A Long Pitch Home (15 page)

As promised, Jalaal meets me back in the same spot five minutes later. We check out the cricket book, and Jalaal gets me my own library card. I sign the back, slip it into my pocket, and smile all the way out to the car.

I flip through the pages of
Learn to Play Cricket
. It will feel good to wear my uniform again, even if it's not for a match. I can't wait for Halloween.

On Monday everyone boards the bus clutching their Halloween costume bags. Most people are keeping their costumes a secret, but Akash tells me he's going as Harry Potter. I peek at the white cricket uniform in my trash bag. Maybe I should have dressed like Harry Potter, too. I've read all the books in Urdu, and people would at least know who I am.

During morning meeting, Mrs. Wu holds her own bag on her lap—a huge, black trash bag. Whatever's inside is long and has lumps. “Okay, a few reminders about today.” She smiles. “I know it's Halloween, and you've all got candy on the brain.”

Everyone laughs, and it feels good to understand her joke. “But before the parade this afternoon, we still need to focus on things like math, science, language arts, and social studies.” Tristan shudders. “Scary,” he says, and even Mrs. Wu laughs.

“Instead of our usual morning greeting, I want everyone to think of one clue about your costume or about the book it's related to. I'll begin.”

Mrs. Wu pulls her bag closer and props her elbows on top. “My favorite book”—Mrs. Wu pats the bag with a solid thump—“showed me that sometimes the things we run away from are the very things we need most.”

I am relieved to see that the other kids look as confused as I am.

“Okay, who would like to go next?”

I think of what I'll say about my book—one I've never read—as the others give their clues.

“This is
some
book!”

“Mine's a diary—maybe dorky, maybe wimpy. You'll find out at the parade.”

“The title of my favorite book could be worn as a necklace.”

“You won't guess mine unless you follow the rules.”

“Mine is super hard to guess.”

With each clue some people look confused and others look thoughtful; I look confused for each and every one. My turn is next, and I am clueless. This means I do not have a clue about what clue to give.

“Bilal?” Mrs. Wu smiles, and nods at my bag.

I swallow. “My book . . . ,” I begin, and then stop. My book, what? Is a book I've never read? Is full of information I already know? I glance at Jordan, who's got a look on her face that says, “Well? What is it?”

Then I have an idea. “My book is not about a bug.”

Mrs. Wu waits, like she's thinking that maybe I'll say more, but I don't. That's my clue. I'm no longer clueless.

I don't listen to the next clues, because I know I won't know these books. I should ask Mr. Jacobs how I can hurry up and learn enough English to read the same books everyone else can read.

I do pay attention when it's Jordan's turn. She holds up a brown paper lunch bag, and I wonder what kind of costume could fit inside a bag so small. She looks down, running her fingers along the creased top of the bag.Then she looks up and says, “Yes, and . . .”

And that's it.

Everyone looks confused except for Mrs. Wu, who says, “I'm glad you're enjoying that one, Jordan.”

Jordan nods without looking up from her bag.

The rest of the morning flies by. The best part of the day is when we open real pumpkins for math. We work in groups of four, estimating weight, circumference, and the number of seeds inside the pumpkin. I say our pumpkin must weigh about five hundred grams, but no one in my group seems to know what that means. As it turns out, our pumpkin weighs fifteen ounces, and I don't understand what that means. But Mrs. Wu says I'll come in handy when we talk about the metric system. Coming in handy sounds like a nice thing to be.

Finally we change into our costumes and gather in a circle around our desks. Kids hold up their books, and people say things like, “Oh!
Charlotte's Web
!” and “
Dork Diaries
—I knew it!” and “
Amulet
!” and “I love
Rules
!” I don't know any of these books. Well, okay, except for Lucas's book about some superheroes that I've seen before on TV.

José looks at my V-necked sweater vest. He points to the small crest and says, “What are you supposed to be—a kid at some private school?”

Before I can answer, Mrs. Wu holds up her hand for quiet.

Mrs. Wu has changed into a denim dress with tights and sneakers and a jacket. She's holding a violin case and a book with a cover that reads
From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler
. I don't even understand what the title means, so this book is probably too hard for me anyway. She explains she is dressed like the main character in the story, some girl named Claudia who runs away from home and goes to live in a museum, all because her parents don't appreciate her. It sounds like maybe Claudia missed her parents even though they all lived in the same house in the same city in the same country.

Jordan is dressed in normal clothes—jeans and a T-shirt with a picture of a yellow bow across the front. She spins a roll of masking tape around her wrist like a bracelet. For her turn, she says, “Mrs. Wu recommended this book. It's called
Operation Yes
by Sara Lewis Holmes, and it's about kids on a military base who are waiting for their parents to come back from being deployed.” Jordan holds up her wrist to show the masking tape. “Their teacher is Miss Loupe, who tapes a space on the floor, and the kids have to improvise different situations. When they think up one thing, Miss Loupe always says, ‘Yes, and . . . ,' and they have to keep adding on ideas.”

I guess that explains why Jordan's clue this morning was “Yes, and . . . ,” but I still have no idea what Jordan's book is about. What does
improvise
mean? Why would a teacher put tape on the floor?

My head hurts thinking of all these books I can't read yet. And then it's my turn.

I hold up
Learn to Play Cricket
.

Everyone is silent as they peer at the cover and then at my uniform.

I clear my throat. “My clue was that my book is not about a bug.”

Mrs. Wu nods. “That was a good clue, Bilal.”

“So what are you, then?” Teah asks.

I point to my book's cover. “This.”

Half the class laughs, and I remember now that my book's cover does not have a picture of a player, just a ball.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” Mrs. Wu's voice carries a warning.

I swallow. “In Pakistan I play cricket.”

Mrs. Wu smiles. “And that handsome uniform must be your team uniform.”

There are no snickers this time, but I can tell Jackson wants to laugh by the way he's gnawing on his lip. I wish Mrs. Wu hadn't said “handsome.”

“Yes, this is my team uniform. But in America now I play baseball.”

Dylan raises his hand but doesn't wait for Mrs. Wu to call on him. “How do you play cricket?”

“It has many rules,” I say, because where would I even begin? I hold up my book. “You can read to know the rules.” I smile.

Dylan shrugs like he has already decided he is not going to learn about cricket.

Someone else says, “Man, those are some tall shin guards.” No one laughs, but I see the nudges and grins and whispering lips. I look at my leg guards sticking up past my knees. Tall? Tall compared to what? We don't wear shin guards in baseball, so I don't know what other kind there is. I'm already outgrowing these pads from last year, so I'll need a bigger size this season. Or I would have, if we'd stayed in Pakistan.

Madi raises her hand. “I've seen cricket.” She holds up her book, called
Doctor Who: Character Encyclopedia
. “I saw it on
Doctor Who
this one time.”

A few kids nod, like Madi's statement now proves cricket really is a game and not something I made up.

The rest of the kids say what their costumes are, but I'm not listening. I'm wishing I could change out of this uniform that everyone thinks is weird. The parade isn't much better. Everyone in the entire school sits outside on the grass. Classes take turns parading around in a circle so everyone can see their books and their costumes. When our class's turn comes, kids peer at my book, trying to figure out what I am. The only person who doesn't look at me like I'm some alien is Mr. Jacobs. He gives me a high five as I walk by and says, “Cricket, huh? Nice, Bilal!”

But it's not nice—it's different.

The worst part is there's no time to change before the buses arrive, so I have to ride home in my uniform. Why does it have to be white and so bright? I don't know if people are still staring at me or not, because I lean my head against the window and watch the houses stream by all the way to my stop.

When I get off the bus, Jordan is waiting for me on the sidewalk.

“I like your costume.” She falls into step beside me.

“Thank you.” I glance over to see if she's making fun of me.

She shrugs. “It's unique. No one else had on a cricket uniform.”

“I know.” I sigh. “Only me.”

“That's what makes it cool.”

She is not making fun of me after all. I always thought Jordan hated being the only girl on our baseball team, but maybe she doesn't mind being different; maybe
different
is just a part of who she is.

I still don't know what her costume is supposed to be, so I make a guess. “Are you a present?”

Jordan looks at me funny. “A present?”

I point to the roll of masking tape around her wrist. “The tape is maybe for the wrapping paper? And the bow on your T-shirt?”

She grins. “The tape is something the characters use in the book—they act things out in this space that their teacher tapes on the floor.”

I nod; Jordan already said this in class. But I still do not understand.

Jordan points to her shirt. “People tie yellow ribbons around trees when they're waiting for a solider they love to come home.”

When we reach Jordan's house, now I understand why the tree trunk in her front yard is circled with a wide yellow ribbon.

She shrugs her backpack off her shoulder. “Maybe I'll see you around tonight trick-or-treating.”

And with that, she heads inside.

Once I get home, I hang up my cricket uniform in the back of my closet. Since the Phoenixes don't have real uniforms, Jalaal digs through a basement box and finds a musty-smelling Cardinals uniform that he wore when he was ten.

Trick-or-treating is not as fun as I thought it would be. Akash and Henry invited me to go with them, but when Ammi and Auntie insisted they go with us, I told the guys to go on ahead. Yes, I am getting a lot of free candy. But I am the only fifth grader who is stuck trick-or-treating with his little sister. Other kids from my grade race together from house to house, their parents trailing a few houses behind. Kids my age don't actually go
with
their parents.

But Ammi and Auntie don't seem to understand how trick-or-treating works for big kids.They come with us to every door, pushing the stroller with Humza dressed like a pumpkin. They insist on taking pictures next to the decorations outside every house.

“I don't need to be in all the pictures, Ammi.”

Hira tugs at my hand. “Yes! You do!”

Auntie laughs. “We'll send them to your father, and to Daddo, too—she'll want to see you all dressed up!”

I try not to roll my eyes as I stand behind Hira. Again. Humza decides he wants to walk, so we have to slow our steps while he waddles down the sidewalk, pushing his stroller.

By now I am wishing I had stayed home with Jalaal and Uncle to hand out candy.

Jordan's house is one of our last stops. This is really Coach Matt's house, so I expect him to answer. Instead, Jordan's mom opens the door.

“Trick-or-treat!” Hira shrieks, holding out her bulging sack.

Jordan's mom laughs and tucks her hair behind one ear. “What a beautiful fairy!” She drops candy into Hira's bag.

“I am a fairy
princess
,” Hira clarifies.

Jordan's mom nods knowingly. “Of course you are. You look beautiful.”

Hira giggles a thank-you and then turns back to me. “Bilal! Come and get some candy!”

So much for pretending I am not with the fairy princess.

Hira scurries down the front step, practically running me over as I approach the door. I hold out my bag, and Jordan's mom leans forward, peering at my baseball uniform. She smiles and stands up straight. “You play for the Cardinals!” Turning, she calls, “Jordan! Another one of your teammates is here. Come and say hello!”

Jordan's face appears from around the door, and she breaks into a grin when she sees me. “Hey, Bilal.” She steps out into the porch light.

When she sees my costume, her smile fades. She stands with her hands on her hips. “Where's your cricket uniform?”