Ben was big time into comic books, and Mac Kenzie’s was the only place in town that sold them.
Billy told him he and Lenny would meet him over there as soon as they’d finished, but that Ben shouldn’t go anywhere else without them.
“I’m basically in charge of not losing you,” Billy said to his brother.
“Don’t worry,” Ben said on his way out the door, “I won’t be like your socks. Or your sneakers. Or—”
“Go check out the new Aquaman and be quiet,” Billy said to him.
While they finished their ice cream, Billy and Lenny talked about every bad thing they were going to do to the Hornets next Saturday. Then they went to find Ben.
Which wasn’t hard.
Billy saw him up the sidewalk in front of Mac Kenzie’s, with Zeke Mills.
Saw Zeke laughing as he shoved Ben to the ground.
Billy was already moving toward them when he saw Ben get to his feet and pull back his right hand, like he was actually going to be dumb enough to throw a punch at Zeke the Geek.
Billy ran.
He ran as hard as he could and launched himself the way he had in the playground that day, the first time Ben had tangled with Zeke.
Only this time Billy was launching himself at his own brother.
It was more like a flying bear hug than anything else, but it did the job Billy wanted it to do and put Ben down on the ground before he hit Zeke.
Billy knew that even though Ben was littler and younger, if he had landed that punch, Zeke was going to punch back.
Billy and Ben went rolling on the small patch of lawn in front of MacKenzie’s. When Ben twisted around and saw it was his brother who’d brought him down from behind, like a guy catching you from behind in tackle football, Ben yelled, “Get offa me!”
The way he would when they’d be wrestling in the den or the basement over a video controller.
But Billy wouldn’t let him up, at least not yet.
He was sitting on Ben now.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Billy said. “Not until you wise up.”
Zeke Mills waved a hand at them, like he was bored all of a sudden, and said, “You two whack jobs go ahead and fight each other if you want to. I’m out of here.”
Ben, still trying to squirm out from underneath Billy, said, “Are you gonna let him shove me like that and just walk away?”
Zeke had walked up the street by now, on his way to meet up with the Ratner twins.
“What did you think was gonna happen here?” Billy said to his brother. “You were going to be the first kid in the history of the whole town to beat up the Geek?”
“Sometimes you have to hit back,” Ben said.
“And maybe hurt your hand doing it?
Real
smart, Ben.”
Billy noticed Lenny standing there above them, not saying anything, looking confused, as if this wasn’t the fight he expected to have to break up.
“Will you get off me now?” Ben said.
Billy did. They both got up, Ben more covered with grass and dirt than Billy was, having been on the bottom.
“That guy’s a jerk,” Ben said.
“And everybody knows it,” Billy said. “But you want to know something? You’re acting like a bigger one.”
He should have been able to catch his breath by now, but he was still steaming mad.
Not at Zeke.
At his own brother.
“You want to take a chance at messing up your hand before your recital, go ahead!” Billy said, yelling at Ben now. “From now on, I’m not stopping you.”
Ben said, “I never asked you—”
“Never asked me what? To save you from acting like a little baby? You’re right. I did that on my own. I figured it was something I was supposed to do. Sorry, my bad.”
He stuck his own hands in his pockets, so he wouldn’t be tempted to grab his brother himself and give him a good Zeke-like shake.
“If you don’t care what happens to you,” Billy said, “well, guess what? Neither do I.”
“Fine,” Ben said.
“Back at you,” Billy said. “You already cost me one game. You’re not costing me my championship game, too.”
Ben didn’t say anything. Suddenly the only sound on Main Street was the sound of the traffic.
“I’m through getting into trouble because of you,” Billy said. “You want to screw up your own season, go ahead. But you’re not screwing up mine.”
SIXTEEN
Billy and Ben barely talked to each other the next few days.
When their mom was home for dinner, she was always trying to get everybody talking to each other at the table. But the only time Billy or Ben would do that now was when one of them was asking the other to pass something.
It was that way until dinner on Thursday night, when Ben announced that his recital had been moved up two hours on Saturday, to eleven in the morning.
The same exact time as the championship game between the Magic and the Hornets at the high school.
“But it’s been on the schedule for one o’clock for months,” their mom said.
Ben said, “It’s because some big pipe burst at East School the other day. The dance kids were supposed to have their show in the gym over there, only now they can’t, on account of the pipe bursting and the gym getting flooded. So they have to use the gym at West on Saturday afternoon after we’re done, and they need time for their sets or whatever.”
It was the most Billy had heard Ben talk—about anything—since his fight with Zeke.
Their mom sighed and said, “So now you and Billy are playing at the same time.”
“Sorry,” Ben said.
“You didn’t do anything, honey. I’m just upset at the situation.”
“Well,” Eliza said, “it’s not
my
situation.” She always had to make things about her. “I’m leaving on my class trip tomorrow. At dawn, practically.”
Billy ignored his sister, as hard as that was, and said, “So, Mom, what are you going to do?”
Their mom rested her elbows on the table and made her fingers into a church steeple in front of her face, the way she always did when she was concentrating hard on something. “The only sensible plan, since you’re going to be at the game with your father, is for me to watch Ben play, and when he’s done, for us to get over to the high school as fast as we can. And even if we don’t make it, there will be one parent at each venue.”
Something made her laugh to herself then.
“What?” Billy said.
“Did I just say venue?” she said. “I make it sound like the Olympics, just for parents with too much going on.”
And that would have been a solid enough plan for everybody if she hadn’t gotten a phone call early the next morning, right after Eliza left, telling her she had to go up to Boston for the weekend. Some big “development” in the case she’d been working on.
Billy and Ben were eating breakfast when she told them about Boston, with about the saddest face Billy had seen on her since their dad had moved out.
“It can’t be helped,” she said. “They weren’t supposed to need me until Monday at the earliest. But then the judge issued this ruling late last night. . . .” She tried to smile at both of them, then said, “And you guys don’t care about any of this, do you? All you know is that now I’m not going to be there for either one of you tomorrow.”
Billy tried to help her out. “It’s your job, Mom.”
Ben didn’t say anything, so Billy kept going. “We know how important it is.”
“Not as important as you guys,” she said. “I
do
love my job, and won’t ever apologize for that, not even to—” She held up a finger like she was telling herself to stop right there. “But I love my children more.”
She said for them to finish their breakfast, that she needed to call their father and then talk to Peg about tomorrow.
Even after she left the room, Billy and Ben didn’t say anything to each other. But Billy knew they had to be thinking the exact same thing: One of them wasn’t going to have a parent watching tomorrow.
Billy had an idea which one of them it was going to be.
She was gone a long time. When she came back, she said, “Your father is determined to coach the game.” She was looking at Ben. “He says he has a responsibility to all the boys on the team, not just his son. And I have to tell you something, kiddo. I may not be happy with his decision, but I have to respect it.”
Billy said, “You’re taking
his
side now?”
“I didn’t say that. I said I respect his side. And knowing him, I understand it.”
“Here’s something Dad doesn’t understand,” Billy said. “We don’t need him as much as he thinks we do.”
His mom came over and put her hands gently on his shoulder. “You don’t mean that.”
“Oh, yes I do.”
“He’s coaching the game, and that’s it,” his mom said. “Peg will stand in for me at Ben’s recital. With our brand-new, handy-dandy digital recorder.”
She went over to the table, as if remembering Ben was still in the room, sat down next to him, covered his hand with one of hers. “I am
so
sorry.”
“Not a big deal,” Ben said.
“But it is a big deal. And if there was some way I could change things. . . .”
She was usually the one with the words, Billy thought.
Just not now.
“Mom,” Ben said, staring down at his empty cereal bowl, “it’s okay. Really.”
They all knew it wasn’t.
It was time for the bus by then. Their mom hugged them both a long time, said she’d call as soon as the shuttle landed in Boston. Then she reminded them for about the tenth time that each of them was supposed to call her on her cell tomorrow, Ben after the big recital, Billy after the big game.
Billy was the only one who heard the last part, because Ben was already out the door.
When they got on the bus, Ben went and sat by himself in the last row. He did the same thing on the way home.
When he got inside, he went straight up to his room. It was the first time Billy could ever remember him not stopping in the kitchen first for a snack.
Billy didn’t feel like a snack, either.
Instead he went and got his bike out of the garage and, for the first time, rode it the thirteen blocks to his dad’s new house.
SEVENTEEN
Somehow the distance between their house and his didn’t look so bad when it was just a few inches on a map. It was a lot longer when you actually had to go there, especially when it was this cold out, way too cold to be riding a bike today. The wind was so fierce on Billy’s face it was making his eyes water, but that didn’t stop him from pedaling as fast as he could. He hadn’t called first, knowing his dad would want to know why he was calling.
He knew his dad sometimes took a half day off work on Fridays and hoped this was one of those Fridays.
He came around the corner of Smith Ridge Road and saw his dad’s car parked in the driveway.
Billy walked his bike up to the front door and rang the doorbell, thinking for a second how weird that felt, having to ring a doorbell to talk to his own dad.
When Joe Raynor opened the door and saw it was Billy, he said, “Well, this is a surprise.”
“I need to talk to you about something,” Billy said. “Can I come in?”
“Of course you can,” he said.
When they were in the living room, his dad said, “You want something to eat or drink? You must’ve just come from school, right?”
Billy said, “I need to get home.”
It wasn’t really true, since Peg didn’t even know where he was. But Billy wanted to get this over with, say what he wanted to say and leave.
Mostly because he didn’t like it here. He hadn’t liked this place the time his dad had brought him to see it, after one of their nights out. He didn’t like it now. This wasn’t his “other home,” as his dad tried to call it, and never would be.
He had all the homes he needed already.
They sat on the couch. On a small desk against one of the walls, Billy saw there were pictures of him and Ben and Eliza.
Another one of them with their dad on the beach.
None of their mom.
“So what’s on your mind, bud?” he said, sounding a lot nicer than he had been around the team lately. “Did you come over here to help me draw up some plays for the big game?”
Billy decided to just come right out with it.
“I think you should let Mr. DiNardo coach tomorrow and that you should go to Ben’s recital.”
It was so quiet in the house Billy could hear the tick of a clock coming from some other room.
His dad said, “Listen, I already talked this out with your mother.”
“I know,” Billy said. “She told me before she left.”
“We decided this was the best way.”
“For you, maybe,” Billy said.
“It’s not your decision to make, son.”
Not bud anymore.
Son.
Lenny liked to joke about how dads could do that to you sometimes.
Billy had been
son
-ed.
Billy said, “Ben needs you more than the team needs you.”
“Is that so?”
“It is,” Billy said, “even if you don’t want to admit it. We already won once with Mr. DiNardo coaching. We can do it again.”
“We’re not going to debate this,” his dad said. “And I don’t want to fight with you. It seems like we’ve already done enough of that lately as it is.”
“I don’t want to fight, either, Dad. I just want you to change your mind.”
“I made a commitment to your team when I agreed to coach.”
In the quiet house Billy said, “What about your commitment to Ben?”
“Ben will be fine.”
“No, he won’t.” Billy got up off the couch, shaking his head, knowing now he had wasted his time coming over here, the way you finally knew you were going to lose a game, no matter how hard you tried.
But he’d had to at least try.
“Ben is Ben,” his dad said.
“Actually, he’s not,” Billy said. “In case you haven’t noticed, Dad, Ben hasn’t been Ben in a long time.”