Booked (10 page)

He never looks happy.

True. I was gonna come earlier, but my mom said you needed your rest.

What I need is some real food.

True.

Pernell's an idiot. I shoulda done something.

. . .

. . .

Sorry about that tackle. I was going for the ball.

Yeah, I know. I woulda scored. We woulda won.

I don't think so.

You got booked?

Yeah, ref threw me out.

Sorry about that.

How's the stomach?

It's feeling better. The food's disgusting.

That sucks.

Yeah . . . How'd you get here?

My dad.

Really?

Yeah, he's coming to the Dallas Cup.

. . .

Sorry you can't come, Nick.

Good luck.

I'll bring you something back.

Bring me a jersey or a ball.

I'll get my dad to buy us some swag. Definitely.

Coby, you miss him a lot?

Not really. We talk all the time, and I see him every summer.

Oh.

I know it's kinda hard right now, but you'll get used to it.

. . .

Hey, Man U is playing Arsenal. Let's watch.

Can't.

Huh?

Can't watch TV, uh, right now.

Mac

You can find me here—

I'm

imprisoned,

trapped

by a
verbomaniac

and locked

far

from fun,

from freedom.

Will you

PLEASE bust me out?

Save me from

this madhouse of

Boredom and

Weird Words.

Bring a decent book

ASAP.

PS. Please make it a thin book with a lot of white space on the page. Thanks!

In the middle of Scrabble

the nurse comes in

to take your

blood pressure

for the third time

today.

Out of nowhere

Mom starts crying

and apologizing

for breaking up

the family

to chase

her equine dreams.

Then Dad starts

telling her

it's not her fault

and now

he's sorry

for not paying

enough attention

to her

and respecting

her career.

And then they hug

for like fifteen minutes.

While you're figuring out

the math of it all:

(Two more days in the hospital.

Probably watch 8 to 10 hours of TV a day.

For a total of 1,000 to 1,200 minutes.

Which means you have to read

at least 200 pages.

ARGGH!)

Guess who strolls in?

Ms. Hardwick?

This isn't a pigment of your imagination?

A malapropism, I remember.

Very good. How are you feeling?

I'm cured, I guess, but I can't play soccer.

I'm sorry to hear that.
I didn't have appendicitis, but I had kidney stones. It's worse. Not fun. Not fun at all.

. . .

We miss you in class.

Who is
we
?

Since you're gonna be out for a few weeks, I thought I'd bring an assignment.

. . . (Yay me!)

Mr. MacDonald said you asked for a book, and it just so happens, we recently started a new one.

The Mac is a traitor, you think.

He couldn't make it today, but he will stop by tomorrow,
she says, handing you a book called
All the Broken Pieces. I think you may find a good read here, Nicholas.

Thank you, Ms. Hardwick. I'm taking a lot of antibiotic medication, you know, so I fall asleep a lot, so I'm not sure how long it will take me to read this, you say, yawning loud so she can hear you.

Always the comedian. Nicholas, I brought someone to see you. Are you up to another visitor, or are you too sleepy?
she says, with a smirk.

You glance out of the window, wondering who it is. It's probably Mr. Mac, trying to make an entrance. Sure, you answer.

Well, then, you have a grand day, and a speedy recovery. I miss my wordsmith,
she says, winking.

You open the book, notice the number of pages, 240. Well, that's promising, you think, as your next guest saunters into the hospital room.

Hey, Nick.

Got. To. Be. A.
Sweven.

There is no way this is happening.

You must be daydreaming again.

No freakin' way.

Hi, Nick.

Uh, hi, I'm, um, April, sorry, I'm just a little stup-id. I mean—

(And, of course, you mean
stupefied,
^*
but you're too stupefied to actually say it.)

Sorry about your appendix. The whole class signed this.

She hands you a get-well card signed by everybody.

I'm sorry you can't play soccer. That must make you feel pretty, uh, irascent.

You shoot her a look of surprise.

What?! It means angry.

I know what it means.

I've been reading your dad's dictionary,
she says, smiling.

Where'd you get that?

Mr. Mac showed it to us at book club. A lot of cool words.
Wow! That's, uh, interesting. I wouldn't say it's
cool,
though.

What letter are you on?

X
.

Wow, almost finished.

I've been reading it for, like, three years.

Whoa! Tell me an X word.

Xu
.

Sounds like a
Z
.

Yeah, most of the
X
words are pronounced like that.

What does it mean?

It's the money they used in Vietnam, before the war.

Like a dollar, only a xu,
she says, and you stare at her lips way too long.

Exactly.

Well, I see Ms. Hardwick gave you the
Broken Pieces
book. It's really good.

You read it?

Yep, and, get this: the boy in the book is really good at baseball, and he's from Vietnam. You'll like it, trust me.

(Did she just say
get this
?)

Okay, well, I gotta go. Text me, let me know what you think of the book.

Uh, okay.

Bye, Nick. Get well soon, 'cause you and I have some dancing to do,
and she kisses you goodbye on the forehead more like a grandmother would, but that's not going to stop you from never washing your head. Ever.

but you give the book a chance

for obvious reasons, plus

you need to earn some minutes.

is about war

but told

by a boy

your age

who can't seem

to find peace

after a bomb

blows

his village

and his brother

to pieces.

Then a soldier

takes him

to America

where he's adopted and

just about to find out

if he's made

the baseball team

on page 54

which means

you have amassed

four hours

and thirty minutes

of nonstop

TV.

Click.

After a night

of channel surfing

and back-to-back

reruns

of
Star Trek,

the morning sun

rushes in

courtesy of the nurse

raising the blinds.

You eat gooey

fruit cocktail

and just before

you power up

your tablet,

The Mac

strolls in

with his bowling bag,

and duffel,

sporting a blue and white hoodie

that reads

putyour
FACE
ina
BOOK.

I brought you a gift,
he says, handing

you a box wrapped in gift paper.

The dragonfly box?

Well, it is a box,
he says,

plopping himself down

in the chair.

Thanks, Mr. Mac, you say, opening

the greasy, white cardboard box.

Mr. Mac, this is
KFC!

Yep, sure is. Bought you

a three-piece

chicken meal and a biscuit,
he says.

Uh, thanks, but I can't really eat

that kind of stuff yet, Mr. Mac.

Good, 'cause there's only

one piece left. Give it here.

I don't know if I'm more hungry

or tired, Nick.

. . .

I just walked from the bowling alley.

And, it was a terrible walk, 'cause I lost.

Why didn't you drive?

Lucky finally died. Had it for thirteen years.

Guess your luck ran out, Mr. Mac.

If I wasn't so tired, I'd laugh at that.

Did you get the book?

Yep, I'm reading it.

What page are you on?

Fifty-four.

Nice! Any thoughts?

Yeah, it's all poetry.

And?

It's okay.

So why're you reading it, if it's just okay?

. . .

You're reading it because April Farrow

told you to read it,
he says, and

laughs so loud,

the person in the room

behind you bangs on the wall.

So what do you think

of the main character, Matt Pin?

I kinda feel bad for him,

getting picked on—I can relate.

Getting picked on by whom?
The Mac interrupts.

His classmates.

They call him names

like
Frogface

and
Matt-the-Rat
and

Rice-Paddy
and—

Odd names to call someone, dontcha think, Nick?

He's from Vietnam,

so the kids treat him different.

They're prejudiced, I guess.

Can't wait to find out what he does,

'cause right now he just does nothing.

What would you do, Nick?

I'd probably stand up for myself.

And then The Mac stops talking and

drifts off, staring out your window

and you're left

wide awake, thinking of

all your broken pieces.

When he wakes up

ten minutes later

The Mac

whips out

his copy,

plops down

in the vinyl chair

at the foot

of your bed,

kicks off

his white high-tops,

props both legs up,

yawns louder

than an elephant seal,

stretches,

then proceeds

to read

to you

like you're in kindergarten

and it's story time.

like he's on the mike,

rapping.

His flow is sick.

He pops his shoulders.

Bobs his head.

All while reading.

You listen.

You laugh.

You follow along.

Didn't think

you were gonna

like this

book.

Two hours later,

when The Mac lands

on the final page,

the doctors and nurses

who've lingered

and listened, and who

crowd your room,

give The Mac

a standing ovation.

Hey April,

I finished

the book.

The beginning

was a little slow

but the ending was

tight.

The poems

were cool.

The best ones were

like bombs,

and when all the right words

came together

it was like an explosion.

So good, I