A Time to Run Read online

  He nodded but didn't say anything. I'd only seen Sam cry once and that's when they lost the City Championship the year before. "Don't you like it?" I asked.

  He touched it. Then he flopped his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes.

  "Are you tired? My mom told me that you might be tired and I should be quiet."

  This made him open his eyes and sort of laugh. "I bet she did tell you that." He paused. "How's school going? You being cool to your new aide?"

  I shrugged. "He can't catch me. He's slow."

  "You gotta stop running, Little Man."

  "I like running."

  Sam blew air out of his mouth and ran his hand through his hair. "I do too," he said. He exhaled again.

  Sam and I talked a little bit longer about different stuff, like the guys on the team and school and how I made the bracelet. I told him every step.

  Then he asked, "How's Best Buddies?"

  I shrugged. "I dunno."

  "Didn't you go to dodgeball today?"

  I shook my head.

  "Why not? You like dodgeball."

  "You weren't there."

  "You can go without me."

  "It wouldn't be very fun."

  "If they're still doing that I Can Play soccer event with the other schools, you should go. You'd get to run lots there. Be good for you."

  I looked away and stared at the bracelet instead. I didn't want to talk about Best Buddies. Sam was my Best Buddy, so if he wasn't there, I wasn't going to do anything they planned.

  "There's things I can't do anymore." He started to spin the basketball bead around. "Like play basketball."

  "Why?" My voice echoed in the room. I could feel my body start to buzz. I hated what he had just told me. He had to play. He was the captain, the best player.

  "You have to play!" And I stared at him.

  "Shhh," he said. "Not so loud." Then he opened his pajamas and showed me a sore he had on his chest. It had a patch over it, but I could see that it was a little red. Like a cut.

  "See this?" he said.

  "What is it?"

  "They put something inside me to help my heart. Make it work properly. But because I have to have it, I can't play basketball anymore."

  "You're the one who takes the ball down the court and you score and you pass to Cecil so he can score." My words were shooting out of my mouth, like they were on a high-speed chase.

  "I can't," he said. "The doc said no."

  "I don't want to be the water boy, then," I said.

  "Come on, dude. Stay with the team until the end," he said. "They need you. Anyway, it's just one more game."

  "NO!" The word just flew out of my mouth. It was on my tongue and I had to say it.

  My mother burst in the room and said, "Is everything okay in here? Maybe we should get going. Let Sam get some rest."

  Sam put his hand up for me to slap it. "I am tired, Little Man. Your mom is right. You should get going because I do need some sleep. But I'll see you at school soon."

  "I'm not going to fill the water bottles if you're not playing."

  This time he just said. "Okay. Your choice." Then he closed his eyes as if he was tired. Sam never got tired.

  My mother touched my arm, but she didn't look at me and instead glanced at Sam. "Thanks for seeing him. I know this must be difficult for you."

  He rolled his head on the pillow and opened his eyes, but he didn't sit up. "Thanks for coming," he said. "Appreciate the bracelet." He held up his fist.

  I tapped his fist with mine and then my mom and I left. I didn't talk on the walk to the car or during the drive home. When we got to our house, I went right to the refrigerator, opened it, and stood there.

  "Are you okay?" my mother asked me.

  "That hospital was gross," I said. "It stunk." I shut the door of the fridge. I could see nothing I wanted to eat. I went to the pantry. "When is Sam getting out?"

  "In a few days," she said. "We're having dinner soon. It's your favourite. Dad's going to barbeque steaks and I've got baked potatoes, asparagus, plus apple crisp for dessert. Mary and Randy are coming tonight. And I think she's bringing the spinach salad you like."

  I grabbed a couple of crackers from a box in the pantry and munched on them at the kitchen table while I waited for Randy and Mary to arrive. My mom tried to get me to do some homework, but I drew cartoons on the paper instead. I hate homework. Usually I hate school, but Sam made it okay. Now it sucked.

  Mom gave up trying to make me do my homework and made me set the table instead. I'd way rather set the table. Randy showed up as I was putting the last plate down. As soon as he walked in the kitchen, he gave me a high-five like he always did. He wasn't as tall as my dad, but he had way bigger biceps than me or Declan. Declan and Randy loved lifting weights together. I sometimes went with them, but I was so small I couldn't lift half of what they lifted so I hated going. I'd rather run, anyway. Randy told me I had a running build because I was so skinny and light. Randy had played football too, like my dad, but quit because he got hurt too many times, especially concussions, which means he got hit on the head. When I was first adopted we used to go to his games. He was in university then.

  "How's it going?" he asked. He put a bottle of wine down on the table. "How's your buddy, Sam?"

  "I dunno," I said.

  "That's okay," he said. "I can ask Mom."

  "He can't play basketball anymore," I said. "So, I don't want to help on the bench." These thoughts had been running and running through my mind.

  "You shouldn't give up on your team," said Randy. "When you signed up you made a commitment to the team, not just to Sam."

  "None of them like me. Except Sam."

  "That's not true. Cecil does," said Randy. "I've seen him talking to you. So does that Craig guy. Man, has he improved. Anyway, it's not about them liking you. It's about you doing a job you said you would do. Right?" He arched his eyebrows when he said the word right as if he was right. Then he slung his arm around me.

  I felt the buzzing start inside my body and I moved away from him.

  "Randy's right," said my mother. "A commitment is a commitment, and they only have one more game. I think you could do one more game."

  Why didn't they just understand? I DIDN'T WANT TO DO THE LAST GAME.

  "I won't do it if Sam isn't there!" I yelled at them.

  Randy held up both his hands. "Okay. Okay. Sorry I said anything."

  Suddenly, I didn't want to be in the house. And I didn't want to talk about Sam. I bolted as fast as I could to the front door, flung it open, and started running down our driveway. I hit the sidewalk and ran, pumping my arms and legs, moving as fast as I could. I could hear footsteps behind me, but I kept running. I had made it all the way to the end of the street before I stopped. I wanted to keep going but my legs felt like jelly. And my heart was pounding. So I stopped and leaned over. My breath came out in gasps.

  "Geez…," said Randy.

  I glanced at him out of the corner of my eyes. He had his hands on his knees and was leaning over. His back went up and down as he breathed. "I'm gonna puke."

  I stood back up. "You didn't catch me."

  "No." He stood up too and his face was red and he was still gasping for his breath. "I didn't," he said. "You're fast." He paused and put his hand to his heart. "And I think I'm out of shape. I haven't run like that since my football days."

  "I'm faster than you," I said.

  He laughed. "You are at that."

  All my bad feelings were gone, and I laughed too.

  "Come on," he said. "Let's go back. Mom's making a good meal. One we don't want to miss."

  We didn't talk as we walked, at least not at first. Then he said, "Have you ever thought of running cross country or track and field? I think you'd be good at it."

  "Sam said the same thing," I replied.

  We arrived back at the house just as Mary was pulling up in her car. Her and her husband, Lewis, got out and she waved at us. Lewis had hair that look
ed like the colour of a pumpkin and a gazillion freckles. Craig's nickname was Ging, but Owen's was Red. Mary and him always laughed when they talked about what their baby would look like when it was born. Would it have red hair or black hair? Fair skin or black skin? Green eyes or dark brown eyes? Special mix, she said. She wore a coat but I could still see her big stomach.

  "You out for a little walk before dinner?" she asked. She held a bowl in her hands that was covered in tin foil.

  "More like a sprint," said Randy.

  We all went into the house and I could smell the BBQ. Mary always helped Mom in the kitchen but today Mom shushed her away and asked me to help. Having a baby got Mary out of doing a lot of work. I put stuff on the table and when Declan came down, he helped too. I was coming back into the kitchen, when I saw Mary and Mom looking at something that was on a piece of paper.

  "What are you looking at?" I asked.

  Mary turned around and grinned. "An ultrasound of our baby. Come look." She gestured that I should come over. Mary talked with her hands a lot.

  I went over to them and stared at this black and white piece of paper that didn't really look like much of anything but a big blur. Then Mary pointed to the middle of the picture. "This is our baby." She almost sang her words.

  I squinted and looked at it and what I saw was something that was all curled up and looked more like a big blob or a sleeping mouse.

  "Look." Mary laughed and pointed to a spot on the paper. "He's sucking his thumb."

  My mother stared at her. "Did you just say 'he'?"

  Mary nodded and giggled. "I couldn't wait," she said. "So I asked. They said it's a boy!" Then they hugged.

  "What's going on in here?" Declan asked as he came into the kitchen.

  My mom smiled, such a big smile. "Mary is having a boy."

  "Do you want to look at the ultrasound photo too?" Mary asked Declan.

  He shrugged, but he looked at it just like I did. "It doesn't look like a baby," he said. I agreed with him.

  Once again, Mary pointed out the baby and how 'he' was sucking his thumb. Then Declan said, "Our mother drank alcohol when we looked like this?"

  My mother put her arm around Declan. "Declan, she had a problem. But that's why Mary won't have any wine at dinner."

  "I hate our mother," he said. "She made me stupid."

  "You shouldn't hate her," said Mary. "And you're not stupid. You just learn differently."

  My mother picked up the bowl Mary had brought. "How about we sit down at the table and talk about this." As we walked into the dining room (where we ate when Mary and Randy and Lewis come over), she glanced at me. "You coming?"

  "I dunno."

  "You should hate her too!" snapped Declan.

  "Well, I don't!" I yelled back. Declan was always trying to tell me what to do. Why would I hate someone I didn't know anymore? I hadn't seen her since I was little.

  "Boys, let's just sit down."

  I was about to run again when Randy put his arm around me. "Dad made your steak just how you like it."

  I wanted steak more than I wanted to run. But I didn't want to talk about her. She had put me in the closet, and it was dark, and she liked to pinch me and squeeze my arm so tight her nails dug in my skin and made me bleed. Why would I want to talk about her?

  ****

  At school the next day, Justin saw me in the hall and stopped to talk to me.

  "Hey, Stuart. We missed you at Best Buddies dodgeball yesterday."

  "Sam's not there," I said.

  "You can still come. Everyone was asking about you."

  I shook my head.

  "Okay. We talked about the I Can Play day yesterday. It should be a lot of fun. You'll like it because it's soccer and running."

  I shoved my hands in my pockets and still didn't want to talk.

  He patted my shoulder. "It's not for another month," he said. "I'm sure Sam will be back by then."

  "He can't play basketball anymore," I said. "I visited him and he showed me the thing they put under his skin to make his heart work."

  "I had a talk with the group about Sam yesterday, and why he was in the hospital."

  "Hospitals stink," I said.

  "He told me you made him a bracelet. Sounds pretty cool. Maybe we could do something like that as a group one day. You could show us how."

  "I'm not going to sit on the bench if he's not there."

  He patted my back. "I know this is hard on you. But maybe you should rethink your role on the team. They still need you."

  "I don't want to."

  "Well, Sam might not be able to play basketball, but he can still do Best Buddies. That's good news, right?"

  CHAPTER SIX SAM

  I heard them before I saw them. Big feet smacking on the waxed hospital floors. Belly laughter. Pumped voices. Loud and slightly obnoxious. Not even capable of being quiet in a hospital because…they were all still on a huge high. My basketball team.

  "Hey," I said when they came in the room. I sat up taller in my bed, trying to look excited. But, seriously, all I wanted to do was curl into a ball and hide. "I heard the news." Yes, I was going to try. "Congrats!"

  Cecil carried boxes of pizza, our pizza, the place we always went to after games, practices, nights out. Team pizza. The nurses had given them the okay to come see me. Not too long, they said.

  I held up my hand and the guys high-fived me. Slap. Slap. Slap. With the group of them congregated around my bed, Coach Nelson held up his hand. Immediately the room went silent. The guys all looked at me. Then Coach Nelson handed me a medal. "You led this team all year and because of your leadership, we won the City Championship. Congratulations, Sam."

  The guys erupted into whistles and hoots and hollers. I took the medal, and looked down at it, mainly because I didn't want anyone to see how fast my eyes were blinking. Tears. They were there. Right behind my eyes. I'd missed our final game, my last shot at a City Championship final. This medal was for winning the basketball game I didn't get to play in.

  "Thanks," I said. I touched it, feeling the rough edges of the lettering. Okay. I had to force happiness. We'd won and that meant celebration time. I sucked in a deep breath and looked up.

  "Appreciate this, guys," I said. "I heard you killed it. Cec-Man, thanks for taking the 'C'."

  "It was yours all the way," said Cecil. "We missed you."

  "Yeah. Missed you too." I couldn't talk about this anymore. "Let's have some pizza," I swung my movable hospital tray toward the pizza boxes.

  Cecil dumped the boxes on it and Ging produced some serviettes. The box was opened and hands grabbed. I wasn't hungry. I was happy for my team, really happy, but it sucked, and inside I had these sick feelings in my stomach because I knew this was the end of this for me. This. This team camaraderie, spirit, energy, guys. All focused on the same outcome. Highs and lows. Drama.

  I hadn't told any of the guys that I couldn't play anymore. Especially Cecil. We'd both been accepted to the University of Alberta to play varsity on the best university team in the country. We were supposed to stay together. Room in a dorm. Live the campus athlete life. Win a collegiate championship together. Now that dream was squashed. I didn't even know if I wanted to go to that university. Why should I? I was going to that school for one reason only: basketball. It chose me more than I chose it.

  The chatter continued as the pizza was devoured. No one noticed that I only ate one piece. Even that amount sat like lead in my stomach. The guys rehashed the game and I listened. I chimed in here and there, asking questions.

  Finally, a nurse strolled in. "Boys, I know this is a big night, but it's time to shut the party down."

  Coach Nelson nodded. "Okay, guys, let's head out. Pizza boxes go with us."

  "Rookies," said Cecil. "Your job."

  As a couple of the younger guys cleaned up the boxes, Cecil stood beside me. He held his hand to his ear, miming a phone call. "Tomorrow," he said.

  I nodded.

  He squished his eyebrows togeth
er and stared at me. "You're gonna be okay, bro."

  I sucked in a deep breath and held up my thumb. I knew if I tried to speak, my voice would crack.

  After everyone left, the nurse said, "So, your chart says you're leaving us tomorrow."

  "Yeah," I said. "I can't wait."

  "I bet you can't. It was nice of your team to come by."

  "I hope they weren't too loud," I said.

  "They were fine. Short and sweet. Big night for everyone. My daughter went to the game."

  "Yeah." I got the word out before my throat clogged. I turned my head. I couldn't let her see my eyes. Big night all right, and I'd missed it.

  She finished doing what she was supposed to do and left me alone. I picked up my phone and checked all my text messages. I had ten from Stuart. Obviously, he was using Declan's phone.

  I leaned my head back on the pillow. I didn't want to go back to school tomorrow. I didn't want everyone asking me questions, treating me like some invalid, or worse, like some hero, snapping photos to make me "trend" again. The only thing I wanted to "trend" for was scoring baskets, winning championships. And I didn't want to go to the pep rally on Friday where they would raise the City Championship banner to the ceiling. I know, I know—that's a horrible attitude. But it's how I felt. Was I pissed that I didn't get to play? That's a given. Was I happy my team had won? Of course. That's a given too. But did I want to join all the celebrations that went with the win? Not really.