Rebound Read online

  Write about what?

  How you’re feeling. What’s going on in your life. Like, in a diary or something.

  Nah.

  Scientific studies have proven that writing in a journal can keep you healthier, emotionally and physically.

  I can eat broccoli if I want to be healthier.

  Beethoven, Picasso, even George Lucas, the guy who made Star Wars, had journals. It works, Charlie.

  No thanks, I say, pulling my hand away fast, and walking away faster. Woodrow Wilson’s waiting. Let’s go.

  I can’t stand that name.

  Yeah, me either.

  Renaming

  Woodrow Wilson sees CJ

  then strolls

  toward her,

  burying her head

  in her lap.

  That’s a good girl, CJ says, playing with her. Look at those big delicious ears. Let’s play with her.

  She’s blind in one eye, remember?

  That’s okay. She can still see in the other, right, Woodrow Wilson? I don’t think she’s a Woodrow, Charlie.

  It’s her name, I say.

  Well, now she’ll have a new one.

  You can’t just change her name though.

  We’ll say it’s her nickname if anyone asks, she counters. Here, come pet her a little.

  I already did.

  Come do it again, please, she says, like she’s my mother and whatnot. I do it, cautiously.

  Okay, there. Happy?

  See, that wasn’t bad. You liked that right, Harriet?

  Wait, that’s her nickname? Harriet?

  Harriet Tubman.

  The Underground Railroad lady?

  She was a nurse, too. And a spy.

  Like CIA?

  Like Civil War spy.

  You’re like an encyclopedia.

  Is that a compliment?

  I guess.

  I’m thirsty.

  Me too, it’s hotttt!

  Eighty-nine degrees and it’s gonna get even hotter.

  Let’s drop Wood— Harriet off and go get some sodas.

  Cool.

  Cool.

  I’ll miss you, Charlie Bell, she says, punching me in the stomach again.

  Me and CJ

  walk and play

  with Harriet

  (well, CJ does most

  of the playing)

  for the next five days,

  and Mrs. Wilson

  even makes us

  chocolate chip cookies

  one day,

  but while she’s watching

  her favorite TV show,

  General Hospital,

  she forgets

  they’re in the oven

  and they burn

  so she gives us

  three dollars

  to get some snacks

  from the Quik-Mart.

  On Friday

  we walk around

  the block

  twice

  ’cause we know

  it’s our last time

  and I think

  Harriet knows it too,

  ’cause when we get

  back to her porch

  she sits

  her ginormous butt

  right between us

  and sprawls herself

  all over us

  so we literally

  can’t move.

  Farewell

  What did you get on your report card?

  Bs and Cs. What’d you get, all As?

  I wish. Mrs. Toney gave me a B.

  Sorry.

  The whole class got a B, ’cause Mrs. Toney believes that if one person is being disruptive it’s all of our faults.

  That sucks.

  You want a Now and Later?

  No thanks.

  It’s watermelon, your favorite.

  I’m good.

  Charlie Bell, you LOVE watermelon Now and Laters.

  I’ve already had like eight today.

  Is there some law I don’t know about that says you can only eat eight Now and Laters?

  Should be. Nine’s unlucky.

  What are you talking about?

  My dad.

  . . .

  . . .

  Well, I guess I’ll eat it then, Charlie Bell.

  I gotta go. I’ll see you tonight at the skating rink.

  A kiss first?

  A KISS? HUH?

  Harriet. Kiss her goodbye. Or at least hug her. She knows you’re leaving us.

  Yuck, I’m not kissing her, I say, rubbing her instead. And not freaking out.

  The Rink

  Decked out

  in our silver

  Members Only jackets

  and Jordache jeans,

  we hit the floor.

  Roll . . . Bounce . . . Skate . . . Roll

  The music, pumping

  the beat, thumping

  we’re gliding

  sliding

  forward

  backward

  Roll

  Bounce

  Skate

  Roll

  Wait for it . . . Here comes

  the big move . . .

  The Big Move

  Me and Skinny are supposed

  to part

  like the Red Sea

  so CJ can dash through

  with the jump twist

  while we all bust

  a REVERSE

  at the same time

  and the crowd goes wild

  except

  none of that happens

  because apparently

  Skinny

  didn’t tie

  his laces

  tight enough

  so he trips, falls

  and the only thing

  he busts

  is his butt

  and our whole routine.

  I’m sorry, guys

  That trophy was ours. Dang, Skinny!

  I said sorry.

  It’s okay—there’s another contest this summer. We’ll practice more, CJ says, patting him on the back.

  Well, let me know how it goes, I say, sitting down to take off my skates.

  What, you’re quitting on us, Charlie?

  No, he’s going to stay with his grandparents for the summer.

  Really?

  Yeah.

  Yo, that’s the worst.

  Yep.

  Where do they live?

  Near Washington.

  That’s like all the way near California.

  It’s nowhere near California, Skinny. It’s Washington, DC, like four hours from here, CJ corrects him.

  Oh. So what are you gonna do up there all summer?

  I don’t know . . . read comics, watch TV. Probably go see all the monuments and whatnot.

  And listen to old people snore.

  Probably.

  Sounds real fun, Charlie.

  Guys, let’s focus on the positive here. It’s summertime. We can stay up late reading, go to the beach, fish, and go to the library. Don’t forget about the “I Read 100 Books” contest—

  Charlie, if our best friend is a nerd, does that make us nerds too? Skinny says, less like

  a question,

  more like

  a sad fact,

  shaking his head, and

  high-fiving me,

  but before I can

  high-five back,

  and before I can

  start untying my laces,

  the DJ plays

  a slow rap song

  by LL COOL J

  and CJ pulls me

  out on the floor

  to skate.

  Skating with CJ

  You know girls and boys have different brains.

  So.

  Girls talk earlier than boys. We have larger vocabularies, and we use more complex sentence structures.

  . . .

  Charlie, on average, girls say two to three times more words per day than boys and even speak faster—twice as many words per minute. The list goes
on—

  Great, thanks for sharing your list.

  Sorry, I get nervous when I get shy and I talk a lot about science and National Geographic and stuff

  You talk a lot all the time.

  Not around everybody.

  . . .

  Have a great summer, Charlie Bell.

  You too, CJ.

  If I write you, will you write me back?

  I don’t know, maybe.

  Well, bye, she says,

  and kisses me

  on the cheek,

  and, just like that,

  lets go

  of my hand,

  and skates away,

  and my heart

  almost jumps

  out of my chest.

  Doomsday

  After I put

  our suitcases

  in the car

  I sit

  on the steps

  reading

  and waiting

  for Mom

  to ruin

  my life.

  Hey, Charlie!

  Hey!

  Conversation with Skinny

  On my way to shoot some hoops, he says, bouncing his ball.

  Cool.

  Which one is that?

  Number forty-eight.

  Any good?

  I’ve read it before.

  Must be, then.

  Yeah. Galactus and Silver Surfer are about to devour the planet.

  Whoa!

  Doomsday.

  Yo, it’s hot out here.

  CJ says it’s gonna be one of the hottest summers ever.

  Hey, watch this, he says, trying (and failing) to spin the ball on his forefinger.

  . . .

  So you’re leaving?

  Uh-huh.

  Dag, man.

  . . .

  Who’s gonna walk Woodrow?

  Harriet.

  Who’s Harriet?

  CJ’s gonna walk her.

  Cool.

  Cool.

  Guess what?

  What?

  My mom’s bringing me to Washington, DC, this summer.

  Really?

  Yep! I’m going to Six Flags with my cousins and my aunt. Maybe you can come.

  Maybe.

  Sorry you got in trouble with your mom.

  . . .

  Sorry about messing up in the contest, too, Charlie.

  Yeah.

  I’m gonna practice this summer. I’ll be ready for the next contest, believe that.

  That’s cool!

  Yeah, I’m gonna make a change this summer, Charlie. The man—

  In the mirror. Yeah, I know, Skinny, I say, laughing.

  Later, he says, taking off down the street, bouncing the ball a mile a minute. HAVE A GREAT SUMMER!

  YOU TOO! I scream back as he trips over his own feet and hits the pavement.

  Steaming

  It’s hot

  and raining.

  The music

  she’s listening to

  reminds me

  of the skating rink

  but it sounds

  less cool

  coming from

  her car radio.

  I look

  out the window

  counting

  raindrops

  for what must be hours

  ’cause we’ve been driving

  forever.

  No one says

  a word.

  Five minutes later

  I look at my watch, and think

  this is going to be an

  incredibly long trip.

  68 Minutes Later

  Let’s play some Luther Vandross.

  Do we have to?

  Would you rather listen to something else?

  Yes, I say, wondering why Dad’s music is still in the car and why she’s playing it now.

  You hungry? she asks, after a long pause.

  Uh-huh.

  We can stop for lunch. There’s a Shoney’s coming up.

  KFC.

  I’m going to need more than one-word answers, Charlie.

  K. F. C.

  Okay then, Shoney’s it is.

  NOOO! I don’t want that. Can we just go to Kentucky Fried Chicken?

  Well, that’s better. We sure can. But, let’s do drive-thru—I don’t want to lose time.

  116 Minutes

  As I pick

  at my food

  and count

  each raindrop

  that hits

  my window,

  she listens

  to Dad’s favorite song

  over and over

  and tries

  to pretend

  like she’s only

  sniffling,

  but I know

  she’s crying

  because sometimes

  a song

  can remind you

  of something

  you’re trying

  to forget.

  132 Minutes

  I thought you were hungry, she says.

  I was.

  But you didn’t even finish your four-piece.

  My stomach hurts. It’s too hot in here.

  It’s probably from all that candy. I told you about those Now or Laters!

  It’s Now AND Laters.

  She turns the air

  conditioning up

  a little,

  then turns

  the radio

  up

  a lot and we go back

  to what

  we were doing

  before.

  158 Minutes

  Charlie, being quiet doesn’t mean

  we can’t think of what to say.

  Sometimes it means

  we’re trying

  not to say it.

  Huh?

  Let’s do this, she says. I’ll ask you

  a question,

  then you ask me

  a question,

  and we’ll just keep asking

  each other questions

  until we can get

  some answers. Okay?

  Don’t you have to concentrate on the road?

  . . .

  Okay, fine, I say, but I’m not going first.

  Questions

  What do you call it when two chips break up?

  That’s not how it goes.

  How does it go?

  It’s “What do you call it when two chips are in love?”

  What do you call it when two chips fall in love?

  A relation-dip, I say, trying not to smile. Can we not play this stupid game?

  Where is my old Charlie, my fun Charlie, who makes me laugh till I cry? I want him back.

  . . .

  Are you going to at least try, Charlie?

  Okay, fine! Did you love Dad?

  Why would you ask a thing like that?

  Then why do you just act like everything’s normal?

  Is that what you think?

  What am I supposed to think?

  Charlie, things will never be normal for me again.

  Only questions, remember?

  Forget about that right now. Just talk to me, Charl—

  Answers

  OKAY . . . It’s unfair . . . It’s just unfair . . . Everything was fine at the hospital and then it wasn’t, and I just don’t understand . . . We were all talking like everything was normal . . . I was cracking jokes and whatnot, and he was smiling, and you were gone to the bathroom, and then he just started shaking, and he was looking at me, but it was like he was looking through me, and it was like he wasn’t even there, and then he said something, and I couldn’t understand it, and you hadn’t come back yet, and I didn’t know what to do, and then he was breathing slow, and then he wasn’t, and then when you came back they put the breathing tube down his throat, and his eyes were closed, and the doctors said he had a stroke and he might wake up, and his eyes just stayed closed . . . And then the machine just made this long beeping noise, and just like that he was
gone . . . And I don’t have a father anymore . . . And, you want a question, well, here you go: How are you fine one day and not the next? Why did he have to die? Where is the funny in that? How am I supposed to be myself again? What am I supposed to do now?

  Thought

  It doesn’t

  even feel real.

  Sometimes

  I find myself

  looking

  out my window

  watching for him

  to pull up

  after work.

  Sometimes I wear

  his too-big-for-me watch

  to school.

  I even packed

  some of my clothes

  in his suitcase

  ’cause it makes me feel

  like a part of him

  is still here.

  The worst

  are

  the moments

  I forget