“Well, he’d better be too scared to come back into this gym,” Clingon growled, “because if I get my hands on him he’ll learn a new meaning for slam dunk.”
I sat down on the bench and saw Dad come back shaking his head. After a quick word with Mom, he strode off in the direction of the entrance to the community center. We were already ten points down by then. Clingon told me he was putting me in. I didn’t want to go in. Not without Wills there. This was his big day, and he’d blown it, and I felt sorry for him. And then I felt angry. So angry. This was my day as well and Wills was wrecking it. Dad wasn’t there to watch me because of Wills, because of Wills and his stupid Acts Dumb and Dumber. I wanted so badly for Dad to be there with Mom, but instead he was rushing around trying to find Wills.
“Will you get in there now!” Clingon shouted at me. “It’s enough that one of you can’t do as you’re told.”
In my dreams, I would have been the hero of the hour. We would have been losing and I would have taken the game by the scruff of its neck and turned it around. I would have been lifted high in the air, and everyone would have cheered until they were hoarse. But this was no dream. This was a nightmare. I went on the court and was useless. An embarrassment. I could see Mom trying to be all proud and cheering when I managed to make my first interception, but she kept looking around to see if she could see Dad and Wills. Gradually she slumped back in her seat, as my fingers turned to butter and my feet fought each other to play on the left. Then Dad reappeared, on his own. Clingon was patient and encouraging to begin with, but it was a relief for everyone when at last he sent me back to the bench, with the game already dead and buried, and me as well.
There was a break before our next game. Clingon let me go and talk to Mom and Dad. I couldn’t help it, but I started crying when I sat with them. I felt like I’d let everyone down. Mom said she was proud of me and that she’d seen me do lots of good things. I said I was upset about Wills, not just because I’d played like a fairy. Dad said that I was to stop worrying about Wills and that it was Wills’s choice to run away. He should have stayed and faced his fears like everyone else, because everyone else would have been nervous too. Mom said Dad was being unfair. Wills had a lot to deal with, what with his Acts Dumb and Dumber and everyone expecting more of him because he was big for his age. Dad said she shouldn’t always make excuses for him. Mom began to get upset because she said that he had a good heart but his head sometimes told him to do the wrong thing. Some people behind us told us to shush because they were trying to watch the game, and I thought Dad was going to say something rude to them. Instead he said I should go back and get ready for our next game, and that they would worry about Wills later.
“Go on, Chris, get out there and show them who’s who,” Dad urged.
I said I’d try, but I didn’t really feel like it and I didn’t think Clingon would let me near the court again. Clingon took me aside for a talk and told me to forget about Wills and concentrate on my own game, otherwise I would be sitting on the bench for the rest of the afternoon.
I did play better in our next game, when Clingon eventually put me in, but I wasn’t great and the team missed Wills’s strength. We lost again, and only managed to scrape a narrow win in our final game. That meant that we didn’t go through to the semi-finals, and I had to sit there and listen while the other boys bad-mouthed Wills for letting them down. Clingon didn’t say much, but I could tell he was annoyed and I guessed that he wouldn’t exactly welcome Wills or me to his next Sunday session.
Mom and Dad came over to console me and to apologize to Clingon for Wills’s vanishing act. We headed off home then, me on my own in the back seat, Mom and Dad in front, just like old times except that we didn’t know where Wills was, and Mom and Dad weren’t really talking to each other because Mom thought Dad was too hard on Wills and Dad thought Mom was too soft. We were all sure that Wills would be at home sulking when we got there. He wasn’t though. The house was empty and there was no sign that Wills had been back and gone out again. Dad hovered on the doorstep, looking uncomfortable. Mom told him to come in, and she would put the kettle on.
“He’s always going off for hours on end,” she said, but I could tell she was anxious.
“Do you want me to wait with you until he comes back?” Dad asked, as we sat at the kitchen table.
Mom nodded, but after he had finished his cup of tea he stood up and said he was going to have a look around. Mom began to busy herself with preparing food, and I went to see the soccer results on the television. I was tired and fed up. Our big day had been a big disaster. Not just on the basketball court. I realized that, like Wills, I had been harboring a tiny hope that Mom and Dad might just get together again as they shared the
