10
“SO WHAT DO YOU THINK OF RUSS?” Coach asks.
Here’s what comes to mind: It’s like Russ has created a force field of weirdness around himself, but as that sounds like crazy talk, I keep my mouth shut.
“It’s a lot to take in at first,” Coach says. “My guess is that some of it’s just an act to keep certain people at bay. I think he might be pretending to protect himself, but what do I know? The boy’s been through a lot. I appreciate your coming tonight. Do you think you could maybe show Russ around next week when school starts?”
“Of course.”
“And keep Russell’s secret too?”
“Yes, sir.”
When we pull up to my house, Coach shakes my hand and says, “You’re a real good kid, Finley. You do know that, right?”
I smile and hop out of the truck.
Inside Pop’s playing War with Erin at the kitchen table. Their stacks of cards are just about even. Pop slams each card like he’s trying to karate chop a board in half, while Erin places hers lightly on the table. Whenever Erin wins she says something like, “Ah, too bad, Mr. McManus. Maybe next time, old-timer.” I love it when she’s sarcastic. So does Pop. I can tell because of the smile he tries to hide.
“So,” Pop says, “what’s the new kid like?”
I don’t know how to answer. I don’t want to say how weird he is, and I don’t want to betray him by giving away his secrets, so I just shrug.
“Can you believe this dumb mute?” Pop says to Erin. “Couldn’t get a word out of ’im if you beat ’im with a stick.”
“I forfeit. You win, Pop,” Erin says and then leads me by the hand toward my bedroom.
“Get back here, missy! I got all your aces!” Pop says. “Play it out! This is War!”
But we’re already halfway up the stairs.
We open the screen window, hop out onto the roof, and lie down.
We make out for a little while, which feels pretty nice, and then Erin lays her head on my chest and says, “Did Coach take you to meet a new player?”
“A new student.” I run my fingers through her hair and massage her scalp. She loves that.
“Was he nice?”
“Yeah. He was.”
“What’s his name?”
“Boy21.”
Erin laughs, like I’m joking.
So I say, “Russ Washington.”
And then my hand makes its way down her back and we kiss some more.
When we finish, we don’t talk. We just lie there looking up at the half-moon until it’s time for me to walk her home.
After gazing into her eyes for what seems like a long time, I kiss Erin good night on her porch, and then leave.
It was an awesome roof night, especially since Erin is a very good kisser, but I’m not thinking about Erin right now. I’m surprised to find myself thinking about Boy21.
I feel weird.
I feel worried.
I feel sorry for Boy21 because his parents were murdered and he thinks he’s from outer space, but, then, his knowing so much about constellations is pretty interesting. He seems very smart—intelligent enough to pretend convincingly, which makes me wonder if Coach’s theory is correct, if Boy21 is just acting.
What if Boy21 snaps out of it by basketball season?
If he’s even half as good as Coach thinks he is, I’ll lose my starting position.
And yet Coach picks me to help Boy21.
If I help him, I could end up riding the pine this season, and if I don’t help Boy21 acclimate to Bellmont, I’d be disobeying Coach for the first time in my life.
Boy21’s parents were murdered, I tell myself. Murdered. Don’t be selfish!
My mind also says, But this is your senior year, your last season, and Erin and you have worked so hard on your game….
Does he really truly believe that he’s from outer space?
Will he want my number?
I also wonder if we’ll maybe end up being friends—real friends.
I’ve never really had a good guy friend.
It’s always just been Erin.
Boy21 and I have already sat in silence together, and on the first night we met too.
What was it about the green constellations?
I stop walking.
“I like your dwelling pod,” Boy21 says. He’s standing very rigidly in front of my house, like he’s really nervous.
“How did you get here?” I ask.
“I have a map for this sector of Earth. I never go anywhere on your planet without a map.”
“Why are you here?”
“I was sent to your planet to gather scientific data on what you Earthlings call emotions.”
“No. Why are you standing in front of my house right now?”
“I saw you lying on your roof. Behind that big tree over there across the street, I politely waited for your love partner to leave.”
I just stare up at Boy21.
He was spying on me, which should freak me out, but for some reason I don’t feel angry. I’m mostly curious about why he came to my house at all.
“Can we sit up there together and identify all we see in the cosmos?” he asks, and then points toward the roof.
I don’t know why but—suddenly, almost involuntarily—I nod once, and then he follows me into my house.
My dad—who picked up an extra one-to-nine-a.m. Friday-night shift and is therefore leaving for work—says, “Are you the new kid?”
“Is that the English-language human term you will call me, Earthling?” Boy21 says. “New kid?”
“Did he just call me Earthling?” Dad says to me. His expression makes him look uncomfortable, like he’s squinting directly into the sun.
I shrug.
“Your grandparents are worried about you,” Dad says to Boy21, staring in disbelief at the N.A.S.A. T-shirt. “Coach called asking if you were here. I’ll just give him a ring back now to let him know where you are.”
Dad goes into the other room to make the call.
From his wheelchair Pop says, “The neighborhood people don’t know you, son. It’s not safe to walk across town at night alone.”
“Nothing on this planet can possibly harm me,” Boy21 says.
Pop says, “I wish that were true, but it ain’t.”
Dad returns and says, “Coach is coming to pick up Russ. You two can wait out front if you want to talk. But I need to go to work now.”
When my dad leaves, we sit on the front steps and Boy21 says, “I’d like to sit with you on your roof in the future and teach you about my home—outer space. You have a calming presence, Finley. Would it be possible to sit on your roof with you in the future?”
No one has ever told me that I have a calming presence. Maybe people think it, but they just don’t say it. “Sure,” I say.
I like the words calming presence much more than White Rabbit or dumb mute.
Calming presence.
I search his face, trying to determine if he’s making fun of me or being ironic, but he’s not—he’s one hundred percent serious, or at least I believe he is.
We sit in silence until a tired-looking Coach pulls up ten minutes later, smiles an embarrassed thank-you to me, and takes Russ away in his truck.
I lie awake all night thinking about Boy21.
11
THE NIGHT BEFORE SCHOOL BEGINS Erin and I are making out on my roof when suddenly she pulls away and says, “Is that Coach’s truck?”
I sit up, peer down over the edge of the gutter, and see the old Ford.
“Finley!” Dad yells from the living room.
Erin and I slide through my bedroom window and jog down the stairs.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Coach says. He and Dad share a smile.
“No,” Erin says. “Nothing at all.”
“Take a drive with me, Finley?” Coach says.
“Sure thing.”
“We’ll only be ten minutes, Erin. Promise,” Coach says.
“No sweat.” Erin plops onto the couch and takes the remote control from Pop’s hand, because he’s passed-out drunk again with my grandmother’s rosary beads wrapped tightly around his left fist like brass knuckles. There’s a green Jameson whiskey bottle between his legs. “I’ll just watch some TV with my favorite senior citizen.”
Dad shakes his head at Pop’s state, but no one says anything.
As we get into Coach’s truck, I see sweat beads on his forehead and dark spots on his shirt where he has sweated through the fabric. It’s a hot sticky night, but I can tell Coach is nervous.
He drives me around the block, and then parks with the engine running, the air-conditioning on full blast, which feels nice because we don’t have air-conditioning at my house.
“Are you still willing to help Russ?” Coach asks.
I know what he wants me to say, so I say it.
“Good. Here’s the situation,” Coach says. “It took some convincing, but the boy’s agreed to stop talking about outer space and go by Russ Washington. No more Boy21—at least not in school. But given the stress of classes and a new environment, there’s no guarantee that he might not slip back into his routine, so I want you to stick by him. I want you by his side every second of the day. If he has to take a leak, you go with him. Understood?”
It sounds like Coach is preparing me to mark a man in a basketball game, because he’s raising his voice like he does in huddles. He’s being more forceful, and it’s like I’m not doing him a favor anymore, but just doing what I am supposed to do as a member of the basketball team. I’m willing to help, but I feel like the circumstances have changed somehow. Or am I just being paranoid?
“What if we’re not in the same classes?” I ask.
“Don’t worry about that. What time should I tell Mr. Allen to drop off Russ?”
“Drop him off where?”
“At your house, so you can walk to school together.”
Erin and I always walk to school together alone, and that’s my favorite part of the day. I like talking to Erin first thing in the morning, and kissing her too. I think quick and say, “Can Mr. Allen drop Russ off at Erin’s house around seven twenty?”
“Done.”
This way, I can go to Erin’s at seven and spend at least twenty minutes with her alone. It’ll mean waking up a bit earlier, but I don’t mind.
“Finley.”
“Yes.”
Coach reaches over and squeezes my shoulder. “This Russ—he’s special. His doing well here at Bellmont means a lot to me. His father was a close friend.”
I nod.
“You won’t let me down, right?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Seven twenty at Erin’s house. What number is hers?”
I actually can’t remember, so I say, “Just a block down the street from mine. We’ll be sitting on the front steps. Mr. Allen won’t be able to miss us.”
“And you didn’t tell Erin anything about the situation, right?”
“No more than necessary.”
“Thank you for that. Let’s keep Russ’s true identity a secret at least until basketball season is under way.”
I want to ask Coach about my starting position—how he can ask me to help the kid who’s threatening to take it away—but I don’t say anything and Coach drives me home.
When we pull up to my house, he says, “Just tell Erin and your folks we were talking hoops, okay? They don’t need to know our secret.”
I nod. I’m a little uncomfortable with this secret, but when your coach gives you an assignment, you do it.