SHENANIGANS
A novel by
by
SUMMER LEE
OTHER BOOKS BY SUMMER LEE
THE GLORIOUS COMPANIONS SERIES
Angel Heart
Kindred Spirits
Royal Family
Awaken the Passion
FOR YOUNG ADULTS
Shenanigans
Shenanigans
Published by Smashwords.com
Copyright © 2011 by Summer Lee
All rights reserved.
Smashwords.com Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Dedication
To my son, Jason.
Shenanigans
Chapter One
It was a dry, hot June afternoon in Southern California, and I was bored. Unlike some of my friends, I didn’t have a girlfriend to hang out with. At least not yet. I was planning on changing that someday soon. Either way, I was alone now, my chores were done, the house was empty, and I was bored senseless.
I dropped in front of the TV, flicked it on, scanned through the channels, and then turned it off in frustration. There was nothing worth watching. I drummed my fingers on the coffee table, which I had just polished. My fingertips mucked up the newly waxed surface. I didn’t care. It was just going to get mucked up again anyway, right?
I called my best friend, Alex Martinez, a kid I had known virtually all my life. Alex was always a little bigger and a little better than me at everything. And I was already pretty good, anyway. Which meant that Alex was always the star, and always got the girls. But Alex, to his credit, never rubbed it in or even seemed to acknowledge his superiority in just about everything. One of the reasons we were friends.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Nothing, I’m pretty bored,” I answered back.
“Me too. Let’s shoot some hoops at the school. I’ll help you with your crossover dribble.”
“It really needs work?”
“It’s like watching a dying seagull.”
“Not all of us have been blessed with freakish ability like yourself.”
“That’s why I want to give back. You know, to the little people.”
“Ha ha, very funny Alex. Don’t forget I was taller than you when we were in the fifth grade.”
“What happened?”
“Genetics, I guess.”
“My dad is five feet seven and my mom is five feet.”
“Well maybe Shaq is a distant cousin or something.”
“You want to play or not?”
“Yeah,” I said, grinning. “That would be fine.”
The club tryouts were soon and I wanted to start on my team. I was a good shooter, but Alex, of course, was much better and I needed him to trust me on the court. Because he would be the point guard and I need my touches.
“Meet me out front,” he said.
I stuffed my cell phone in my pocket and got my basketball out of the closet. I then went outside to wait for Alex. It wouldn’t take him long to get to my house. He only lived two blocks away.
As I dribbled the ball on the sidewalk, I thought about Alex and all the fun we had playing basketball together when we were young. We both always made the teams through grade school, and again last year in the seventh grade. Most games were played on outdoor courtyards.
We both went to an after school program at a local church called Integrity Boys Club. They played a lot of sports against clubs in other cities, especially basketball. Now we were getting ready for a winter league.
The Integrity Club was planning a basketball camp for this summer, to further develop our skills. Alex and I both planned to go. That would be cool. I hoped to get more of the fundamentals down so that I could play more competitively in the eighth grade at school. Our parents thought alike and said it would be a good experience for us. As my mom says, “An after school sport would keep you boys busy.”
Only one person could interfere with my having a great life at Buena Vista Junior High. That was public enemy number one, Chopper Cruz. I knew that Chopper had been after me ever since I took him on last year. I stuck up for my little buddy, Tim Ho, when Chopper punched him. I attempted to kick Chopper’s butt for that.
But that wasn’t the only time I tried to teach him a lesson. I bloodied his nose last spring when he was pushing some girls around. When they called out for help, I had to defend them.
Word was out that he now planned to smash my face in. He was a bully who picked on small boys and helpless girls. I was tired of fighting with him, but if he started something, I’d finish it. I hadn’t decided yet what I’d do to him. I couldn’t let him get away with that kind of talk. I had a reputation to defend, after all.
Respect was big in our junior high. You respected a person stronger than you. I had a feeling that before the year was over I was going to face off with Chopper. One of us would then learn the meaning of the word respect. I preferred it to be him, rather than me.
I lifted weights to build up my biceps, but at gut level I knew I was not yet as strong as Chopper. He was six inches taller than me, and outweighed me by forty pounds. But I was determined to never tell a soul that I was scared; instead, I decided to work hard at getting stronger.
My cell phone rang. It was Alex again. “How about going to the Buena Park Mall instead?”
“Why?”
“My mom just got home and said she’d drive us.”
“What’s to do there?”
“We’ll eat, maybe find some girls. Wanna go?”
“Sure. Why not?” I tossed the ball into the garage.
A few minutes later, I saw Alex’s mom’s little blue car come around the corner for me.
* * *
Once in the mall, we headed for the food court. Going around the corner we ran smack dab into three girls.
“Hey Alex,” said a cute freckled one, immediately hugging him. Tightly. “What are you doing here?”
“Nothing much,” said my friend, always Mr. Cool. “Just getting something to eat.”
Her friends giggled as if that had been funny, and then they stood smiling at each other for awhile. Finally, the freckled girl asked, “Want to hang out with us?”
Alex looked questioningly at me. I nodded. The girls were cute.
“Sure,” he said. “Why not?”
We headed out through the mall. I walked on one side of Alex, while the freckled girl walked on the other. Her two friends trailed behind, exchanging goofy looks. I had never seen any of them before.
“So how do you two know each other?” I asked.
“We met at the beach a couple of weeks ago,” Alex said.
“So then introduce me,” I said.
Alex rolled his eyes. “Lilly,” he said dramatically, “meet my pushy friend, Brett Buyer.”
“Hi,” she said, smiling brightly.
I said hi and asked, “So where’re you from?”
“Huntington Beach,” she said. “I go to a small private school there called Hope. Actually, all three of us go there.”
I looked back at the other two girls. I didn’t have a girlfriend but was hoping to find one before fall and the eighth grade. Most of the cute girls at Buena Vista Junior High were already taken. Maybe I could get one from the private school.
Twenty minutes later, we had worked our way, inevitably to the downstairs food court, which was painted brightly in shades of green, yellow and orange.
“So how did you meet?” I asked, as we strolled in front of the rows of restaurants. I was often curious how boys and girls my age met. I was always looking for some universal rule of thumb that I could apply in my own life.
“We were both surfing,” said Lilly. “Alex cut me off. I cussed him out, and he came back to apologize.”
I turned to Alex.
“Since when do you surf?” I asked, surprised. We were friends and I didn’t know he surfed.
“I’m learning,” he said, smiling at Lilly. “I rent a board at the beach. But, you know, it’s hard getting down there. We don’t exactly live by the beach.”
In fact, we didn’t. Although we lived in Orange County, which was famous for its beaches, we lived about twenty-five miles inland. And, until we got licenses and cars, we were at the mercy of buses and parents.
“All the guys in my school surf,” Lilly announced proudly.
“The cool guys,” chimed the other two girls, nearly in unison, which produced more giggling.
I was getting the impression that Lilly and her friends thought the guys at her school were a little bit better than us, and that bugged me. We had surfers at our school, too. And there were other ways to being cool, right? Surfing wasn’t the only way. Did grownups worry about who was cool and who wasn’t?
“What kind of food should we order?” Alex asked the group.
“I prefer Mexican,” Lilly said. “Let’s get a platter of nachos.”
The other girls agreed that was a good choice. I said fine, although I was eyeballing the corn dogs over at Hot Dog On A Stick. What boys will do for girls.
Alex ordered a huge plate of nachos with cheese and jalapenos. He put the whole messy concoction in the middle of the table for all to share. Drinks in hand, we sat around the nachos. Lilly introduced the other two girls as Brenda Marcelli and Sandy Smith. I said hi. Brenda had dark hair and Sandy was blond, and both were petite and dang cute.
I might have been staring a little too long, because Sandy suddenly looked away, turning red. Embarrassed, I quickly looked up, and in doing so, saw our friend, Mark Martin, walking toward us.
He slapped me hard on the back, showing off a little for the girls.
“What are you guys doing here?” he asked.
“Just hanging out,” said Alex.
Have a seat,” I said, nearly rubbing where he had slapped me, but deciding that wouldn’t be very cool.
Mark plunked down next to the girls, grinning broadly and introducing himself. Afterward, when all the hellos were said, it got awkward having three girls and three guys together, most of us strangers, and most of us awkward. That is, everyone but Alex, who smiled easily and seemed about as comfortable as could be.
With six people sitting at one table, I ended up squished between Mark and Brenda. Sitting close to a girl was nice. More than nice. I love the way girls smell, and Brenda was no different, a touch of perfume and shampoo and something else. Something almost magical. I smiled at her and she smiled back. We could be friends.
The three girls were really quite pretty. Alex knew how to pick them, that’s for sure. Sandy wore a pink blouse that looked good with her reddish-blond hair, and Lilly was kind of cute in her blue jeans and red plaid shirt, but I didn’t think either girl was half as pretty as Brenda Marcelli in her purple shirt.
We sat and talked about the beach and surfing. Lilly did most of the talking. The rest of us just listened.
Brenda leaned over and whispered something to Lilly, who then whispered in Alex’s ear. I had a feeling they were talking about me, so I ducked my head. My face felt hot. I rearranged the napkins. Alex turned to me and said, “Let’s go wash our hands.”
Chapter Two
Once inside the restroom, I asked, “What’s going on?”
“The brunette likes you, man,” he said, grinning broadly.
“Really?” My heart slammed against my ribs. I wasn’t exactly sure what to do with this information. “Was that what Lilly said?”
“Sort of. She also said she thinks you’d make a good surfer.”
“How’d she get an idea like that?”
“Probably because you’re blond and blue-eyed,” Alex said with a smirk.
“That doesn’t mean she likes me.”
“It practically does,” Alex said.
“She is hot,” I said.
Alex grinned. “Go for it, man,” he said.
“But she acts like she’s too good for us, or for me.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Alex. “You’re in. She likes you. Simple as that.”
“What’ll I talk about?” I asked. Panic surged through me. I didn’t want to screw this up, and it was so easy to screw things up with girls. They were so unpredictable! And I wanted a girlfriend. Bad.
“Tell her you like to surf. That’s all you need to do,” Alex said easily, as he pushed the door open.
“But I don’t.”
“Fake it.”
We returned to our table and this time I sat across from Brenda. She looked at me, smiled, and then watched a couple of kids playing near a huge indoor tree. My heart felt like it was pounding halfway up my chest. I think I was sweating. Girls always did that to me. My goal was to someday get over the sweats!
Alex looked at me, raised his eyebrows as if to say “Well?” I swallowed hard and I think he saw the panic look in my eye. He casually leaned over and whispered something into Lilly’s ear. She nodded knowingly, a cute smirk on her lips.
“Hey Brett,” she said, a moment later, trying to sound casual. “Do you surf?”
I shot a look at Alex, but he was busy with a dripping nacho.
“I...I plan on taking lessons,” I said, surprised to hear how easily the lie came out of my mouth. I didn’t often lie, especially to get girls.
“Where?”
“Um, at my school.”
“Really?” she asked, feigning interest. Still, the conversation had attracted Brenda, which, I suppose, was the whole purpose of it.
She had turned away from the kids and seemed to be sizing me up. “Where do you go to school?”
“Buena Vista Junior High.”
Now Sandy, the cute blond, spoke. Except when she spoke, she suddenly didn’t appear so cute. “I’ve never heard of a public school that teaches surfing.”
“One of the teachers there gives private surfing lessons after school.” This was true. Actually, I had always meant to look into this club.
Sandy was irritatingly persistent. Now she was curling her hair around her finger. “But isn’t Buena Vista about twenty miles from the beach? How will you get down there?”
“The teacher. He’ll drive us. He has an RV and takes everyone.”
Brenda reached out and touched my arm. “I think that’s pretty cool,” she said shyly, and I think I was in love, right then and there.
I looked down, suddenly embarrassed. “Thank you,” I said.
“But not everybody who lives at the beach surfs,” she said. “My younger sister hates the water, for instance.”
“Actually, I hate the sand,” I said.
She grinned. “Me, too! It’s always getting in places it doesn’t belong!”
She asked, “What is your favorite sport?”
“Basketball,” I said, suddenly feeling shy. “Our church is sponsoring a summer camp so we can strengthen our skills.”
Alex nudged me in the ribs. I looked over at him, expecting him to be grinning at me proudly. Instead, he had a fairly serious look on his handsome face. He casually thrust his chin forward, pointing.
I turned and looked.
There, coming towards us, flanked by two of his friends, was the massive Chopper Cruz.
Chapter Three
It didn’t take him long to spot me.
As soon as he did, he slapped one of his henchmen and pointed at us. He grinned and the three of them sauntered over. Chopper was easily twice as big as his two friends, who happened to be twin brothers. Which meant they were equally ugly. Well, at least to me. Tall and gangly with humped noses, they were poster children for why first cousins shouldn’t be allowed to marry. At least, that was the running joke between me and my friends. Yes, kids can be cruel.
“A nerd convention,” said Chopper, and the twins chortled, their nostrils flaring under their hawk-like noses.
I ignored him and looked calmly at Brenda. For whatever reason, I never let Chopper get to me. Nine times out of ten, he would pound me into the ground, and yet I always felt confident that good luck would be on my side.
“Brenda, the big guy behind you—” She had already turned to look the moment Chopper had opened his flabby mouth— “is named Chopper. We’re not entirely sure why he goes around calling himself Chopper, but we suspect it’s because he farts like a Harley.”
Chopper’s flabby cheeks reddened. Alex, who had never once showed fear of Chopper, burst out laughing. So did Mark, but Mark was more subdued, as the massive looming presence of Chopper above him was enough to quickly stifle his laughs.
“Say that to my face,” he said.
“I think I just did.”
Chopper made a move to step around the table. The girls squealed and huddled together like frightened ducklings. In one fluid motion, just as I was about to stand, Alex was already out of his seat and between Chopper and me.
“I wouldn’t do that if I was you, Chopper.”
“I have no problem with you, Alex.”
And, for perhaps the first time, I saw a glimmer of fear as Chopper flicked his gaze to my best friend. The twins were standing just behind their leader, their fists rolled up into knobby balls.
“This isn’t the time or place,” said Alex, who stood perhaps an inch shorter than Chopper. Alex’s shoulders were easily wider. I could see my friend’s muscles flexing under his tee shirt. Yeah, he was that tough.
“Fine,” said Chopper, stepping back. So did the twins, unclenching their fists. “Then I look forward to when it is the time and place.”
“Whatever,” said Alex, turning his back on Chopper and sliding smooth as a cat into his seat.
When Chopper and his look-alike cohorts were gone, Brenda turned to me and said, “What a jerk.”
“Tell me about it.”
“What was that all about?” asked Lilly.
Alex grinned easily. “You could say Chopper and my pal Brett here have some bad blood. You see, Brett popped Chopper in the nose a few months back for picking on some girls, and Chopper’s looking for some payback.”
Brenda looked from Alex to me, wonder in her eyes. “You punched that...that thing?”
I shrugged.
“I don’t believe it,” said Lilly.
Alex nodded. “Saw it myself. You believe me, don’t you?” he asked.
She sighed dramatically. “I suppose.”
Brenda was still staring at me. A small smile touched her lips but she said nothing. A warm shiver passed through me. Alex had been mostly right. Chopper had been picking on some girl. I had indeed pushed him. But it hadn’t been much of a punch. It mostly grazed his cheek. After all, I had to reach up so high...Still, it had been enough to thoroughly irritate and embarrass the bully. I wouldn’t hear the end of it. Not until we had it out. It was inevitable. Like high noon in Western movies.
We finished the nachos. Alex, always the leader, stood to leave. I quickly took a last gulp of my Coke and tossed the cup in the trash.
“Let’s hit the arcades,” Alex said, and he led the way.
Lilly yanked on his shirt, stopping him.
“I’d rather not,” she said. “I’m not very good at arcade games.”
“Yuck, me neither,” Sandy agreed. “Hey, let’s go shopping!”
She and Brenda giggled and Mark and I rolled our eyes. What is it with girls and shopping?
Alex turned and said to Mark and me, “You mind if we walk around with the girls for awhile?” We both shrugged, but I could tell it wasn’t really a question. We were going whether we wanted to or not. I was realizing just how much Alex liked this cute girl from the beach.
“Good,” he added. “And if there’s not enough time we can go to the arcades next time.”
We left the food court and strolled out onto the mall. As I walked next to Brenda, I could smell her sweet perfume, and once again I had the same peculiar feeling that I had earlier. It felt great.
Slowly we walked past the stores that sold shoes, tobacco, cookies, and clothes. The girls literally stopped inside every clothing store. I hadn’t realized that Buena Vista Mall, a mall I had been going to all my life, had so many dress shops.
While in a shoe store, as the girls tried on various glittering high heels, Alex casually asked if Brenda and I would like to come with him and Lilly next Saturday in the movies. Alex was the man. Real smooth. Have I mentioned that Alex was my friend?
I immediately looked at Brenda, who was lacing up a sort of high heel/sandal thingy, and she smiled and nodded.
“Sounds fun,” she said.
“I agree, it sounds like a blast,” I said lamely, but then grimaced.
“What’s wrong?” asked Alex.
“We have basketball camp this week.”
“I know, but we’re coming back on Friday night.”
Alex winked at me and turned to Mark. “You and Sandy can come too, you know.”
“We don’t even know each other,” said Sandy, in a sort of snotty way, I thought. I already could tell there was no chemistry between those two. Mark saved face by saying that he had something to do with his family that day.
Someone’s phone started ringing. It was coming from Brenda’s big blue purse. She suddenly gasped and looked at her watch.
“That’s my mom. We’re supposed to be outside.”
She plucked her phone out of her bag, flipped it open, apologized a few times, and then snapped it shut.
“We gotta go,” she said.
But before she left, she gave me her cell number. In fact, she plugged it in my cell phone for me. As she did so, she stood very close. Intoxicatingly close. Brenda smelt amazing. It was the most intoxicating smell I had ever inhaled.
Her mom came and Brenda gave me a real quick hug. It completely caught me off guard. I hugged her back a little bit, but the hug ended as quickly as it started. And then they were gone. Poof, just like that. I already missed her.
Chapter Four
Early the next morning—almost too early—Alex and I found ourselves sleepily sharing a bench seat in the Integrity Club minivan as we headed north to basketball camp. Along the way, we picked up our other friend Mark and a boy named Gordon.
The Integrity Clubs sponsored a yearly camp for its members which featured lectures in the mornings, and sporting events in the afternoons. This year it would be basketball, and Alex and I both loved basketball. I considered myself a pretty good shooting guard, but Alex was the best point guard I’d ever seen. He also would play forward and I would move to point just to throw off teams when we played them. I had been working on defensive footwork and positioning since fourth grade, and hoped, after basketball camp, to master the moves. Although tired, I was enthusiastic about camp.
Hey, what was better than spending days on end playing basketball? Well, maybe spending days on end with Brenda.
I sighed and relaxed and watched the shopping malls and homes fly by outside. Occasionally, Alex and I chatted about girls and sports. The usual stuff.
After a couple of hours we were in the country and the only visible buildings were an occasional farm house or barn. We pulled into a service station for gas, and Bill Thompson, our driver and the Integrity Club leader and camp counselor, told everybody to get out and stretch their legs. Although he was a small man, he was built like a bowling ball and powerfully strong. When he was around there was no doubt that he was the boss.
“Take care of all your personal needs now,” Bill said. That was a euphemism for going to the bathroom.
We all did the deed, and soon we were all back on the road, sipping Cokes and Pepsi's and eating various Hostess snacks.
Although I wouldn’t see Chopper all week, I found myself worrying about him. I had deliberately avoided Chopper all summer, which I was sure made him angry. It seemed that he told almost everyone the terrible things that he planned to do to my face. He said he was going to get me—and get me good. So I was pretty sure there was going to be a fight in my immediate future.
I wasn’t scared of Chopper; well, not really. I had been beaten up before. It’s not the end of the world, but it sure isn’t fun.
Anyway, I was looking forward to spending a week with Alex and Mark because the three of us had always been close. We were always together growing up, sort of like the Three Musketeers, minus the swords and the French accents.
The three of us had been inseparable—that is, until Gordon Grey moved in next door to Mark. Now the new kid from New York and Mark were the best of friends.
Was I jealous?
No way.
Okay, maybe a little.
Anyway, the four of us formed the core of our youth group’s basketball team. By youth group, I mean, our church basketball team. Yes, basketball camp was really a church basketball camp. Hey, don’t laugh. Some of these churches sported amazing athletes and the games could get pretty competitive.
Mark and Gordon were sitting behind us. Sometimes I would hear them whispering, followed by loud peals of laughter. Their laughter seriously worked my nerves. I mean, why did they have to whisper like that? Were they talking about Alex or me?
Anyway, I always found Gordon difficult to relate to. He was always a little too quick-tempered for me, too determined to have his own way. Oddly, he and Mark seemed quite compatible. Gordon liked to talk, and Mark was a good listener. That made for a good friendship.
Once the van had picked up speed on the two-lane highway, speeding past crooked trees and dry bushes, Alex and I played a game of hangman. While we played, we rolled down our windows because it was like a sweat box in the van. Bill refused to put the air conditioner on. He said it would be a waste of money. I told him that I thought air conditioning was free, at least in cars. He grumbled something incomprehensible. So we were left sweating in the back, downing our colas as the wind whipped through our hair.
At one point I fell asleep and when I awakened I called out to Bill and asked what time he thought we’d get to the campground.
“Midnight,” he answered.
Three more hours! I leaned back in my seat and stretched my legs out into the isle. I pulled my baseball cap over my eyes and tried to sleep again, but it was useless. I was too excited about camp. I was too excited about Brenda. And I was too nervous about Chopper.
Alex nudged me in the ribs.
“Let’s sing ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall.”
“Bill won’t like that.”
“That’s exactly why we should do it.”
So we did, but nobody else joined in. Alex and I eventually stopped at around sixty-eight bottles of beer on the wall. So who put all those bottles on the wall in the first place? And why? Was he a collector?
So Alex and I huddled up together, and passed the time by talking about some of the kids we knew back in elementary school. Alex and I had known each other since we were four. The first time I ever saw him he was riding his tricycle across the street from my house, and I asked my mom if I could cross over to play with him. We became instant best friends. We joined the Integrity Club together in the sixth grade.
After an hour or so of this, Bill spoke from the driver’s seat, “Why don’t you guys get some rest now. The others are trying to sleep.”
By others, he meant Mark and Gordon. Even though I had been excited to hang out with Mark, I was beginning to resent his and Gordon’s exclusivity. I could care less if we kept them up.
“I’m too excited to sleep,” said Alex.
“You need your rest,” Bill said. “I understand there will be a few girls on some of the basketball teams out here.”
“Amazon girls aren’t my type,” said Alex, snickering. Soon we were both laughing, which drew a firm frown from Bill.
Eventually, Alex and I got hold of ourselves and quieted down. As my head lolled against the headrest, and I looked out into the dark night, I thought of Brenda. My last coherent thought before I slipped into sleep was that I would email her from camp.
And then I was out cold until we arrived at the campground.
Chapter Five
It had been dark for hours when we turned off the main highway onto the narrow road that took us up to Tall Pines Campground. Once there, we parked inside a ring of stones along with many other church minivans. Heck, it looked like a minivan convention.
Once we got out and stretched, I could see more stars in the night sky than I think I had ever seen in my life. Pine trees were everywhere, and the air smelled fresh and clean, just like a can of Pine-Sol. Hundreds of crickets were chirping, accompanied by the occasional bullfrog. We were definitely not in Orange County anymore.
The fragrant mountain air was also chilly, and so I slipped on my jacket. Bill told us to wait at the van while he walked up the gravely path toward what I knew was the camp office.
While he was gone, we unloaded the van, piling our stuff on the ground of loose dirt. The four of us were mostly still asleep. I wanted to crawl over the pile of suitcases and close my eyes. But Bill returned a few minutes later with a key.
“Our group is in cabin number two,” he informed us.
Cabin number two sat at the end of a well-lit path strewn with white rocks that cut through the woods. Bill unlocked the heavy front door of the squat building that sat in front of us like a dark fat toad, although that might have been my imagination playing tricks on me. Immediately, we were greeted with a musty scent of old furniture, old wooden floors and walls and, I would discover with a bit of a fright as soon as we turned on a light, the massive head of an antlered deer.
We boys explored the cabin briefly, examined the head of the poor creature which was watching us with black, glassy eyes, and then we picked out our beds. There were two bunk beds and one cot. Bill took the cot. Alex and I decided to share the same bunk, leaving Mark and Gordon to the other.
“I get the top bunk,” Alex said, a fraction of a second before I could open my mouth to claim it. He was always doing that—just managing to beat me at everything. Sigh. The beds were bare, and so we all unrolled our sleeping bags and tossed them across the thin mattresses. I had brought a pillow. Alex just rolled up his jeans, tucking them under his head.
“Get some sleep,” said Bill, pulling his sleeping bag nearly over his entire head. I think he was exhausted from all the driving.
Sleep we did. Alex moved around a little above me, shifting until he was comfortable as the bed springs creaked. Mark and Gordon whispered and laughed for a few minutes over in their bunk bed, but soon enough their light snoring filled the musky air.
Even with my best friend sleeping above me, I suddenly felt alone. Was I already missing my family? I haven’t really talked about them, because I rarely see them. My mother works hard at the church all day, and my father is a school teacher, often working long hours in the classroom, grading assignments and getting his room just right. He is a neat freak. My house is mostly empty, especially in the summers. Empty or not, I think I was missing it.
Outside, I think an owl hooted. Something scurried just outside the window next to me. Crickets chirped everywhere. It certainly was peaceful out here. At least Chopper was far away.
Unfortunately, so was Brenda.
The next thing I knew was that Bill was shaking me and telling me to clean up for breakfast.
“But it’s not morning,” I protested, and crawled deeper inside my sleeping bag, burying my head under my pillow. I mean, it was still dark outside!
Suddenly, my head thumped the bed board. Hard. Dazed, I looked around and saw Alex at the foot of my bed. He was laughing, holding one end of my sleeping bag high in the air. I threw my pillow at him and got up.
I was not a happy camper. Or a morning person, for that matter.
The camp was laid out fairly simply: nine cabins placed randomly throughout a forested area, although they all roughly centered around the main gymnasium, which also doubled as chapel and dining hall. Each cabin would house four to five different church basketball teams.
At the moment, the main gymnasium was doubling as a breakfast hall. The four of us, including Bill, ate ravenously. The camp cook outdid himself, piling our breakfast plates with great heaps of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages and pancakes. By the time I was finished, my stomach was round and full and I wanted to sleep again.
Instead, to walk it off, Alex and I went on a hike in the woods. We followed a well-used trail, and then took off on what would clearly be classified as an unused trail. It was, in fact, just a tiny little dirt track that wound along a small stream. As we walked, we talked and skipped rocks in the stream and wondered when lunch would be.
My personal best for rock skipping that morning was seven skips. Alex’s best? Nine skips.
Sigh. Typical.
When we came back, Bill told us not to run off anymore. “The camp next to ours is for kids from juvenile hall. You don’t know why they are in there or what they might do to you,” he admonished.
I wasn’t worried about kids from juvenile hall. Alex and I were about as tough as it got for kids our age, although someone like Chopper was certainly much bigger, and no doubt much stronger. Still, delinquent kids didn’t worry me, but he made us promise to not run off and we reluctantly agreed.
Since it was Sunday and this was a church-sponsored camp, we had to attend service. But it’s not like church back home. The music here is up-tempo, fast-paced, and the message from the speaker was aimed for teens. Something about trusting God and living with honor and pride, but not too much pride.
Me? Prideful? Never.
Now let’s go kick some camp butt.
Chapter Six
Monday morning I awoke excited, as we were to begin our daily basketball routine. After another huge breakfast of scrambled eggs and something called grits, Bill sat the four of us down outside the dining hall. It was a perfect day. Cool and crisp with the sun shining. A good day to practice basketball.
“We have some amazing basketball coaches here, ex-college players and even an ex-European professional,” said Bill. His round face was slightly flushed. He always turned red when he was excited.
“These guys know their stuff and they’re going to teach everything from ball handling to shooting techniques, from offensive and defensive footwork, to positioning. Right after practice today, we are going to play our first game in the tournament.”
Excited, we practiced hard all afternoon. The coaches were tough but knowledgeable, and very skilled. My mouth dropped in awe on more than one occasion, watching the ex-Italian pro player dribble between his legs and around his back in mind-bending ways.
After practice, we had our first game. Another boy from our church, a small kid named Joshua, completed our team of five players. I had only spoken to him a few times, but he was always smiling and he played hard. He was a good fit.
We played a small group of guys from a church in San Jose. Although none of them were very tall, they were surprisingly good, and quick. We underestimated them, and they nearly beat us. Afterward, we all vowed to play hard each and every game, and to not ever let up.
I was, as usual, a sweating mess after the game. And since dinner was in thirty minutes, we all hurried back to our cabins (high-fiving each other along the way) and took turns taking showers. By the time it was my turn, the water was nearly cold. Sigh. Dressed and feeling good about our win, the four of us, including Bill, headed over to the cafeteria.
On the way there, I ended up walking next to a tall, red-headed kid from Bakersfield.
“You guys won today, didn’t you?” I asked him.
“Of course.” He sounded a little cocky. Maybe he hadn’t been paying attention to yesterday’s sermon. “How about you?” he asked.
“We won, too,” I said. “Maybe we’ll play each other this week.”
He slapped my back hard, and laughed. “I hope so,” he said, and dashed off to join his friends.
After we ate, we went swimming and then horseback riding.
Yeah, life can be tough sometimes.
* * *
Tuesday and Wednesday were action-filled days.
Basketball practice was fun, and the games intense. Luckily, we were playing better and better as a team, and so we won the next two games. That was three in all. People were beginning to watch our games, and that always felt good. Each night, after more swimming and horseback riding, we went to bed exhausted. So far, it was the greatest week ever.
And when Thursday afternoon finally rolled around, only two teams were left undefeated: our team and the team from Bakersfield led by that cocky, tall, red-headed kid.
Before the big game, Bill pulled the five of us aside in our cabin before we headed out. “I have something exciting to tell you guys,” he said. “The winner today automatically competes in a nationwide Integrity Club basketball tournament this fall. The finals will be held New York.”
My mouth dropped. I looked at Alex and he looked at me. His eyes were as wide as mine. Then we all slapped hands.
Bill continued, “I think you guys are good enough to beat any church team—but remember, one game at a time, okay? First you have to beat Bakersfield, and, if you haven’t noticed, they’re pretty darn good.” He looked us all in the eye, and then a wide smile cracked his face. “But you guys are even better.”
We cheered again.
And as we headed over to the court from our cabin, I looked over at Alex. He had his game-face on. When he looked like that—grim and determined—well, that meant trouble for the other team.
Big trouble.
“I want to go to New York,” said Alex when he caught me looking at him. “The tall red-headed kid is mine.”
Chapter Seven
Okay, that was a lot of build up for nothing.
What I mean is this: We killed them. And that tall, red-headed kid was practically reduced to tears. Alex personally dominated him—and the entire team for that matter. We beat them 36-14. Or, rather, Alex beat them. He personally scored 28 of those 36 points.
I felt kind of bad for the other team—even the red headed kid—all of whom had been thoroughly demoralized. And when our team was standing on stage that night being awarded the first place trophy—with Alex being awarded the MVP of the tournament—I found myself staring at my best friend in awe.
Alex caught me looking at him again. He shrugged and whispered to me, “Hey, I want to go to New York.”
I had a feeling he really wanted to go to New York.
I was sad when I awoke the next morning, Friday, and realized that we would be going home in a few hours. Time had gone by too quickly for me. I lay in bed and thought about all the fun I had had this week. Mornings had been filled with chapel and basketball practice, afternoons with tournament games, and evenings we went horseback riding and swimming at night. Busy, busy. I didn’t even have time to write Brenda. Anyway, I felt confident that I had learned some valuable basketball techniques as well as some strong lessons on morality. With a heavy heart, I dressed and went to the final breakfast.
I ate far too much food, joked with the other boys, watched as a steady stream of players—both teenage and adult, congratulated Alex. Alex only nodded and went back to his food. Being good at sports—and getting congratulations—was part of his everyday life. Must be nice!
Afterward, many of us exchanged phone numbers and email addresses, then I boarded the van to return to Southern California. I always hated leaving camp. Camp was a happy place, one of the few incredibly happy places that I knew. I also knew that camp wasn’t the real world. Well, maybe I didn’t always want to live in the real world.
Anyway, I slept most of the way home and actually dreamed about Brenda. Yeah, a nice dream. In it, the two of us were on the beach together and I had my arms around her waist and we were cuddling close together. The sun was setting and she looked so beautiful, and I leaned my face toward her...
The van suddenly jolted. I bounced in my seat, awakened. And when I realized I was no longer on the beach with Brenda in my arms, I could have cried. In fact, I think I whimpered a little.
“Good dream?” asked Alex next to me.
I wondered if I had talked in my sleep. Geez, how embarrassing! I mumbled something to him and closed my eyes and tried my best to head straight back to the beach.
No luck.
Instead, I found myself in a dream that wasn’t of any consequence with Brenda nowhere to be found. Although, oddly, I would sometimes hear Alex chuckling in the background...
* * *
My house is a typical single-story suburban home. Very utilitarian with little frills. I didn’t need frills. All I needed was a place to sleep, eat and watch TV.
My father was a school teacher, and a strict one at that. Unfortunately, he was just as strict at home. Heck, sometimes at home I felt like I was in school.
Not a good feeling, trust me.
Anyway, when Bill pulled the van up in front of my house, my jaw dropped open. The entire house was covered in toilet paper. The other three guys looked at it and laughed. So did Bill.
I didn’t think it was so funny.
One word popped in my brain:
Chopper.
Chapter Eight
Because of the yard being toilet papered, I was put on restriction. For some reason, my father held me responsible for the mess in our front yard. My date with Brenda would have to be postponed. My hate for Chopper deepened, although I still wasn’t sure if he had been the one who had orchestrated the papering.
Either way, I had a very different sort of “date” with Chopper coming.
And I suspected it would be soon.
My dad helped me clean, which was nice. While we worked, we talked. I admitted that I was afraid to fight Chopper, but that I would never run from the challenge, either.
He looked at me long and hard and said simply, “Sometimes there’s a time to fight and sometimes there’s a time to run.”
“I’ll never run from Chopper,” I said. “No matter how scared I am.”
He nodded. “I’ll pray that you make the right decision.”
Once the cleaning was finished, I asked, “Now can I get some of the boys together to go down to Parks School for a game of Wall Ball?”
“Sure, you’ve earned it,” he said.