Booked (12 page)

Are you going back to school next week?

Yes.

Based on the evidence that's been presented, I rule in favor of the defendant. The date shall commence tomorrow.

WOOHOO!
Mom yells.

That's not fair, you say.

The judge has decided,
Mom counters.

Let's hug it out,
Dad says,

and the three of you do,

just like old times

and hopefully new ones, too.

Who beat y'all?

A team from Mexico. They were fast!

Bummer.

Your team got beat too.

I heard.

But it was cool. I met Pelé.

NO FREAKIN' WAY! REALLY?

Well, I saw him from, like, a distance, but yeah.

Cool!

So what's up with you?

Everything's great. My mom and dad are back together.

Really?

Really.

That's what's up.

Looks like you had a lot of fun in Dallas. I saw your pics.

Not as fun as it coulda been. Wasn't the same.

Same as what?

Same as if you were there. If you want, we can play FIFA after school.

Can't. I'm booked.

You're booked?

Yup. I got a date tomorrow.

A date? With who?

April Farrow.

Yeah, right. Where y'all going?

Riding horses.

Atta-boy!

gets out

of Mom's rental SUV

and walks over

to the stable,

only one word

can describe

the way she

moves

in those

blue jeans:

callipygous.
^*

Use the steel comb

like this, you say to April,

demonstrating how

to remove

the caked-on dirt.

Then take this soft brush

and rub over her, yep,

just like that, to wash away

the dust.

You're doing great, April.

You know a lot about horses,
Nick,
she says.

I guess.

You know a lot about everything. Is it true you skipped a grade?

Yeah, second.

You're so smart, Nicky.

. . .

Okay, check her feet

with a hoof pick, to clear out

the little rocks and stuff, you say.

Are you feeling better, Nick?

Yeah, pretty much.

Are you still gonna play soccer?

Uh, YEAH!

Well, that's good. 'Cause you're pretty good.

I know.

(We both laugh.)

Miss Quattlebaum told me

to tell you hi.

Maybe I'll be in class

on Monday,
Milady,
you say, not

looking up, and wishing

you hadn't said that.

Let's mount this pony,
she says.

Whoa, cowgirl, you tell her. We

still have to put the saddle on.

Oh, right. Sorry, Nick.

Let me do the saddle, it's kind of heavy.

Want me to help you, Nick?

I'm good.

But you're not, 'cause you stumble,

fall flat

on your
rumpelstiltskin.

Having trouble over there?
Mom hollers, laughing.

Now April's trying not to laugh. And failing.

Even the horse got jokes. He neighs.

Let me help you up, cowboy,
April says, grinning.

You okay?

I'm good.

You said that before,
Mom hollers. Still laughing.

You jump up, saddle the horse.

Yep, let me help you up.

Mom comes over with her horse.

I've got an idea, Nicky,
she says.
It's her first time, so

one of us needs to pull

April's horse around

until she gets the feel for it.

I thought you were going to do it, Mom?

Uh, no, Momma's gonna be riding.

Well, I can't do it.

I'm riding too.

I'll be fine, Mrs. Hall,
April says.

Mom shoots you a look.

Here's my idea,
she says.

How about for the first few times

around the field,

April rides with you.

Solves all our problems, right?

Sounds like a plan to me,
April says.

Blackjack.

PLEASE, MOM!

We just want to

go to the mall.

It's not that late.

Her parents said

she could go.

We're just gonna

walk around,

maybe see

a movie.

Her friend

Charlene can meet us

there too.

You can come also.

THANK YOU! THANK YOU!

By the way, would you mind

sitting a few rows in front of us,

like maybe, uh, twenty-one?

it each time

a zombie

lunges at a human

and chomps on flesh

because it makes April

grab the legs

next to hers,

one of which

is yours.

I had a great time with you

and your mom. Your parents rock!

You're so lucky.
Guess I am.

Mom and Dad stop whispering

when you get to the table.

Nicky,
I made your favorite,
she says.
Lobster

mac-and-cheese. Figured you needed

a break from the mustard.
We both kinda laugh.

And I even made cupcakes. Red velvet,
Dad adds.

By
made,
your father means he MADE

his way to the cupcakery and bought them.

We all laugh, and it feels

like love is back,

like home again,

just like it's supposed

to feel.

Nicky?

Yep, Mom?

I'm leaving on Thursday.

What do you mean?

I've got to get back to work, honey.

But you're coming back, right?

To visit.

Huh? I don't understand.

The Derby's coming up. It's my obligation to get Bite My Dust prepared. You understand, right, Nicky? They need me.

But I thought you quit, Mom.

Quit? Why would I—

I mean, it's just that me, you, and Dad have been . . . I mean, things are normal again.

Nicholas, your mother and I have decided to get a divorce.

A DIVORCE? But, I thought, uh, I just . . . I, we—

I was afraid of this,
Dad says to Mom.

Afraid of WHAT, that I would think you two would get your life together and not ruin mine again?

Your father and I love each other, and we always will, but sometimes life and work and love don't all mesh.

I don't even know what that means.

Nicholas, your mother and I are just, uh, uncompossible.

It's IN,
incompossible,
^*
not UN. Look it up, you say, and start getting up from the table.

We're sorry, honey.

Yeah, me too. Sorry some horse's needs are more important than mine.

Nicky, come back. Let's talk about this.

. . .

Does it sink

like a wrecked ship in the sea?

Or wade in the water

like a boy overboard?

Maybe it just floats

around and around . . .

or does it drown?

Mom tells you

how proud

she is

of the man

you're becoming

and makes you

promise to

call

or text her

every day,

eat healthier,

quit cutting

your nails

on the living room floor, and

keep your

grades up.

Maybe you and Coby want to come to the Derby,
she adds.

No thanks, we have soccer obligations, you answer.

In the car

on the way home

the engine battles

the hum of silence and

sadness

that envelops

you.

He finally says something . . . random.

Nicholas, the world is an infinite sea of endless possibility.

Yeah, well, it feels like there's a big freakin' hole in my ship, Dad.

Is Eminem your favorite rapper?

Huh?

The last time we spoke, you were quoting him.

He's not my favorite rapper, though.

Well, I'm more old school. Ever heard of the Fresh Prince?

The old TV show?

Yeah, but he's also a rapper.

Okay.

How did you decide to handle the bullying?

It's handled.

So it's not an issue?

I don't think so.

And what about your bike?

Uh, what about it?

Do you want it back?

Those hellkites
^*
are gone, so that's all I really wanted.

Nice word. Your mother mentioned you were exceptionally articulate.

Didn't really have a choice about that.

What do you mean?

My father forces me to read his dictionary. Has since I was nine.

What don't you like about it?

The part where I have to READ it.

Would you rather not be exceptionally articulate?

Maybe.

So you'd just prefer to be normal?

I guess.

Like everyone else?

Yep.

Even on the soccer field?

That's different.

How?

I like soccer.

And you don't like being smart?

I don't like being forced to
sound
smart.

. . .

. . .

Tell me, how do you feel about your mother leaving?

I feel like I'm drowning.

What will it take for you to get above water?

I don't know. It's outta my control. She's not coming back, and they're getting divorced.

Can you swim?

Uh, yeah!

So if you feel like you're drowning and you know how to swim, then maybe you can get above water.

That sounds crazy.

I guess it does.

. . .

How are things going in school?

School's okay, but I'm tired a lot.

Are you getting sleep at night?

I was. Probably not now.

Why not?

'Cause I'll be thinking about my mom.

How long has she been gone?

Three days, this time.

Have you spoken to her?

When she got to her, uh, new house, she called.

And since then.

Nope.

Maybe you should call or text her.

Yeah!

It's hard for her, and for you. And as hard as it is, regular communication is what gets things back to normal.

Normal? Yeah, right.

Change is hard, Nicholas, for all of us. We figure out how to cope, how to adapt, and eventually things do get back to normal.

Yeah!

. . .

. . .

Talking about things is good. It can help you stay above water.

Oh, really?

Yes.

. . .

So, I'll see you next week?

Tupac.

I'm sorry?

You asked who my favorite rapper was. It's Tupac.

Keep your head up, Nicholas.

Yeah.

Hey, Mom, I'm good, though my toe

nails have grown so long that my

hooves hurt bad. April says hi.

The girls line up

ear to ear

so you and the other boys

can greet them

with a proper hand kiss.

Gentlemen, backs are straight and stiff,
Miss Fruit Tree says.