Puppy nodded gratefully. “We need the pavilion cleaned up, but without fixing it. Does that make sense?”
No more explanation was needed; they all knew their history.
“But some of this is simple wear and tear and neglect, and some inflicted by 10/12. We have to be really careful to walk that line. Like here.”
He tapped a necklace-like string of bullet holes just over Singh’s left shoulder. “We can’t fill that in.”
“But we can paint around?” Pigtails asked.
“Yes.”
The color was navy blue. Set us off like Gods, back when you could be, Mooshie had explained at breakfast as he gathered the ex-players’ ideas. The white was important. Stark. Make it sing, she insisted.
“Just there?’ Acne asked.
Puppy hopped off the ladder and walked the group to the Gate Six entrance. “From here to there,” he pointed halfway down the long hallway, leading them to the shuttered Gate Five.
“There?” A pale girl with deep blue eyes gestured across to the broken store.
“Not yet. Just the walls and wash the floors.” They all looked sadly at the cracked concrete.
“My father and I make plaques,” piped up a chubby boy in a flowered dress.
“I got the ropes,” added a girl with squinting, suspicious eyes.
“Great,” Puppy said.
“Food.” Frecklie flicked his hand at the three small silver carts near the entrance to the Amazon Clubhouse store. “The eating stations aren’t appetizing here in the hallway.”
“We can’t open up the stands inside. That’s too much,” Puppy said. “One area at a time.”
“No,” the boy shook his head stubbornly. “We’ll build something new.”
“I’m not sure we can.”
“Grandma said it’s about maintaining what happened. Adding on is fine as long as we don’t change anything.”
Everyone waited. Finally Puppy nodded, breaking out their smiles. He wagged a warning finger. Careful.
Puppy led them inside, trailed by uneasy murmurs. Some of the kids peered under the seats, while a few wandered down the rows. Frecklie clapped his hands once and the DVs snapped back obediently. He nodded for Puppy to continue.
He lifted up a seat, which twisted half off with a rickety groan. Three hands shot up confidently.
Just fix behind home. A better background helps us pick up the balls, Mickey had said, forcing down the black coffee with a longing look for one shot of anything with proof on the bottle. If they were restoring his Yankee Stadium, he’d go on the wagon.
“Navy blue,” Puppy repeated, taking them down to the railing. Frecklie readily hopped over; the rest of the kids held back, shrinking a little. As children, they’d been terrorized by parents and teachers that the demons and ghosts living in Amazon Stadium would get them if they didn’t study hard. Maybe some of them hadn’t studied hard.
Embarrassed, Frecklie angrily pulled the gate open for the faint-hearted. He waited impatiently as the DVs warily shuffled forward, clustering by the fence in case one of those eight-foot, fire-breathing demons swooped down.
Puppy knelt and pulled up the brown weeds. “This too.”
More murmurs.
“I want it green. But we can’t remove anything down there.”
To reassure the uneasy kids, Frecklie rummaged in the grass and pulled up a bullet.
“Old. Useless. Can’t hurt you.” He went around shoving the bullet under each of their noses; a few sniffed.
Puppy flipped a bone from hand to hand. Eyes nearly popped out of heads. “Leave these alone, too.” He didn’t need to repeat that. “Who knows about gardening?”
All fifteen kids raised their hands. Puppy and Frecklie exchanged proud smiles.
• • • •
PABLO RE-CLIPPED THE dental bib around Ja’mal’s neck with an apologetic shake of his head.
“Sorry, Mrs. D’Hedri,” he said to the twelve-year-old’s stout, stern mother standing in the corner of the office. “I can’t find a good dental hygienist. I’ve gone through three of them.”
“Wouldn’t seem to be hard. It’s a good job.” She indicated the problem clearly began with Pablo.
“If you know anyone…”
“I’ve got enough on my mind with this boy.” Mrs. D’Hedri had the warmth of Pablo’s drill. “Chewing all night. Headaches. Grades have dropped.”
Ja’mal considered whether he could escape down the spit sink.
“Let’s see…”
“Seeing isn’t enough.” She joined Pablo in studying her son’s open mouth. “Finding out’s what I need.”
Pablo cleared his throat. “Mrs. D’Hedri, I believe there’s only room for one of us in Ja’mal’s mouth.”
“Why? It’s big enough for him to talk back.”
Ja’mal silently pleaded with Pablo to save him.
“I think it’s best if I examine Ja’mal alone.”
“You’re not going to plot anything like he does with his father?” She poked Ja’mal in the ear.
“I’ll report any subversive conversations.”
Pablo kept a straight face and escorted the scowling mother out of the door; she promised to take a seat nearby. Ja’mal smiled gratefully.
“Okay, man. You were a champion smile-o-meter on your last visit.” Pablo studied this morning’s results with grave disappointment. “What’s up?”
Ja’mal sighed. “Too much external pressure.”
Pablo was slightly taken aback by Ja’mal’s mature response. “In what way?”
“The Academy tests are coming up.”
“Why didn’t your Mom mention that? Those are brutal.”
“You’ve taken them?”
Pablo shook his head. “I didn’t grow up a Reg.”
Ja’mal turned curiously in his chair, big liquidy eyes undulating. “DV, huh?”
He cleared his throat. “Let’s stay on you. When’s the tests?”
“There are always tests.”
“Ja’mal, tests are specifically structured….”
“Not for the Academy.” The boy’s voice broke over referencing the main Reg test to determine career strengths and possibilities. And limitations. “It never stops. Prepare, study. I want to be a doctor. Not a dentist, but a real doctor who saves lives.”
“I do my part,” Pablo snapped.
“I didn’t mean to offend you, Dr. Diaz.”
“Of course you didn’t.”
“But I’m scared.”
Pablo patted the boy’s shoulder. “Everyone’s scared. Your whole life’s ahead and you’re worried one test could determine success or failure.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” Ja’mal started climbing out of the chair.
“No. It’s supposed to help you deal.”
“How can I deal if I’m too scared? If I don’t pass, my parents will blame me.”
“They always do,” he said. “You have to tell your Mom you’re worried.”
“You think she’s the type you can talk to?”
Pablo nodded sympathetically. “Would you like me to?”
“But
