shut. But when she lifted it, the bottom
flaps tore open. Books rained down on the floor below.

“Oh, no!” Megan cried. “I’m sorry, Mom! I guess I packed it too full.” She hurried over to clean up the mess.

Mrs. Pryce didn’t move. She just stood there, holding the broken box. Then finally she shook her head. “It’s okay, Megan,
just leave it for now. Come on, you two, let’s go to the kitchen and have a snack and a chat.”

Julian and Megan followed their mother into the kitchen. Much of that room had already been packed, but Mrs. Pryce found a
stack of paper plates and some cups. She put cookies on one plate and filled three cups with lemonade. That was the snack—but
the chat didn’t come as quickly. Instead, the only sounds in the kitchen were the crunch of cookie and the slurp of lemonade.

Finally, Mrs. Pryce said, “I know this move is tough on you guys. Believe me, if there was any way we could stay here, we
would. But we can’t. Dad’s new job is just too far away. If we didn’t move, he’d be on the road for more than three hours
each day. And that’s three hours he wouldn’t have to spend with us.”

Julian was about to say that he understood when there was a knock on the door. “I’ll get it,” he said.

When he opened the door he was surprised to find Barry and Mrs. Streeter on the other side. He stepped aside to let them in.
“What’re you doing here?” he asked Barry. “School doesn’t get out for another two hours!”

“I had a doctor’s appointment after lunch,” Barry replied. “I convinced Mom to bring me here instead of back to school.” He
grinned. “Getting my way has been the only good thing about this accident!”

“I heard that!” Mrs. Streeter called.

“Come on, let’s go to my room,” Julian said. Then he looked at Barry’s crutches. “If you think you can handle the stairs,
that is.”

“No sweat,” Barry said confidently. “How do you think I get to my own room every night?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Julian admitted.

“Yeah, that’s you all over—thoughtless!”

“Ha, ha,” Julian said. “At least let me take your backpack.”

“Nah, I can handle it.” As if to prove his point, Barry swung forward on his crutches, making his way out of the kitchen and
into the living room where he maneuvered deftly through the boxes and around the spilled books. Then he hopped up the stairs.

“At least your room hasn’t changed,” Barry said as he flopped down onto Julian’s bed. “Still filled with mementos from last
season, huh?” His voice sounded wistful.

“And one thing from this season, too,” Julian said, pointing to the autographed basketball. Then he took a framed photograph
of the previous year’s Tornadoes team from the wall and handed it to Barry. “There we all are, in our glory!”

Barry studied the photo for a moment and then put it aside. “You ever hear from Max? Or Art or Danny?”

Julian shook his head. “Do you?”

“Max, no. I see Art and Danny sometimes. But now that they’re in high school, well, you know…” He shrugged. “I sure hope you’re
better at staying in touch than they are.”

Julian smiled. “You’ll be hearing from me so often, it’ll be like I’m still here!”

Barry gave a little laugh. “If only!”

They were silent for a moment. Then Barry removed his backpack and opened it. “Got something for you,” he said. He pulled
out a wrapped box and handed it to Julian.

“What is it?” Julian asked.

“Uh, duh, you’re supposed to open it and find out!”

Julian tore off the paper and threw it at Barry. Then he looked at the box.
Cutler’s
was stamped in huge chocolate brown letters across the top. A huge grin split Julian’s face. “You didn’t!”

Barry waggled his eyebrows. “Mick, Grady, and I pooled our money to get them for you.”

Julian lifted the box’s lid. Inside were at least a hundred Triple Chocolate Peanut Butter Drops!

“Awesome!”

He reached in to take one. Barry slapped his hand away.

“Don’t eat them now!”

“Why not?”

“You’re supposed to save them until you get to your new house. Then, every time you eat some, you’ll think of us. And when
you do, you’ll pick up the phone and call. Or grab your cell and text. Or turn on your computer and e-mail. Or pick up a pen
and write!”

“Or send a carrier pigeon with a message tied to its leg! Or build a fire and make smoke signals!” Julian said, laughing.

“Morse code! Pony express! Semaphore flags! The options are endless!” Barry cried.

“Okay, I get it!” Julian said. “I’ll stay in touch, I promise! But you have to stay in touch with me too!”

Barry flopped back on the bed and waved his hand dismissively. “Me? No way, man. I’ll be too busy.”

Barry and his mother stayed for the rest of the afternoon and helped the Pryces pack. They stayed for pizza, too, and then
said their final good-byes.

The house seemed much emptier after they left. Julian went to his room, laid on his bed, and stared at his empty walls.

“It’s really happening,” he murmured. “We’re leaving tomorrow. And we’re not coming back.”

F
our days later, Julian walked down a long hallway behind his new school’s principal. Mrs. Oliver’s high heels rang out loudly
against the tile. One of Julian’s sneakers squeaked with every other step. Together, they sounded like an off-beat percussion
section in a band—clack-clack-squeak, clack-clack-squeak.

Then they reached Julian’s new classroom and the rhythm stopped. “Here we are, Julian.” Mrs. Oliver swept open the door and
stepped aside so he could walk in.

Julian had promised himself that he wouldn’t be nervous. But the moment he entered the room, his heart began to hammer in
his chest. There were only twenty-one kids in the class, but it seemed like hundreds!

“Ms. Pierce, this is the boy I was telling you about,” Mrs. Oliver said. “Julian Pryce, this is Ms. Pierce, your teacher.”

Ms. Pierce looked as sharp as her name—needlenosed, with bony arms and long, skinny fingers. But when she spoke, her voice
was soft and soothing. “Good morning, Julian,” she said. “Welcome to my class.”

Mrs. Oliver nodded and left. Julian stood awkwardly, unsure of what he should do next. To his relief, Ms. Pierce came to his
rescue.

“Take that empty desk,” she said, pointing toward a seat near the windows, “and stow your gear on the floor. I’ll find you
a locker later.”

Julian did as instructed. Then came the request he’d been dreading.

“Why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself?” Ms. Pierce suggested.

Twenty-one pairs of eyes turned to look at him.

Julian shifted in his seat. “Um, well, my name’s Julian. But I guess you know that already.”

He heard a few titters from the back of the class. Ms. Pierce frowned and the sound stopped.

“I’m thirteen,” Julian continued. “We moved here because my dad got a new job.”

He paused, unsure of what to say next.

“Do you have any hobbies, or play any sports?” Ms. Pierce prodded.

“I play basketball. I was my team’s starting center. We were called the Tornadoes. Maybe you heard of us? We went undefeated
last year.”

He looked around hopefully. Nobody responded. “Well, anyway, we were looking good this year too.” Thinking of his old team
made Julian’s throat close up. He stopped talking.

A tall boy in the back of the class cleared his throat. “You plan to play here?”

“I’ll be playing on a team called the Warriors.”

“Then you should know something.” The boy leaned forward, narrowed his eyes, and jabbed a finger at his chest. “
I’m
the starting center for the Warriors.”

“
Paul
,” Ms. Pierce admonished. “Please.”

Paul sat back but didn’t take his eyes off of Julian. Julian looked away.

Great,
he thought.
I’ve been here for all of five minutes and already I’ve made an enemy. And wouldn’t you know it’s a guy on my new team!

He made a silent vow to steer clear of Paul if he could. And he made good on that vow for the rest of the day—a day that passed
in a blur of changing classes, finding his locker and forgetting his lock combination, and sitting by himself during lunch.
He’d never been happier to hear the final bell ring.

Mrs. Pryce picked him and Megan up after school. Megan chatted gaily about the new friends she had made. Mrs. Pryce told them
that she’d made good progress in unpacking more of their belongings.

Julian barely listened. He was too busy worrying about what was to happen one hour from now: his first practice with the Warriors.

So much for avoiding Paul,
he thought.

When he got home, he had a quick snack and changed into his basketball clothes. Then he set off for the town’s community center.
The center had a basketball court, weight rooms, batting cages, and an Olympicsize pool. The complex was only a few blocks
from his house. Still, Julian walked briskly. He didn’t want to be late and give Paul reason to come down on him.

Another team was just finishing its turn on the court when he arrived. Julian sat down to watch them.

They were high school players by the looks of them. One player in particular caught Julian’s eye, for two reasons. First,
he looked so much like Paul that at first, Julian thought it
was
Paul. But then he heard another player call him Peter, so he decided the two must be related, perhaps even brothers.