Love Puppies and Corner Kicks Read online

“Yeh, ’cept I feel like I was whipped with brambles.”

  I help Margaret down the hill, her arm over my shoulder. By time we get to the trail where it flattens out, she can walk on her own. We walk way around the library and into the next neighborhood before we go on a road. I’m not taking any chances.

  When we get to the main road, my hands shake with relief. I put them in my pockets. “I c-c-can’t believe you fell asleep.”

  Margaret laughs. “Well I’m the relaxed type. By the way, that asthma coma, that was very original.”

  We both laugh at that. Then we walk quietly for a while. We hit North Donside Road where I have to turn right and Margaret left. We lean back against the stone wall at the corner under a streetlight and rest. “That was really dumb that we went there,” I say.

  Margaret is plucking gorse needles out of her arm and wincing. “Aye. It was an interestin’ place though, y’know? ’Specially at night.”

  “I guess. But I’m not going back.”

  “Me neither, unless Madonna gives a concert there or somethin’.” She grins. I like the way Margaret always finds stuff funny. We almost go to jail and she’s laughing about it already. “Yeah. Well, I better head home. I need to use me puffer.” We both push off the wall. “Hey, Andrea.”

  “Yeah?”

  Margaret puts a hand on my shoulder. “Thanks for helpin’ me out back there. You’ve a lot o’ guts.”

  I shrug. “Oh yeah. Anybody would have done that.”

  She gestures with her hands in the air. “I didn’t see anybody else rushin’ to take a turn. Not even Joseph. Wait’ll I give him a piece o’ my mind!”

  “Ooh. Wouldn’t want to be Joseph on Monday.”

  She cracks her knuckles and puts a little menace in her voice. “No ye wouldn’t.”

  I laugh. “I’m gonna go.”

  “Right. Hey, Andrea. I was almost crushed by the wheels! Woo, woo!” Margaret starts chug-chugging down the street.

  “See you at school,” I call.

  When I get back to the house, no one’s home yet. Then I remember—Mom is out shopping with Faith. Dad has a meeting. It’s only 9:45. I beat them. This is perfect.

  I go into the bathroom. My arms and hands are covered with scratches and they sting as I wash them. I put on a sweatshirt. Then the phone rings. I answer, “Hello?”

  “Hey, Andrea.” It’s Jasmine!

  This is very odd. “Yeah?”

  “Uh, I just thought I better call and let ye know—the police caught me at my house.”

  “W-w-w-what? How?”

  “I don’ know. They must’ve followed the trail back.”

  I can’t believe it, but I actually feel sorry for Jasmine. “Oh.”

  She hesitates. “Right. Well, the thing is, I had to give ’em yer name as well.”

  Adrenaline shoots through my body. I fumble the phone in my hands. W-w-what do you mean, you had to give them my name!?”

  “They caught me. I had to tell ’em everyone’s name.”

  Words spill out of me. I am so mad there is no problem making my words clear now. “Why? Were they torturing you or something?”

  She sounds bothered. “No. They said if I didn’t, that I would go to juvenile court. Anyway, don’t be surprised if they call or come to yer house.”

  The phone clicks. She hung up. My parents are going to be home any minute. Police may be coming—may be calling. What should I do? Tell them? Wait it out?

  I sit on my bed thinking. Every few seconds I get up and go to the window and check for police cars.

  My mother drives up. Faith comes skipping out of the car. A kid with no troubles. I can hear my mom come in the door downstairs. “Hello! We’re home!”

  Tell nothing. The police would never come out to a kid’s house about something like this. How would they even know where I live? I come down the stairs—everything normal—I’m calm. Keep my voice steady. “Hi, Mom.”

  Faith dances over, arms around me. “Hallooo, Andrea.” Her Scottish accent. The kid is always happy.

  “Hi, Faith.”

  “Want to see what I made in school?”

  I’m not going to say anything. No one’s coming here. “Uh, yeah, Faith.”

  Then I hear a car in the drive. Mrs. Eversole always drives down to the front of the house. This car is stopped near the top.

  “Uh, wait a minute, Faith. I just want to see something.”

  I look out the kitchen window at the top of the drive. I can make out a car. A big dark car parked in the shadows by the garage! It’s an unmarked car! Two dark figures are in the front.

  It’s the cops!

  28

  INDOMITABLE

  Unconquerable, incapable of being subdued.

  THEY’RE here already! I walk quickly over to the counter where my mom’s putting things away. “Mom, I’ve got to tell you something.”

  Faith is hanging there all ears. I look down at her. “This is private.”

  Mom looks surprised. “Really?” she says. She looks at me and then back to Faith. “Faith honey, you go put your things in your room.”

  Faith folds her arms. “I have something to tell, too. And it’s private.” She frowns at me.

  “You can be next, sweetheart. Right now, you go up and put your new clothes away in your room.”

  “Well, I—” Faith is trying to think up something else.

  There’s no time. I move toward her. “Just go up, Faith!”

  Her chin goes out. “Don’t push!”

  Force never works with Faith. For a skinny little kid, she is as stubborn as a rock. “Okay, okay. Just go. If you go now, I’ll play Dogs with you later.”

  “All right!” she says. And she’s up the stairs. Dogs is a game where I have to act like a big dog and Faith feeds me, combs me, and leads me around. It makes me insane but she loves it.

  Mom and I are alone in the living room. “Yes?” she asks. She has her arms folded and is looking at me very curiously.

  “Mom, I think I’m in trouble with the police.”

  Her mouth falls open. I spill my guts as quickly as I can. I have to get the whole thing out before the cops get down the driveway to the door.

  Just as I finish, the door swings opens. They don’t even knock! They’re trying to take me by surprise!

  “Hi, guys!” my dad says.

  After a little discussion my dad explains how he got a ride home from a friend tonight. A friend who owns a big black car. Then my mother says, “Tell your father.”

  I retell the whole sorry story. At the end Mom jumps in again with the standard, “If the other kids jumped off a building, would you jump? If they used drugs, would you?”

  “This wasn’t like that. It was different.”

  “Oh? How was it different?”

  I don’t have any good answers. Finally, she stops. “Just go to your room and think about what you’ve done.”

  Faith comes down and I get right into my bed. I’m exhausted. I figure I’ll just lie here and wait for the police to come. Maybe if I’m asleep they won’t take me. They’ll give me one more night with my family.

  My parents eye me over breakfast, but don’t say a lot. They’re still very much in the mad zone, which means silence. Mom steps out of the zone long enough to inform me that I am grounded for a week even though the police never showed up.

  When I get to school, it’s also very quiet, but there’s lots of looking around. Margaret turns around and leans on my desk. “How goes it?”

  I whisper back, “Okay. Uh, did you get a call from the police?”

  Her eyes get wide. “No! Did you?”

  I explain about Jasmine. “Did she call you?”

  “No,” Margaret says.

  Then from behind me I hear, “Heh, heh, heh.” It’s Jasmine! She is sitting there grinning at me and chuckling loudly to herself. Molly joins in. When they see my face they burst out laughing.

  And then I get it. There were never any police at Jasmine’s house! She trick
ed me into telling my parents!

  At recess, Margaret and I walk out together. Lynne and Becky come over. “Wha’s all this about the police?” Lynne asks.

  Go slow. “Jasmine c-c-called my house—”

  Margaret jumps in. “Jasmine told Andrea the police called her house. ’Course it was all a lie . . .”

  Margaret is still talking but I stop listening because Stewart is walking toward us. He stops about a yard away. Everyone gets quiet. He isn’t smiling. “Andrea. Could ye spare me a minute?” He’s looks right at me. “Alone.”

  I swallow. Becky and Lynne are leering like hyenas. I stare down at my Diadora soccer shoes. I can see Stewart’s Adidas are not moving. They are waiting. I can’t go. I can’t. Not right in front of everybody.

  “Please,” Stewart says, and then he turns scarlet.

  That breaks the spell. Stewart asking me to please do something? “Okay.”

  Lynne and Becky lean on each other and go “Ooooooh” together. I shudder. Stewart waits till I get up next to him before he turns and begins walking. We walk over to the edge of the playing field where a set of steps leads to the swings. He stops so I do, too. He stares over at the school. “I want to apologize.”

  I can’t believe it. “For what?”

  He waits a little before answering. “Fer callin’ ye a coward.” He’s still looking at the school. I don’t say anything and he keeps going. “I was mad at ye fer lettin’ those yobs keep us . . . y’know.”

  I look at the school, too. Breathe. Go slow. This is not a time to stutter. “I—know. I’m—sorry.” I did it! I said I was sorry—finally!

  He sighs. “I know.” He looks over at me. “But yer not a coward. I should o’ never said it. Ye helped Margaret last night when the rest o’ us ran away.” He bends down and picks at some grass. “She told me all about it on the bus. She woulda been caught or sick if ye hadn’t helped her. The rest o’ us just looked after ourselves.”

  I don’t know what to say. Stewart frowns and lowers his voice. “Andrea . . . ye know I was never cheerin’ against ye either. That was just cheerin’ our sister club on. I mean yer a brilliant player. Everyone knows that.”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “Yes, ye are. I just . . .” He hesitates. “I mean, we could still be friends, yeah?”

  My chest fills with sweet lovely air. The deep breath translates to a relaxing exhale and a smooth sentence. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” Wow! That was good talking. This is great! I can almost hear music like in a movie.

  “You two lovebirds finally settin’ the date?” Becky’s gravelly voice cuts through my movie soundtrack. She’s standing next to Lynne, Margaret, and a couple of other kids. They followed us over. Becky has the soccer ball on her hip. She’s smirking.

  Stewart steps forward and makes the moose antlers and stomps around. “Moooooossssse,” he bellows.

  Becky shakes her head. “Yer such an infant, Stewart. Y’know that?”

  Stewart stops and yells, “Oh yeah. And you’re Ms. Maturity!”

  I put a hand on Stewart’s arm. And I whisper, “Stewart. Stop.”

  Stewart’s mouth falls open. Becky yells again, “Well?! When’s the weddin’, Andrea? I want to get it on me calendar!” The group around her laughs so she keeps going. “You will be hitchin’ up, right?”

  I feel the red anger come up my neck. I am going to charge right over there and put Becky on her butt. I glance at Stewart. He is looking right at me. I breathe out. I can’t act like a maniac in front of him. I’ve got to use my words, like the teachers would say. I’ve got to do this myself. I take a deep breath. “Yeah!” I yell.

  “Yeah?” Becky looks at Lynne. “Yeah what?”

  Good question! Yeah what? I take a step forward. I haven’t thought this out. “Yeah.” I take another deep breath. “Yeah. We’re going to get married and have five kids tomorrow if w-we-we-woo-woo-woo . . .”

  29

  APLOMB

  A state of mind marked by easy coolness and freedom from uncertainty or embarrassment.

  EVERYTHING stops. The kids gape at me.

  I swallow hard. Instant tears burn red hot behind my eyes, bursting to get out. I thought I had it all under control! I was going to be so clever! Instead, now everyone knows! Stewart knows! Becky! Lynne! There’s no doubt anymore.

  Then Becky does the most horrible thing possible. She imitates me. “Woo, woo, woo! Woo, woo, woo!” she screams. She shakes her head around as she does it. Then she laughs. She pushes her laughter out, cackling and gasping for breath. “Ah, hah, hah. Woo! Woo! Hah, hah, hah.”

  I take a step toward Becky. I don’t care if Stewart sees. I am going to smash her face in and then we’ll see how funny it all is.

  “Woo! Woo! Hah, hah, hah.” Becky sways with laughter. It’s like gasoline on a fire. The laugh is so fake and forced it turns my stomach. It’s like Jennifer Borman and first grade all over again.

  But thinking of Jennifer Borman makes me think of Mrs. Galen. And Amanda Simons. I was in fourth grade then. Amanda would follow me around saying, “Duh, duh, duh,” till I finally flattened her. Mrs. Galen sat me down after. She actually said a bunch of stuff, but one thing stuck with me. She said, “People tease stutterers mostly out of their own insecurity. Don’t ever let them make their problem yours.”

  I stop my feet. I take a deep breath. I lift my chin and let the air fill my chest. I breathe again. I know what I have to do. First finish what I started.

  “Yeah!” I blow the word again out with a gust of air. “Yeah. We’re going to get m-m-m-married—and have five kids—to-to-tomorrow—if—we feel like it!”

  That came out like a train wreck, but there’s no turning back now. Becky keeps laughing, but it’s getting weaker. The other kids are just staring at me. “B-B-Becky. I’ve got a speech problem, all right? I stutter.” I scan the group of kids. “B-bubut I’m working on it.”

  Becky stops laughing and shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Then she looks at Lynne again, who is staring at me. The rest of the kids are fidgeting, looking for a clue on what they should be doing.

  I stretch my neck. Keep control. “M-m-m-maybe you sh-should—try working on your own problems—a little.”

  Becky jerks her chin up at me. “Shet up, you. Ah’ve no problems.”

  It’s quiet. Then Margaret says, “Maybe a little jealousy problem.”

  Becky sniffs and wrinkles her forehead. “Sure. Right.”

  Then from behind me I hear, “Ye know, that could be, Becky.” Stewart walks over till he is standing right next to me. “I mean, Ah’ve bin wantin’ to tell ye.” He pauses and hitches his thumbs in his belt loops. “I really did enjoy gettin’ yer valentine this year. I still have it in me desk, actually.”

  Becky says, “What?” She looks around to see who’s looking at her. Everyone is. She wrinkles her forehead. “In yer dreams! I never sent ye a flippin’ valentine.”

  Stewart raises his eyebrows in fake surprise. “No? Who else around here would send anybody a Team Scotland Women’s Soccer valentine, then?”

  Suddenly Becky’s cheeks are in flames! Stewart smiles and shrugs. “ ’ Cept maybe you, Lynne. After all, I did git two of ’em. And they are fairly rare, I would think.”

  Lynne and Becky stare at each other. Margaret is laughing. So are the other kids. Becky yells in Lynne’s face, “Ye said ye weren’t sendin’ any valentines!”

  Lynne says, “So did you! What’s wrong with ye?!”

  “Wrong with me?!” Becky pops her eyes. They look like they might go at it.

  Stewart leans over to me. “Ye wanta walk?”

  I nod and we turn around and fall right in step, leaving the argument and laughing behind us.

  He whispers, “That was very, very gutsy.”

  I shake my head. “I sh-sh-should have done it a l-l-long time ago.”

  We walk in silence, sort of aimlessly through the soccer field. Finally, he says, “Ye know. Ye really are.”


  Now I’m confused. “Really are what?”

  “A love puppy!” He kicks the side of my foot. “My God! Five kids!”

  I laugh. “Stop.” And I kick him back. Yay! Yay! Yay! I stuttered. He knows it. And he doesn’t care!

  Then he reaches out and holds—my—hand!

  I am feeling indomitable, which Word Power says means “incapable of being subdued, unconquerable.”

  It’s the perfect word.

  The DJ on Radio One is very excited. “Sunny with a high of twenty-one, folks. Beach weather, indeed!”

  I reach over and shut off my clock radio. Twenty-one celsius is like seventy degrees Fahrenheit. Only in Scotland would they call seventy degrees beach weather.

  I drag myself out of bed. It is the last day of school. And that stinks! Normally sunny weather and the last day of school would not depress me, but this is different.

  Stewart and I have been talking every day since I came out of the speech closet. We have passed the kicking stage. We even eat lunch together at my desk. Lynne and Becky have nothing to say about it. He’s told me all about his sister, Eileen (brilliant, but a pain), his mother (divorced and living in London), and how he used to have a crush on Lynne till I came along. (Ha-ha, Lynne!)

  I tell him about The Blast, living with Mr. Dryden, and even my burning raincoat. I didn’t know talking to a boy could be so much fun. We talk about pretty much everything. Even stuttering. Everything, that is, except leaving.

  He’ll be back here next year and I won’t. Like Mom said back in August when I was fighting this whole thing, “It’s only for a year.” What do you say to a boy like Stewart on the last day you’re gonna see him? Now that I’m not scared to talk anymore, I don’t know what to say.

  It’s a half day. Last days always are. Most of the morning we clean out our desks and help Mrs. Watkinson pack books away. The rest of the time we eat last day party goodies everyone brought in and talk. Then, bang! The morning is gone. It’s time to line up for buses. Stewart is in the front.

  Mrs. Watkinson insists on hugging everyone as we go out, even the boys. She’s crying. She says, “You’re the best class I’ve ever had.”