It was the first day of summer vacation—well, second, really. But Saturday didn’t count since I’d had to help Mama clean house. Jemmie, my best friend, hoped summer would go by quick. She couldn’t wait to get to high school, where we could run track for real.
My kind-of-boyfriend, Ben, wished he could skip summer and high school and hit the road. All he needed was a license. And a car. And no little brother to watch.
His best friend and shadow, Justin, would do whatever Ben did.
Me? I wanted to run track for real, sure. But I knew everything was about to change. High school would be different. I liked things the way they’d always been in the neighborhood.
Just the way they were today.
We were all together, shooting hoops in the street in front of Mr. Barnett’s, taking shots at a rusty hoop left over from his grown-up kids.
“Say, Cass!” yelled Ben’s little brother, Cody. “You know what day it is?” He swung around, hugging the ball. “Don’t tell her, Ben!”
I pushed my damp bangs off my forehead with the back of my arm. “The start of summer vacation?”
“No!” Cody crowed. “It’s seven minus seven!”
Jemmie brushed a hand across Cody’s buzz cut. “Equals zero?”
“N-O! It’s my seventh birthday minus seven days!” He looked down at the ball in his hands, bounced it once, then hugged it again.
“Go on!” Ben clapped twice. “Take your shot while you’re still six.”
“Oh, right. Sure.” Cody swung the ball between his legs a couple of times and shouted, “Hey, bop-a-loo-bop!” which he says is lucky, and let it fly.
“Oh man,” Ben groaned as the ball sailed right over the backboard and landed on the roof of Mr. Barnett’s carport.
Cody twisted a fistful of his surfer-dude T-shirt. “Oops?”
Ben trudged over and rapped on Mr. Barnett’s door. The knock set off the old man’s two yappy little dogs, Killer and Lillian, but Ben had to ask permission to climb onto the hood of his pickup to get our ball—everyone said Mr. B has a gun and that he’s a little crazy because he got messed up fighting in Vietnam.
We watched Ben boost himself up on the hood. He fingertip-rolled the ball toward him until he could grab it. “Warm-up’s over, people.” The pavement rang under his sneakers as he jumped down. “Let’s play!”
Like always, it was Girls versus Guys.
“Three against two!” Cody yelled. “We are so going to win.”
Ben’s dark bangs hung over his eyes as he bounced the ball from hand to hand. “The teams are Cass and Jemmie on Girls, me and Justin on Guys. Cody, you can fetch loose balls.”
“Fetch?” Cody’s shoulders drooped. “What do you think I am? A dog?”
I tried to cheer him up. “Hey, running loose balls is important.”
“No it isn’t! I wanna play, Ben.” He bounced on his heels like he had to pee. “Please?”
I would’ve let Cody play—I have a big sister, and I know what it’s like to be the little kid. Just a few months ago, Ben would’ve let him too.
But today, he just crossed his arms.
“You gotta let me!” Cody stamped a foot. “Mom’s paying you to watch me!”
“And, oh boy, am I going to earn it,” Ben muttered. “Listen, let’s make a deal. You take another shot. Hit it and you’re in. Miss and you run loose balls.”
I knew what Cody would be doing one free throw from now. He never scores.
Considering his brother’s offer, Cody grabbed the pole of the basketball hoop and swung himself around it.
Ben shook his head. “This is going to be one long, hot, boring, brother-bugged summer.”
“Hey, summer’s gonna be great!” I didn’t want him to jinx it.
Cody held out his hands. “Sure, okay.”
Ben tossed the ball. Cody whooped, surprised that he had caught it.
I reached for his shoulder as he trotted toward the chalked free-throw line. “Cody, you might want to”—he flung the ball—“aim.” I watched it whump down on the carport roof.
The ball rolled to a stop in a pile of rotten leaves.
Justin rocked back on the worn-down heels of his kicks. “Good luck, Ben. You’re gonna need a broom to reach that one.”
Ben stared up at the ball, then turned and pointed down the street. “Go home, Cody. Now. And don’t come back till you’ve had a couple more birthdays.”
“B-but—” Cody sputtered. “I’m your paying summer job! Dad said!”
Ben’s arm stayed straight out. “Only on weekdays.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose.” Cody’s face was getting all splotchy.
“Come on, Ben.” I jogged over to Cody. “We know you didn’t.” I put a hand on his hot, damp shoulder. It felt trembly, like he was trying not to cry.
Ben walked over too, and dropped to one knee in front of him. “Give me a break, Cody. Go home. Bug Mom for a while. Let us get in a couple of games before school starts again.”
Cody drooped away, kicking the curb every other step.
I latched on to Ben’s T-shirt and swung him around. “You could’ve been a little nicer!” I whispered.
“I’m tired of being nice,” he whispered back. “And I’m tired of getting balls off the roof. And I’m tired of the same old, same old.” He looked around like the same old, same old included everything, even me. “I wish,” he said, jamming his fists into the pockets of his cutoffs, “just for once, something exciting would happen around here.”
This might just be the last summer of all of us together. Why couldn’t he just enjoy it? “Be careful what you wish for,” I warned.
He blew out, riffling his bangs. “Why? Wishes never come true anyway.”