It was a warm Sunday afternoon in late March. The air was soft and lazy and filled with optimism. The snow from the last few months had melted away, and the birds had returned home to sing songs celebrating its disappearance. Colds and coats were being replaced with allergies and sweatshirts. All evidence suggested that winter’s grip had loosened and spring was ready to make its welcome return.
Drew was as excited as anyone for the seasonal shift, because the arrival of spring meant the arrival of baseball. Practice hadn’t officially started yet, but, knowing the temperature would fluctuate throughout the upcoming weeks, Drew called his friends and suggested they take advantage of the warm weather.
He waited by the curb a few doors up from his house. He seemed to always be running late for school, but, miraculously, he was always early when it came to baseball.
“Hello, Drew.”
Drew looked over and saw his neighbor kneeling on a soft pad on the ground, working in her garden.
“Hey, Mrs. McGrath, what’s up?”
“Oh, cleaning up the garden. It’s finally that time of year again. What are you up to?”
“I’m waiting for my friends. They’ll be here soon,” said Drew. He smiled and held up his baseball mitt. “Finally time for baseball, too,” he added, smacking the palm of his mitt with the back of his right fist.
Mrs. McGrath smiled and continued yanking the weeds from her garden.
“How’s school going?” she asked.
“Pretty good. The last quarter starts soon, so that’s good.”
“And how’s your dad? I see him picking you up sometimes, but I haven’t talked to him in a while.”
“He’s good,” said Drew. He stopped smacking his mitt so he could answer the question more thoroughly. “Well, he’s really good. I think he might get a promotion at work. He works a lot – hey, what are you doing?”
“What do you mean?” said Mrs. McGrath. “I’m just gardening.”
“Yeah, I saw you pull the weeds and turn over the soil. I get that. But why are you ripping the dandelions out?”
“Oh, because they don’t belong there.”
“Why not?”
“They just don’t.” She pointed to a group of red flowers and said, “I planted the tulips, and they’re about ready to bloom.” She nodded at the yellow flowers to her left. “And the daffodils, too. Oh, and those lavender ones, those are my crocuses. They’re the first to bloom every year. I just love them. But the dandelions, they came up all on their own.”
“But don’t you think dandelions are pretty, too? Like, by themselves?”
“Well,” said Mrs. McGrath, “I guess I do.”
“Then why would you get rid of them?”
“You’re just full of questions, aren’t you,” Mrs. McGrath laughed. “I guess because it just isn’t the right place for them. I purposely planted my flowers where I did. All in a row, all in a line. But dandelions just sprout out wherever they feel like. They just … they aren’t planned, that’s all.”
Jeff appeared at the end of the street, a navy blue baseball hat on his head and his mitt on his hand. He waved as he made his way toward Drew.
“All right, my friend’s here. See you later, Mrs. McGrath.”
“Bye, Drew. Have fun.”
Moments after Jeff arrived, a car pulled up and Caleb hopped out, his Emerson baseball hat from last year concealing his long dark hair. All three boys wore hats as a silent reminder that baseball season was around the corner. Drew wore his Pirates hat all the time, while the others reserved their hats for playing baseball or attending baseball games.
Drew had kept his distance from Caleb since their adventure to The Shack. The only times he had spoken to him were when Tommy would include him in a conversation at school. Luckily, Caleb sat with his hockey friends at lunch, and Drew did his best to avoid him otherwise. He still wasn’t thrilled with the kid who had fought with Zobby and ditched them in the woods, but he figured it was best to put their differences aside and focus on playing ball. He decided it was probably best not to invite Zobby on days when Tommy invited Caleb. That way there would be less fighting.
Each boy had his mitt on his hand, and, just like always, Tommy brought the bat and ball. No one ever needed to ask who would supply those two items. It had become Tommy’s duty long ago, and he embraced it. The three other boys stood by the curb as Tommy made his way toward them from his house. As soon as he was within throwing distance, he reached back and heaved the ball.
“Catch!”
The three boys jostled for position and reached out as the ball came toward them. It landed in Drew’s mitt a bit harder than he expected.
“Wait, this is a hardball,” he said.
“Yeah,” said Tommy, now standing just a few feet away.
“But we’re playing in the street, so we have to use a tennis ball. Our parents have told us like a hundred times.”
“I couldn’t find a tennis ball. I think Link chewed ‘em all up,” said Tommy, turning his hat backwards.
“Oh. I can go find one –”
“What for?” Caleb interjected. “Tennis balls are for babies.”
“Yeah,” said Tommy. “I don’t wanna stand around while you look for a tennis ball. Don’t worry, we’ll be careful.”
Drew felt convinced enough. If they were responsible enough to go to Melia’s on their own, they were responsible enough to play a little hardball in the street.
“All right, let’s play.”
****
The four boys walked to the end of the street where there weren’t any cars. Then they spread out and began to catch. Drew set his feet and threw the ball to Jeff, who in turn threw to Tommy, who reared back and fired to Caleb. Caleb’s first throw to Drew bounced a few feet in front of him and skipped past.
As Drew sprinted down the street for the ball, Caleb yelled, “That was my curve.”
The boys continued to throw in this square-like shape.
“Hey, did you save up enough money for your bike yet?” Drew asked Jeff.
Jeff had wanted a new bike for a while but didn’t get one for Christmas. So now he had to save enough money to buy it himself.
“Almost,” Jeff said excitedly. “I need two hundred forty dollars and I have two twenty-five. And my neighbor said she’d give me fifteen bucks to help her clean out her basement next week. And then I’ll have a brand new bike.”
“How’d you save up all that money?” asked Caleb.
“Bunch of ways. I traded in some old video games, and I got extra money for Christmas from my Pap.”
Drew could see the pain in Jeff’s face as soon as he said the words. It was as though Jeff, for just a second, forgot his Pap was gone.
The next few cycles of throwing were silent. Drew figured it was best to stay quiet – resuming the conversation or changing the subject seemed like it would be disrespectful to Pap – but Tommy picked up right where they left off.
“I always spend money as soon as I get it,” he said.
To Drew’s surprise, Jeff answered quickly and unoffended: “And that’s why I’m gonna have a cooler bike than you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy said as he whipped the ball to Caleb.
“Ya know,” said Caleb, “you might have a cooler bike, but so what? You’re still not better at baseball.”
“I’m just as good as you, Caleb,” Jeff contended.
“Yeah, right. I guarantee I could strike you out.”
“No way!” said Jeff. He fired the ball to Tommy much harder than before. The mitt popped like it was an exclamation point to Jeff’s response.
“Yes huh! You’re lucky we’re on the same team, or I’d be striking you out all the time.”
“No, I could definitely crush one off you!”
“Okay, prove it,” said Caleb.
“How?”
“I’ll pitch to you right here in the street.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Yeah. What’s the matter? You scared I’ll strike you out?” Caleb sneered.
“No. You still mad Zobby struck you out?” Jeff bit back. It was unlike Jeff to be so aggressive, but he seemed to have gained some mettle since his Pap’s death.
“Man, you gotta be kidding me,” said Caleb. “We’ve been over this. It was one time …” Now he shot venom with his words: “Plus, I’m a better athlete than all of you.”
All three other boys’ eyes widened, and a moment of stunned silence passed.
“Stop being a baby and get up to bat. I’ll show you up right now,” Caleb continued.
“No,” said Jeff, clearly agitated. “We’re not even on a field. And the field at the park is still too muddy. We don’t even have a mound, or a catcher, or an ump!”
“So? Here, this’ll be the plate …” Caleb grabbed Jeff’s mitt off his hand and slapped it on the pavement. Then he walked several paces up the street. “I’ll pitch from here. This is about the space from the mound to home plate. Tommy can catch and Drew can be the umpire.”
“But we don’t have catcher’s equipment,” Jeff argued.
“Yeah, I’m not catching without a mask … or a cup,” said Tommy. “I guess I shoulda looked harder for a tennis ball, huh?”
Caleb thought for a moment. “Okay, so Drew and Tommy can stand like ten feet behind the plate and call balls and strikes. And they can catch the pitches that get past. ‘Cause trust me, they will get past. Three of ‘em, right in a row. And when I strike you out, no more Zobby jokes. If you even hit one off me, I’ll admit you’re better than me – unless you just wanna admit now that I’m better than you.”
Jeff was fuming. “Fine! Let’s do it!” He grabbed the bat and got into his batting stance.
Caleb peered over the top of his mitt, trying to intimidate his opponent.
“Pitch it,” Jeff demanded.
Drew and Tommy stood about 15 feet behind Jeff.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” said Drew.
“It’s not a good idea for him ‘cause I’m gonna smash one right over his head!” Jeff bellowed.
Caleb was already in his wind-up. He turned, reached back, and threw the ball as hard as he could. It landed a foot in front of the plate, but Jeff swung anyway. It bounced past him and into Tommy’s mitt.
“Ha, that’s strike one,” Caleb boasted.
“C’mon, Jeff, that was way too low,” said Drew. He forgot he had been opposed to this challenge, and he now found himself rooting for his best friend to blast one over Caleb’s head.
Tommy tossed the ball back to Caleb.
“Pitch it again,” Jeff growled, wringing the bat.
Caleb had a sly smile on his face. He wound up and pitched the ball. This pitch was a little faster than the first, but it was right down the middle. Jeff swung hard, but again the bat made no contact with the ball. It flew past him, bounced once, and Drew snagged it.
“Steee-rike two!” Caleb roared.
“Shut up. You’re not the umpire,” said Jeff.
Caleb laughed. “One more strike and you’re out.”
“Count’s nothing and two,” said Tommy.
Caleb took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. With his glove tucked under his arm, he put his hat back on and rubbed the ball hard with his bare hands. “Sorry, Jeff, this will only take a sec. The ball’s all scuffed up since it hit the street … you know, ‘stead of your bat.”
Jeff waited in the invisible batter’s box with the bat held high.
“What, no comeback?” said Caleb.
“Just pitch.”
The next pitch was Caleb’s attempt at a curveball. Just like when he threw to Drew, the ball bounced several feet before its intended destination. Jeff let this one pass him.
“Ball one. One ball, two strikes,” said Tommy.
“That was my curve,” said Caleb.
“Oh, good one,” Jeff said sarcastically. “You might wanna stick to hockey.”
“Shut up. I won’t waste my time anymore. Here comes strike three.”
Caleb wound up and delivered the pitch.
“C’mon, Jeff, you got this,” Drew whispered to himself. He found himself rooting against Caleb just as much as he was rooting for Jeff.
The ball sizzled toward the plate. Jeff swung. Ping! The ball jumped from the bat and towered over Caleb’s head and above the treetop horizon. The bat dropped from Jeff’s hands. Each boy stood and watched, helplessly frozen by the soaring white dot. It descended toward a red-brick house up the street.
The unmistakable sound of shattering glass filled the air. Drew felt certain the entire neighborhood must have heard it.
****
“Oh, crap!” Caleb shouted.
Each boy’s eyes darted around, first at each other, then at their surroundings. They ran toward the house but stopped as soon as they were close enough to see the damage. A rectangular window on the right side of the red-brick house was broken. Only jagged shards around the edge remained.
“Look what you did, Jeff,” said Caleb.
Jeff’s lips quivered, but no words escaped. His face was a mask of shock, fear, and guilt.
“We gotta get outta here,” said Tommy.
Finally Jeff spoke. “I … This is your fault, Caleb.”
“Me? You hit it. And Tommy’s the one who made us use a hardball.”
“What? You can’t blame me,” said Tommy.
“You can’t blame me either,” said Caleb. “If I get in trouble for this, my parents will seriously ground me forever.”
“But …” Jeff started. He looked like he was going to be sick. He turned his pale face to Drew in desperation, and Drew knew exactly what he was thinking. If Jeff got in trouble for this, his parents would make him use his bike money to pay for the window.
A pair of headlights emerged from the end of the street.
“Someone’s coming,” said Tommy.
“Run! We’ll go to Tommy’s house,” said Caleb, taking off down the street.
Without hesitation, Tommy picked up the remaining evidence – his bat – and followed Caleb.
“Come on, guys!” Caleb shouted back to Jeff and Drew.
Jeff looked to Drew. He gave an apologetic shrug of the shoulders, picked up his mitt, and took off after Caleb and Tommy. The car slowed down and pulled into a driveway several houses up the street. A woman got out of the car and walked into her house without even looking in Drew’s direction. And those guys ran away as if –
“Hey!” Mr. Kaminsky had emerged from his front door. He lumbered toward Drew, clenching the baseball in his meaty hand.
“Drew? My kitchen window – did you see who did this?”
“I … I …”
He looked back, hoping his friends had decided to return to the scene of the crime and turn themselves in, or at least admit some fault, but no one was there. He was all alone. The only thing he could think to say was, “It was me. I broke your window.”
Tommy brought the hardball, Caleb made the challenge, and Jeff hit the ball that smashed the window. So how did I end up taking the fall?
****
“Let’s go talk to your mom,” said Mr. Kaminsky.
When they walked through the front door, Penny was on the phone with a potential home buyer.
“If you want to put in an offer, I’d do it soon. There just aren’t many houses like it in the North Hills area, so it won’t be available much longer. But something just came up. Think it over, and I’ll give you a call back first thing tomorrow morning. … Okay, Nicole, sounds good.”
“Hi, Penny.”
“Hey, Mike. Everything okay?”
“Well,” said Mr. Kaminsky, “my kitchen window is broken to pieces, and, well, your son apparently knows how it happened.”
Why did Mr. Kaminsky say it like that? Drew wondered. Why didn’t he just tell her I broke the window?
“Drew …” Penny said with sudden anger in her voice. “What happened?”
“Well, we were playing baseball in the street, and –”
“But you were using a tennis ball, weren’t you?” She hadn’t noticed the baseball in Mr. Kaminsky’s hand.
“We couldn’t find one, so we used a baseball. But we were being careful.”
“So how did Mr. Kaminsky’s window happen to break?”
Drew thought one last time about telling the truth. He wanted to tell them exactly what happened: Tommy brought the hardball, Caleb initiated the confrontation, and Jeff hit the ball. He also wanted to tell them he was the only one who said using the baseball was a bad idea. But, for some reason, he found himself telling a different story.
“Um, the other guys went home, and I just wanted to hit one more pop-up to myself. I thought it would go straight up in the air. But I hit it too hard, and it ended up going through Mr. Kaminsky’s window.”
Drew had lied to his dad about The Shack, he lied to everyone about Trevor, and now he was lying again. Each time, it seemed to be the only option he had. Lying was the only way his friends would be safe and Jeff could still get his bike.
“So, is that how it happened?” said Mr. Kaminsky.
Penny shook her head side to side.
“Mike, we will obviously pay for the window,” she said. “Let me know how much it costs and we’ll take care of it. Drew, did you tell Mr. Kaminsky how sorry you are?”
“I’m really sorry, Mr. Kaminsky. It really was an accident, I swear.”
“I know, Drew. Accidents do happen,” said Mr. Kaminsky. He looked over at Penny as she sighed and rubbed the side of her face. He turned to walk out the door but stopped and said, “You like to paint, right, Drew?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Well, the fence in my backyard needs painted. I’m not sure I’ll have time to do it, and the arthritis in my hand has been acting up. I was gonna pay someone to do it next weekend, since this sunny weather is supposed to hold up for at least another week. But here’s an idea – you could paint the fence for me, and then we’ll call it even. Of course, I’d still expect you to do a good job.”
Mr. Kaminsky was looking at Drew but seemed to be talking to Penny. “Of course, this is only if it’s okay with your mom.”
“Oh, Mike, are you sure about this?”
“Sure I’m sure. I got to see the mural Drew painted on the swing set at the park before the storm hit. I saw how hard he worked on it. If he puts that same effort into the fence, he’ll do fine.” He turned back to Drew. “I know it doesn’t sound like as much fun, but whadda ya say? Do we have a deal?” He extended his hand toward Drew.
Drew looked at his mom. Her expression seemed to indicate approval. Feeling like there was no other option, Drew accepted the gesture and said, “All right, Mr. Kaminsky. It’s a deal.”
“Good. Be at my house Saturday at nine a.m.” He stopped before he was out the door and turned back. “And Drew …” He smiled and tossed the baseball to him. “Don’t be late.”
****
While Drew waited for his mom to start yelling at him, he wasn’t thinking about the painting, the swing set, the window, or even the picture on page 139. Instead, he was thinking about Jeff’s bike. Jeff had run so he wouldn’t have to spend his bike savings on a new window. But, as it turned out, he never would’ve had to pay the money anyway. And now Drew was still left to bear the blame.
“Andrew, go to your room now.”
“But just –”
“No, none of that. I am furious with you.” Penny picked up the phone from the table next to the couch.
“Who are you calling?” Drew asked.
“Your father.”
“Oh, why?”
“Drew, enough. Get to your room.”
Drew slunk out of the living room and grabbed the phone from the kitchen on his way. When he got to his room he turned it on, covering the end with his hand and breathing lightly so his eavesdropping couldn’t be detected.
“I’ve told him a million times not to use a hardball in the street. It’s like he doesn’t get it,” Penny was saying.
Drew heard what he recognized as a frustrated sigh from his dad.
“All right, how much is it gonna cost?”
“Well, actually …” Penny explained Mr. Kaminsky’s suggestion.
“I don’t know about that, Pen.”
Drew knew his dad would be unsure about Mr. Kaminsky’s idea. Mr. Daley never liked to take shortcuts that would leave him feeling like he owed something to somebody.
“I think it would be good for him,” said Penny.
“Do you think he learned his lesson?” Mr. Daley asked.
“I just don’t know anymore. I thought the whole thing with the woods would have calmed him down. He seemed to be fine, but now this. It’s starting to feel like one thing after another. And before you know it, it’ll be summer, which is always difficult because then he has even more free time.”
“He’ll be all right.”
“I know he’ll be all right, Ryan. But I want more than that for him. Drew’s a good kid, but he gets into some bad situations.”
“Think that has anything to do with that Caleb kid?” Mr. Daley asked.
“I don’t know, he seems harmless. Maybe just a little more outgoing.”
“I dunno, Pen, he seems kind of like a schemer. I –”
“So are you saying you don’t want Drew to paint the fence?”
After a pause, Mr. Daley said, “No, it’s fine. He can paint the fence. I know Kaminsky’s a good guy. If that’s what he wants to do, that’s fine. Wait, hold on … yeah, that’s my boss on the other line. I have to take this.”
“All right.”
“Tell Drew I’ll catch up with him later.”
Drew wished he’d never picked up the phone in the first place. He shouldn’t have heard all that. The disappointment in his mom’s tone. The irritation from his dad. It was too much to take.
For the first time ever, Drew resented his friends, even Jeff. Drew did nothing wrong, but he had to pay. It was his Saturday that was wasted, not theirs. It was his parents who were disappointed, not theirs. After all he had done for his friends, he felt betrayed.
He had trouble falling asleep that night. His head was filled with the sound of shattering glass, and he was still bothered by his parents’ conversation. He turned on his light and opened his science book to page 139. The drawing of the ocean shore hidden away inside the book was a lot like Mrs. McGrath’s dandelions – neither belonged. But Drew didn’t care for Mrs. McGrath’s theory.
Who gets to pick where something fits in?
After studying the picture for a few moments, the sound of breaking glass was replaced by the sound of breaking waves.
****
Monday morning began with a lecture. Penny admonished Drew about using a hardball in the street just as she had done many times before, but this time she spoke in the “I told you so” tone adults seem to relish.
“And you understand why I’m upset, right? It’s okay to play baseball with a hardball at a field, but not in the street. The same way it would be fine to scream and yell at a ball game but not in school.”
It was one thing to be punished for going to The Shack – he knew he deserved that. But Drew didn’t have much interest in being scolded for something he didn’t do, so this lecture fell on deaf ears.
To make matters worse, when he got to school he didn’t receive the hero’s welcome he had expected. He thought Jeff, Tommy, and Caleb would be grateful for his sacrifice, but none of them mentioned the incident at all. And, because no one brought it up, the others didn’t even know Drew had gotten caught, or that he’d be painting a fence on Saturday.
Instead, most of the conversation all week (especially during lunch) was dominated by the big birthday party Tia Cardiff was having on Saturday. The entire fifth grade was invited, along with many other kids. Tia’s family lived in the biggest house in Emerson. On Monday everyone was talking about how they had a basketball court and a heated indoor swimming pool. On Tuesday everyone was talking about how a magician would be at the party. On Wednesday Skylar told Drew she was going to be there, which meant Drew would miss out on spending time with the only other person he had found who appreciated the ocean shore drawing.
By Thursday Drew couldn’t take it any longer. He quickly ate his packed lunch and asked Mr. Frye, who was on cafeteria duty, if he could go to his locker to get his lunch card. He couldn’t sit and listen to everyone talk about a party he wouldn’t be able to attend.
As he loafed to his locker, Zobby came speeding up alongside him.
“Hey,” she said, giving him a friendly nudge with her elbow.
“Hey, where are you going?”
“I forgot my lunch card in my locker. Gotta run and get it. I’ll see ya in the cafeteria,” she said as she passed him.
“Isn’t lunch like halfway over?”
“That’s why I’m running. I was talking to Mr. Barker for a while. He really wants me to start playing an instrument.”
“That’s cool. Can I walk with you?”
“Sure. What’s up? Something wrong? Why aren’t you still in lunch?” Zobby’s line of questioning was as quickly paced as her gait.
“I dunno. It’s just some stuff with the guys.”
Zobby slowed down. “What happened?”
“Just some stupid stuff,” Drew said.
“What kind of stupid stuff?”
“I dunno. It’s nothing.”
“Oh. Well, it happens. It’ll probably blow over. Hey, on Saturday I got in a big fight with Mary Beth. I was over her house and her brother was playing wiffle ball with his friends and they needed an extra player. So I played because, why not, ya know? But Mary Beth wouldn’t play. Then she was mad at me because I wasn’t hanging out with her. I said she should’ve played, too. Then she said I wanted to be a boy. Like, just because I played wiffle ball doesn’t mean I wanna be a boy, ya know? I’m just good at wiffle ball. I dunno. I guess she was just mad ‘cause I was playing with them instead of her. But the next day she wasn’t mad anymore and everything was back to normal. We never even had to talk about it, ya know? Sometimes we get mad at each other, but then things go back to normal. Maybe that’s what being friends is all about.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Drew.
Zobby snatched her lunch card from her locker. “Well, I’m starving, so let’s go.”
On their way back to the cafeteria, Zobby asked, “You excited for Tia’s birthday party on Saturday? I think it’s from eleven ‘til three. Did you know they have a pool where music plays underwater? Isn’t that like, the coolest thing ever? My mom can take us if you need a ride.”
“I can’t go.”
“What do you mean you can’t go? Your girlfriend Skylar Jansen is in the same dance class as Tia, so she’s gonna be there!” She completed her mockery by making kissing noises.
“First off, she’s not my girlfriend. We just talk sometimes. And second, I have to do something on Saturday.”
“With your dad?”
“No, it’s pretty much the reason things are so weird with me and the guys right now.”
“Well,” Zobby said as they entered the cafeteria, “you obviously don’t wanna tell me what it is. But whatever it is, I’d try to get out of it. I wouldn’t wanna miss this party.”
****
On Friday afternoon, as social studies class was about to end, the students were gathering their things and getting ready to go home. Mr. Sawyer was standing near Drew, Jeff, and Tommy, while Caleb was talking to Danny a few feet away.
“Anyone have fun plans for the weekend?” Mr. Sawyer asked.
“Tia’s having a huge birthday party tomorrow,” said Tommy.
“It’s gonna be awesome,” said Jeff. He turned to Drew. “You’re going, right?”
“No, I have to paint a fence tomorrow.”
“Well, hey, painting can be fun,” said Mr. Sawyer. “You like to paint, right?”
“Well, yeah …”
“Where’s the fence? Your backyard?” Mr. Sawyer asked.
“No, I have to paint a neighbor’s fence ‘cause I accidentally hit a baseball through his window,” said Drew, as if that was what really happened. It was as if he had told the lie so many times that he forgot it was a lie in the first place.
Jeff and Tommy exchanged nervous glances, as if they were wondering if Drew was tempted to tell Mr. Sawyer the truth. Caleb, oblivious to the conversation, was giggling and playing a hand-slap game with Danny.
Mr. Sawyer smiled. “I’ve been there.”
“You’ve been to Mr. Kaminsky’s house?” Drew asked.
“No, Drew, I mean I’ve broken some windows in my day.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really?” said Jeff.
“Sure. One time, I was about your age, maybe a little older, and my friends and I were having a snowball fight. We were firing those babies at each other. We were behind our fort, and my buddy was making them while I was throwing them. He handed me one and I threw it without realizing it was actually a big chunk of ice.”
“Oh, man,” said Tommy. “What happened?”
“Luckily for my target, he ducked. But it flew over him and smashed the windshield of a car.”
“No way! You can’t smash a windshield with a snowball,” said Tommy.
“I did. Things can break pretty easily when it’s very cold out.”
“How much trouble did you get in?” Jeff asked.
“And how hard did you throw it?” added Tommy.
“I threw it about as hard as I could. Anyway, I thought a vein was going to pop out of my dad’s forehead when he was yelling at me. But I ended up with a punishment similar to Drew’s.”
“What do you mean?” Drew asked.
“The car belonged to a woman named Miss Barr. I agreed to shovel her sidewalk and driveway every day for the rest of that winter. So every morning I got up early, and if it had snowed that night, I walked up to her house and shoveled. And if it snowed throughout the day, I went and shoveled in the afternoon.”
“That stinks,” said Tommy. “I’d never wanna do that.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice,” said Mr. Sawyer. “But Miss Barr told me something that I’ve always remembered, even though it didn’t mean much to me at the time. She said, ‘When you have to do something you don’t want to do, do it with a smile on your face. You’ll find that it’s not so bad after all.’”
The boys looked at their teacher blankly.
“I like that advice,” said Mr. Sawyer. “Anyway, you said it was an accident, right?”
“Yeah, it was totally an accident,” said Drew without looking at his friends.
“The way I look at it,” the young teacher said, “every kid is allowed one broken window.”
All three boys smiled.
“You gotta let kids be kids, right?” said Tommy.
“I think so,” Mr. Sawyer answered. “You’ve got to let kids be kids. Otherwise, the balance of the universe is disrupted.”
****
“Hey, Drew, hold up,” Jeff yelled.
Drew was already heading out the door of the school.
“Listen, man,” said Jeff, catching his breath, “I’m sorry.”
Drew looked at his best friend without changing his facial expression.
“Okay,” he said.
“I didn’t know what to do, and I thought I’d get in a ton of trouble,” said Jeff. “And I thought you woulda run, too. I didn’t think you’d stay behind.”
As they talked, Tommy caught up to where they were standing.
“It’s okay,” said Drew.
“No, it’s not,” Jeff went on. “I’m the one who broke the window. I should be the one in trouble, not you.”
“Yeah, but if you say it’s you now, we’ll all get in trouble,” said Tommy. “Plus Drew will get in trouble for lying.”
It was clear that Tommy had already considered what would happen if the boys came clean.
“Drew’s the man for not ratting us out,” he said, putting his arm around him. “’Cept he does have a thick skull …” He lightly knocked on Drew’s head with his knuckles. “You gotta learn to run away, man! My brother taught me that when I was like five.”
Drew shrugged his shoulder to get Tommy’s big arm off. “Oh well, can’t do anything now.”
“I really feel bad,” said Jeff. “Are you at least coming to any of Tia’s party tomorrow?”
“No, I’m painting tomorrow, probably all day.”
“What if you finish early?”
“Doesn’t matter. My parents said I’m not going anywhere all weekend. That’s the other part of my punishment.”
“Wow, that’s the worst,” said Tommy. “This party is gonna be sick! I heard there’s gonna be a hypnotist there to make people do stupid stuff.”
“I didn’t know you were friends with Tia,” said Drew. “Do you ever talk to her?”
“No, I’m not, I mean, she’s okay I guess. Everyone’s invited, so it doesn’t really matter. I dunno, it’ll be cool,” stumbled Tommy. “Anyways, I gotta go see if me and Caleb are riding to the party together. I’ll see you guys later.”
Jeff looked at Drew sincerely. “Is there anything I can do? You know, to make it up to you.”
“It’s fine, man,” said Drew. “Don’t worry about it. And this way you’ll be able to work on your neighbor’s house soon, get the money, and get your bike.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Last night my dad asked me how much I saved for the bike. After I told him I was only fifteen bucks short he was like, ‘I’m proud of you for saving up for something you wanted.’ And then he told me he wants to open a bank account for me and put in the money I saved, and at first I thought he wasn’t letting me buy the bike, ya know? But then he took me out to the driveway and showed me the brand new bike he bought me! It’s so awesome.”
“That’s great, man. I can’t wait to take it for a test ride.”
“For sure. It’s so fast.”
As the two walked home, Jeff talked about all the features of his new bike: the sparkling, navy blue paint, the 24-inch wheels, the handlebar brakes, and even a set of axle foot pegs.
All the while, Drew mulled over the recent events. He had originally stayed to take the blame so Jeff would be able to keep his bike money. Then Mr. Kaminsky didn’t even ask for money for the broken window, and now Jeff’s dad bought him the bike anyway.
Drew was happy that someone took the blame, because Mr. Kaminsky didn’t deserve to have his window broken. But, Drew thought, why does it have to be me?
****
Saturday morning Drew stood in Mr. Kaminsky’s backyard staring at an unpainted wooden fence that might as well have extended forever. He tried to convince himself that this could somehow be fun, but standing there with the daunting task ahead was downright painful.
An open can of white paint sat on the ground. Next to it was a plastic package containing two brand new paintbrushes. Mr. Kaminsky opened the package and handed a brush to Drew. He took the other brush, dipped it in the paint, and showed Drew the proper fence-painting technique.
After his short demonstration, he set the brush down and said, “You have everything you need. I have to go run some errands, but I’ll be back in a couple hours.” He lifted his sunglasses and scanned the entire fence. “Maybe you’ll be done by then,” he said in a tone Drew couldn’t differentiate between sarcastic and sincere.
As Drew painted, each minute felt like ten. It seemed impossible that he would ever be able to finish. He occasionally stepped back to check his progress, but the white section of the fence seemed like a speck compared to what was still left to paint. Painting with his dad had been fun. This was not. Looking at the fence, he didn’t see the beauty he saw in the ocean scene drawing, nor did he feel the same pride he felt when painting the swing set. Instead, all he saw was uneven paint dripping down the wood, and all he felt was frustration toward the whole situation.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. I didn’t even break the stupid window.
“Hello,” said a voice from the yard next door.
A young boy’s face peeked over the fence. Looking through the planks of the fence, Drew could see that the boy was standing on a patio chair.
“Hi,” Drew nodded and continued painting.
“Whatcha doin’?” the boy asked.
“Painting this fence.”
“That’s Mr. Kaminsky’s fence.”
“Yeah,” said Drew.
“Are kids even allowed to paint fences?”
“Yeah, kids are allowed to paint fences.”
“How old are you?”
“Eleven.”
“I just turned six.” As the boy talked, his eyes went up and down with each stroke of the brush.
Drew looked up at him again. “Were you just eating a fudgesicle?”
“Yeah, how’d you know that?” the boy asked, sounding shocked that Drew could be privy to such secret information.
“You have chocolate all over your face,” said Drew.
“Oh,” said the boy. “Hey, can I do that too?”
“Do what?”
“Paint. I never knowed kids were allowed to paint fences. Can I do it, too?”
“Wait, you mean you want to paint this fence?”
The boy shook his head up and down.
“Wouldn’t you rather go play or something?”
“I wanna play painting that fence. You get to do what grown-ups do. I wanna know what it’s like to be a grown-up. Don’t you?”
“I dunno. Wouldn’t you rather just do kid stuff, though?”
“I was. I was running around pretending I was a airplane. See, like this …” The boy stuck his arms straight out to his sides and glided around in a circle. “You ever been on a airplane?” he asked.
“Yeah, once,” said Drew.
“Wow, I wanna ride on a airplane someday. What was it like?”
“It was cool, I guess. It was a while ago. I was about your age, maybe a little younger. I flew to the beach with my parents …”
A brief pang of affection shot through Drew and quickly disappeared.
“It was weird because when we took off, my ears popped. It happens to some people on airplanes,” he continued.
The boy covered his ears with his hands. “I don’t want my ears to pop off.”
Drew laughed. “No, your ears don’t pop off.”
“My mom says airplanes go fast. How fast did yours go?” The boy no longer seemed worried about his ears popping off.
“I’m not sure,” said Drew, “but once you’re up in the air, it doesn’t even feel like you’re going fast at all.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“I bet we look like ants to people on airplanes,” the boy mused. “I hope I get to go on one someday. But now I just pretend I am one. Can I help you paint? I’ll do a good job. I’ll be careful, I promise. I watched you do it. I’ll do it the same way.”
Drew looked at the second paintbrush lying next to the paint can. What harm is there in letting the kid help if he wants to? Besides, I didn’t deserve this punishment anyway. And if he helps, we can be done before Mr. Kaminsky even gets home.
“All right, come on over. I got a brush for you and everything. By the way, what’s your name?”
“Trevor.”
“Okay, Trevor – wait, Trevor?”
“Uh huh.”
Drew nearly dropped his paintbrush. He suddenly found himself thinking about Trevor Lambert and the cheat sheet. He remembered the saying Trevor had told him: Every time you don’t get caught for something you did, you will get caught for something you didn’t do. I never got in trouble for planting that cheat sheet on Trevor, but then I got in trouble for breaking the window, even though it wasn’t even me. Drew remembered how free Trevor felt after serving his punishment.
“Can I have the other brush now?”
“Actually,” said Drew, “I’m gonna paint the fence myself. I kinda have to.”
Young Trevor’s head hung low.
“Okay,” he moped and returned to his side of the fence.
“You like pretending you’re an airplane, right?” Drew asked through the fence.
“Yeah, it’s fun.”
“Then you should go ahead and do that. It’ll be a lot more fun than painting this fence.”
“Okay,” said the boy. He stuck out his arms and resumed flying around his yard.
Each brush stroke on the fence was one step closer to finishing the job. Drew took a short break and backed away from the fence. He was just over the halfway mark.
“Looking good, look-ing good,” said Mr. Kaminsky as he approached the fence with a big bag in his hands. “What do you say I grab us some iced tea and you can take a break?”
After putting the bag in the house, Mr. Kaminsky reemerged with two glasses of iced tea.
“You always want to make sure you cover the paint can when you aren’t using it,” he said. “It gets funky when you let it sit.”
Drew nodded and covered the can. The two sat on the back porch and drank their iced tea silently. Just as Drew finished his drink and stood up to resume working, Mr. Kaminsky said, “You know I know you didn’t break that window, right?”
Every bit of color Drew’s face had gained under the morning sun disappeared at once.
“Listen, calm down. You’re not in trouble,” said Mr. Kaminsky. He motioned for Drew to sit.
Drew sat back down and remained silent. Has Mr. Kaminsky known all along?
The man leaned back in his chair and took another sip of iced tea. “Your story, it didn’t add up. You said you hit the ball through my window. But you didn’t have a bat with you. Where was the bat?” He turned the glass in his hand and looked at it for a moment. “In fact, you still had a glove on when I saw you.”
“It’s just I –”
“No, no.” Mr. Kaminsky motioned with his free hand for Drew to stop. He leaned forward and his voice took on a sterner tone. “No explanation necessary. I want you to know, it takes a man to stick up for his friends. And that’s admirable. But don’t lie to your mom, all right? She doesn’t deserve to be lied to.”
Drew nodded. Mr. Kaminsky leaned back in his chair and smiled. “I guess your friends pulled off a real hit-and-run,” he said, chuckling at his own joke.
Drew stared up at Mr. Kaminsky, who was just now finishing his iced tea. With his head tilted back and the sunlight reflecting off his glasses, he looked younger than before.
“This can be our secret, all right?”
“All right,” said Drew, standing up again.
“Oh, just get out of here. I’ll finish up,” said Mr. Kaminsky, slowly getting to his feet.
“No,” Drew said firmly. “I’ll finish this. This is my job.”
Mr. Kaminsky put his hands up as if to surrender. “Hey, no argument here.”
Drew returned to the fence and continued to paint in the brush stroke Mr. Kaminsky had taught him. The sun was bright, and as Drew felt its heat on his face, he thought of the warmth he felt while looking at the drawing in his book. It was incredible to him that the little drawing managed to evoke so much emotion.
The air swelled with springtime music: the birds were chirping, the bees were humming, and in the distance a lawnmower was roaring. Even the bristles of the paintbrush passing smoothly along the fence blended into the symphony. Drew still wanted to be at Tia’s party with Skylar and the rest of his friends; but he had to finish the job, and he did so with a smile on his face.