We went back to Mom’s at four o’clock. Dad spent the hour before checking his watch, but even Wills was quiet on the way back. Mom came to the door looking pleased to see us and asked how we’d been. Wills charged into the house and demanded something to eat, Dad did the quick peck-on-the-cheek thing to Mom, and I wished he’d come in and sat down and told me it had all been a bad dream.
Chapter Nine
It’s supposed to be better at home, that’s what Dad said. That’s why he went, so Mom wouldn’t have to put up with Hurricane versus Volcano.
It’s not better. It’s worse. FAR WORSE. Mom can’t handle Wills on her own, not now that he’s acting up because of Dad going. Even if Dad does lose his temper with him and shout and rage, Wills does sort of do what he’s told—eventually. With Mom he only does what he’s told when he’s upset her so much that he’s sorry. Then we get the soppy I-can’t-help-it excuse, which makes me mad because even if he is sorry, it won’t stop him doing it again and again and again.
Mom hasn’t got the no-basketball threat like Dad has. She says they can’t both use it, and anyway she needs her Sunday mornings to catch up on things. I go to the library all the time. Penny says I might as well move my bed in there, and I think how peaceful that would be. When there’s nobody else around, she brings me cookies and tea while I do my homework.
“No one else gets this sort of service,” she says.
“No one else deserves it,” I grin.
Jack came in once. He crept up behind me and put his hands over my eyes. I nearly had a heart attack because I thought it was Wills, and that my secret hiding place was gone forever. As soon as Penny realized he was a friend, she gave him tea and cookies as well. I told him he was lucky because she didn’t do that for her other regulars, only me. Jack was so impressed that he came again, for the cookies, not for the books or to do his homework. Jack’s one of those annoying kids who always do well even though they don’t seem to do any work.
“It’s cool, isn’t it,” he chuckled, “being served tea and cookies by some fancy broad.”
“Don’t call her that. Penny’s my friend,” I growled.
“If she brings chocolate cookies instead of these plain ones, she can be my friend as well. Shall I ask her?” He took a step in her direction.
“No!” I hissed. “Just don’t mess things up for me, will you? I have enough of that with Wills.”
“All right, keep your hair on. I was only joking. Anyway, how come Wills hasn’t found out you come here?”
“Because he hasn’t, and because he won’t, unless someone tells him.”
“I won’t spill the beans,” said Jack, “especially if you ask that Penny for chocolate cookies.”
I kicked him under the table. “Go away, pest, and let me get on with my homework.”
“See you down the scrap yard later, then? Some of us are going to kick a ball around.”
“Maybe,” I said, and wondered if Mom would mind. Since Dad had left, I’d hardly been down there because I felt I should be home to help her.
He stood up and waved to Penny, who gave him a big smile and waved back. “Don’t forget the chocolate cookies,” he grinned at me, and scooted off as I aimed a second kick and smacked my shin against the table leg.
I did go to the scrap yard. The scrap part isn’t there anymore. There’s just this enormous concrete area where trucks used to come and dump piles of metal junk, until people complained that it was an eyesore and they didn’t want the noise all day and all night. It’s still an eyesore, because the scrap merchant’s building is falling down, and you can’t go in there because it’s dangerous, but the yard is great for soccer and skateboarding, and there’s nowhere else to go.
Jack and six other boys were already playing when I arrived. Ollie and Sam are in my class at school, but I hadn’t seen the others before. Jack called me on to his team with Ollie and Sam, and I was glad because I didn’t want to be with the boys I didn’t know.
“You dragged yourself away from your tea and cookies, then,” he smirked as I jogged in to join them. “You’re turning into a little old grandpa.”
“I didn’t see you turning them down, hypocrite,” I hit back with.
“The best place for a grandpa is in the goal,” he snickered.
I ignored him and ran into a central position. Almost right away I intercepted a pass from Ollie that was intended for Jack, and began to run with the ball.
“Pass it on to me,” Jack yelled. I ignored him again. I was enjoying myself. I was enjoying the freedom of running and not caring.
“Pass it!” yelled Jack again.
I didn’t. I dodged around two of the players on the other team, and headed for the goal. There was only one of their players left to beat now. He stood in between the two goal posts, fidgeting from side to side, betting I couldn’t get the ball past him.
I lined myself up and took the most almighty swipe at the ball—POW! Everything seemed to go into slow motion then, like it does on the television when they do a replay to show exactly what happened. The ball flew toward the net, I held my breath, the goalie dived, the goalie missed, the ball went through his arms and past
