I can hear them. It’s like I’m right there.
I probably know who just scored. The sound of laughter echoes through the woods. When Duncan and I round the bend in the path, Ian is sliding belly-up on the ice. He skids smack into the goalie, puck and all.
“And he scores!” Ian yells.
“Nice one!” I shout in his direction.
“Oweee, nice one,” Duncan mimics in a low voice.
Ian stands up and brushes the snow off his pants. “Hey! Can you play today?” he hollers.
“No,” I yell back. “Mom’s got a long shift.” This is my standard answer now. Even when she isn’t at work, I still have to say that.
It kills me. I want to skate with Ian and the guys like I used to.
Ian skates over to the side of the pond. “That’s a drag!”
“Tell me about it,” I say.
Duncan starts walking in circles with his fist in his mouth. I roll my eyes at Ian and then say to Duncan, “We’re going in a second! Do you really have to do that?”
Duncan ignores me.
“Can’t you work something out?” Ian whispers. “He could hang out here while we skate.”
“I wish,” I say. “Look at him.”
Duncan is now crouched down, eating snow.
“Well, you gotta play next Friday, Max,” says Ian. “We’ve got a game with the Red Eagles. I don’t want to play against Cody without you.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Ian glances back at the guys on the ice. “Okay, I better go. See ya…” He zooms across the pond and steals the puck.
I smile to myself as I pretend I’m on the ice. Then I turn toward Duncan.
“Would you stop eating the snow. For all you know, a dog could have peed on it.”
Duncan puts his face closer to the snow. “Nope, no dog pee.” He eats another handful.
“I give up. Come on, let’s go home.” With one last look back at the pond, I lead the way along the path. The sounds of the skates scratching the ice and the shouts from the guys repeat in my head long after we’re out of earshot.
“I’m hungry,” Duncan says.
“You should have eaten more snow,” I say underneath my breath.
The smell of smoke from Mr. Cooper’s fireplace means we’re almost home. It signals food to Duncan and reminds me of the days when Mom was in the kitchen watching soaps on tv while she made us a snack.
All that changed when Dad died. Dads aren’t supposed to die before their kids are grown up. But mine did.
Some days it feels like my mom did too.
As I open the door, Mouse gets up from his sunny spot in the kitchen. He stretches and walks over to us. He rubs up against Duncan’s legs and then mine.
“Hi, Mouse,” Duncan says. He reaches down to pat him. Mouse purrs loudly. Duncan hangs his coat on his hook and places his boots so that the toes touch the wall. He then straightens all the shoes into a perfect straight line.
I dump my coat on the chair and throw my hat like a Frisbee. “Yes!” I say when it lands on the hook. Usually it takes me a couple of tries.
“I’m hungry,” Duncan says.
I’m staring into the fridge, trying to figure out how I can play hockey. I hear Duncan, but I’m too busy thinking to answer.
“I’m hungry!” Duncan wails.
The sound of something landing on the floor with a thud startles me. I slam the fridge door. Duncan is on his hands and knees like he is praying.
Sighing, I squat down beside him. “Do you really have to do that?”
He doesn’t answer. He keeps talking about how his superpowers aren’t working because he’s so hungry.
“Duncan!” I say in a louder voice.
“Yeah?” he finally says.
“I’ll get you something to eat, okay?”
“Okay.” Duncan sits up and looks at me with his big brown eyes. “I’m hungry,” he whimpers.
“I know you are.” I hold out my hand and help him stand up. “Let me guess. Macaroni and cheese?”
Duncan smiles.
“At least you’re predictable.”
“I’m not predictable! I’m, I’m Batman. And, and, you’re Robin,” he says in a low voice.
“Whatever you say.”
On Saturday morning the usual crowd is coming in and out of Bucky Dwayne’s All-In-One Store. “Duncan, hurry up!” Three people slip through the door before he catches up to me.
Inside, I pull out the list Mom gave me before she crawled back into bed. I hate it when she works the night shift, because Duncan has to go everywhere with me so she can sleep. Saturday is the worst day to come to Bucky Dwayne’s, especially with Duncan.
“Stop touching everything!” I yank him by the arm and pull him closer. “Let me look at the list for a minute, would ya?”
Duncan starts whispering into his hand. “Batman…Batman, you there?”
“Oh, don’t start, please,” I say.
“I’m here, Robin,” he says in a deeper voice.
“Keep it down!” I hiss. I can feel people staring. “Here, you push the cart. Pretend it’s the Batmobile.”
Duncan smiles, then speaks into his hand, “We’re leaving the Batcave. Hold on.”
He makes a weird swishing noise to go along with the movement of the cart. I walk in front of him, trying to tune out his noises. Duncan follows me through the aisles, bumping into things every once in a while.
Just as we turn into the third aisle, he rams the cart into my heels. “Oww!” I yell. “Would you watch it!”
“You stopped.”
“Let me push the cart past this crazy lineup,” I say. I wonder what’s going on. Then I notice the sign that reads, Sidney Crosby will be signing autographs today until noon.
I think about joining the line. But when Duncan’s whispers turn into a loud argument between Batman and the Joker, I know we can’t do it. I shove the cart toward the lightbulb section.
“Hey, Max!”
I turn around. Ian is almost at the front of the line. “Can you believe it?” He pulls a puck from his pocket. “I’m going to get it signed.”
“Cool…”
“Have you talked to your mom about playing yet?”
“Not yet,” I say. “I keep waiting for the right moment, but it never seems to come.”
“Just ask her, would ya!” Ian jabs me in the arm. “Hey, I’ll get something signed for you if you want.”
I dig into my pocket and pull out the money Mom gave me and a ten-dollar bill from shoveling Mr. Cooper’s driveway. “I don’t have anything.”
The line starts moving. “Okay, man. I’ll see if he has a flyer or something.”
“Thanks.” I turn to make sure Duncan isn’t getting into anything. A sick feeling makes my stomach lurch.
He’s gone.