CHAPTER EIGHT SAM

"You go to Best Buddies, like I say?" My mother put a plate of food in front of me. Today it was a chicken stir fry, a meal I used to like to eat on game days. Why had she made me this? Just another reminder of what I wasn't anymore. Everything I used to like, I didn't seem to like anymore. The food in front of me looked so unappetizing: wilting broccoli, sorry-looking peppers, mushy tomatoes. I pushed the plate away from me.

"I told you," I said. "I just don't want to do the program. I don't want to do anything, okay? Why do you keep bugging me about this? About everything. All the time."

"I worry."

"Don't."

"That boy, he like you. Look up to you." She pointed to my plate. "You don't like my cooking no more? This your favourite."

"Used to be my favourite," I said. "I liked this meal when I played basketball." I paused but only for a second. "And for the record, he looked up to me when I was on the team."

She put her hand on my shoulder. "Non-sense. He look up to you because you nice to him. Not just for basketball."

I slouched in my seat. I didn't want to hear about how I was letting Stuart down.

She pointed to my plate. "Food still important. Your heart need food."

I pulled the plate back toward me. I forked a piece of chicken and put it in my mouth. Food had always been something I'd devoured. My mother made meals, and I'd piled my plate and eaten. It was kind of our thing, a bond. I thought about how Stuart would laugh at me when I ate two sandwiches to his one at lunch. Mine were always amazing too.

After I finished chewing, I said, "By the way, I ate lunch with Stuart twice this week."

She turned to me, the concerned look in her eyes replaced with softness. "Oh, that good." She smiled at me. "He like you. You good for him. He be good for you too, you know. He teach you to be happy to be you. It not like he have easy life either."

I sighed, exhaling stale air from my chest. Oh man, she always called it like it was. Stuart was happy with who he was. Why shouldn't he be? And look at Madeline from Best Buddies. She fell off her bike when she was eight and damaged her brain, and she was dealing with that. Why was this all so hard for me? Sports had been my life. Competition had fueled me. But…but I needed to move on. I guess I just didn't know how.

"I hate that I can't do anything anymore."

"That not what doctor say." She sat down across from me. "He say you play that other way."

"I'm not a recreational athlete." I put my fork on the table and stood up. "I think I'll go to my room."

In my room, I flopped on my bed. I had fully expected my mother to follow me, but she didn't, so I just lay there and stared at the ceiling. As of late, this was all I wanted to do. Which equated to a big fat nothing. The ceiling of my room was white: that's it, that's all. White. Boring, old white. Yet, I stared at it for hours.

Inside my pocket, my phone buzzed. I ignored it. I didn't really care who was texting me. What difference would it make anyway? I wasn't going anywhere tonight. All I wanted to do was stay on my bed and sleep.

Sometimes I went to bed at 8:00. 8:00? No lie.

My phone buzzed again. Then it rang. And I knew who it was. I decided to answer it because Cecil wasn't going away.

"Hel-lo," I said, slowly.

"Hey, Soko. Where'd you go after school?"

"Home," I answered.

"I thought we were going to meet up for a few."

"You had track and field."

"Yeah. But we coulda—"

"I had homework to do." It took everything in me to ask the next question, but I did. "How was practice?"

I could hear him sigh through the phone. "What am I supposed to say, man? I know you don't want to hear this, but it was good. Honest answer."

Now it was my turn to sigh. "Sorry, Cec. It's just so hard not to do anything."

"I hear ya." He paused. The silence lingered on the phone.

He spoke first. "You, uh, decide on school yet? I wouldn't count U of A out."

"Not happening. Not if I'm not playing. It'll kill me."

"Okay. Okay. Understand, my bro. Let's talk tomorrow night," he said. "Seven. I'll pick you up."

"I'm, uh, not going."

"You're coming. I'm making ya. You're our captain."

"I wasn't that last game. You were."

"One game. That's it, that's all. Come on, Soko. It'll be good."

"Nothing is good for me. Nothing."

"Seven. Not an option."

The next evening, at Cecil's insistence, I got dressed. Elma came home just as I was coming down the stairs, and I was dressed in jeans and a shirt and had my hair gelled. Why was she here again? She had her own apartment but lately, since I'd come home from hospital, it was like she'd moved back in.

"You're here again," I said.

"Just popped by," she answered, trying to be flippant.

"Did mom send you to check up on me?" I rolled my eyes. "The nurse come to check on her little patient. Look, I'm dressed. I'm going out, okay? You can go back to your own life now. Anyway, you're a nurse not a psychologist."

"Wow. Some homecoming I get."

"I'm fine."

She looked me up and down. "Where are you going? Got a hot date?"

"Team party," I mumbled.

"Oh, sounds like fun. Be good for you."

"Whatever." I could feel my shoulders sagging.

I heard her step toward me, and I put my hands on the counter and lowered my head. She put her arm around my shoulder but didn't say a word. My body felt numb, and I didn't want to cry. Seriously. After the one breakdown in front of my parents, I'd cried at least twice more. Elma could do this to me. Make me all emotional. God, I hated this.

I pulled away from her slightly, took a glass out of the cupboard and poured some orange juice. She squeezed my shoulder before she took a step back.

"You need a ride?" she asked.

Feeling more composed, I turned to face her, glass in hand. "Nah," I said. "Cecil's picking me up."

"That's good. Have some fun tonight, would you? For me." She gave me a cheesy smile.

It actually made me smile, a little anyways. "Thanks," I said. "I'll try." Cecil and I didn't talk much on the way to the party. I wasn't exactly in a talkative mood. When we got to Smitty's, the party had already started.

Music blared and kids leaned against the deck railing, drinking from red plastic cups.

Smitty's house was twice the size of mine, and the deck wrapped around two sides. He had a big pool in the back and a yard that sat on something like an acre of land. His parents loved it when he had friends over and we'd had a few team parties here. The red cups were a familiar sight but walking into this party tonight, with a heart issue, made me nervous. Tonight, was my first night out. Sweat was already beading under my pits and on my forehead.

Inside the house, Smitty saw us and came right over. "So good to see you, Soko." He tossed his black braids and grinned. After Cecil had got his hair braided, Smitty had done exactly the same thing.

I slapped his hand and we did a bro-like hug. Then he said, "Kitchen, dudes."

Cecil and I weaved through bodies and into the kitchen, which had a huge island with at least ten stools. Big windows showcased the pool patio. The doors were open and sure enough there was a white tent put up, just past the pool. Amplifiers and guitars and microphones were already set up.

Epic. That's what tonight was going to be.

Ging, Angelo, and a few of the other guys were leaning against the kitchen counter and talking. Cecil walked over to them and I followed.

"What's up?" Cecil slapped everyone's hands. I slapped everyone's hands too but with far less enthusiasm.

"We were just talking about the game the other night," said Angelo. "Oh man, the Raptors killed it." He thumped his chest with his fist. "My team is hot. Plus, I got three of them in my pool."

I didn't say anything because I didn't see the game. I'd not watched it on purpose. My dad had though. I'd heard it but stayed in my room, trying to muffle the sound. And I'd let my basketball pool slide, not bothering to see if I was winning anything. I'd been avoiding TSN, Sportsnet, and any other sports channel.

"I still think they'll get killed by Cleveland in the playoffs," said Angelo.

The conversation continued and continued, going from basketball to golf to hockey and back to basketball. I probably didn't say more than a few words. If that. I used to love NBA basketball. I used to love all sports and knew the stats like these guys did. A feeling of sadness flowed through me and my shoulders sagged, my body feeling heavy. I looked to the floor. The conversation went round and round.

Fortunately, Smitty shouted out that the band was starting outside so we should all hit the patio deck. The band was made up of some friends of his brother. They were a local country band and they liked to say they were "up-and-coming." The patio was lit with little lights and looked sort of surreal to me.

The band started and everyone listened to the music at first and then the dancing started. I had drifted off to stand by myself for a few seconds when I smelled flowers or perfume. Suddenly, Ginny, the girl who had been texting me, stood beside me. Known as one of the best-looking girls in the school, her blonde hair hung way past her shoulders, and the jeans and sweater she wore looked darn good on her. But…for me something wasn't right. Was I crazy? All the guys would think so.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," I said back.

"You wanna dance?" She smiled, dazzling me.

"Um, I'm okay," I said.

"Okay," she said, looking at the ground.

Awkward silence circled us. Now I felt bad. What a jerk. Finally, I said, "Great party. Smitty went all out."

She lifted her head and smiled at me again. "It'll be the talk of the school year," she said. "Well, except grad."

"Yeah," I said. I didn't want to talk about grad. Or next year. Was she hoping I would ask her right here? I didn't even know her that well. She was new to our school this year, but had done a good job of inserting herself into the popular crowd.

She grinned, a little glint in her eyes. "I'm going to the same school as you next year. I just got my acceptance. I'll be able to watch all your basketball games. You and Cecil." She did a little dance with her shoulders. "I'm so excited!"

"Um," I started. Better to get it over with. "I'm not—I'm not going there anymore."

She stared at me, her eyes wide. "You're not?"

I shook my head. "B-ball is out of for me so it's not my best option for a school."

"You can't play anymore?" She seemed genuinely shocked. But then again, the only people I'd told were Cecil and the guys, well, and Stuart, but she probably didn't even know he existed.

"That sucks," she said, and I heard the disappointment in her voice.

I guess I wasn't what she wanted after all.

"Look, I gotta hit the can," I said. "Talk later."

With my head lowered, I started to weave my way through bodies to head back into the house so I could look for the nearest exit. Cecil saw me and gestured for me to come over to him, but I waved vaguely toward the house. I didn't want to do this anymore, fake enjoyment at being at the party. The kitchen patio door was wide open. I was heading toward it when I felt someone grab my arm.

"Don't go, man. It's our celebration." Cecil pulled me toward him in a brotherly hug. "You missed one game, dude. One game."

"It's not that. If it was just the guys, I'd be okay. But I can't stay," I said. "I just can't."

He cocked his head and looked at me. The he placed his hand on my shoulder. "You okay? I'm worried about you."

I shook my head. "I gotta get outta here."

"You want me to find someone to drive you?"

"Nah. I'll walk. Don't worry about me."

"But I do. You're my wing man." He hugged me hard.

Tears pricked my eyes. What a loser. Now, I really had to leave. "I gotta go," I mumbled. I quickly moved through the kitchen and down the hall to the front door.

The house was fairly empty except for the couples who decided to make out in the corners. No one noticed me as I passed through, heading to the front door. It was like I'd suddenly become invisible.

Once outside I breathed in a huge gulp of air. I honestly felt like I was almost hyperventilating. My breath seemed to be so deep inside of me and I couldn't get at it. I inhaled and exhaled, holding my hand to my heart, trying to feel it. Was it still there? I had never given much thought to my heart. It was so weird to think I had something inside of me that was helping me tick, keeping me alive. It was like my heart was fake.

Finally, I blew out a huge breath of air and stood up straight. I only had about two kilometres to get to my home. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I started to head down the street.

I had only gone three blocks when my phone buzzed. Thinking it was Cecil, I pulled it out of my pocket. But it was Stuart. Poor kid. I'd bailed on him. Oh well, he'd figure it out. I'm sure Best Buddies could hook him up with someone else. I ignored the text and stuffed my phone back in my pocket.