Home Court (3 page)

“R
ise and grind!” said my older brother.

In case I missed it, he clapped his hands next to my head. I cracked my eyes open. Sunlight was streaming into the room and he was standing next to my bed.

“Come on, man,” I groaned, “it's Saturday!”

I wrapped the pillow around my ears and turned back over. I knew from experience that he wasn't going away. He was up and dressed, and that meant that it was time for me to get going, too.

CLAP CLAP CLAP!

“All right, all right,” I said, throwing the covers back. I had to get up anyway, but I wouldn't have minded doing it on my own, without sound effects.

I was halfway through watching my second cartoon — and all the way through my second bowl of cereal — when Dad came into the room. “Better get ready,” he said.

“Already ready!” I reported.

I had my work clothes on: just some old shorts and a T-shirt that had seen better days. Sometimes I helped Dad out with his lawn-care company. It worked out for both of us: He got an extra set of hands, and I got some spending money. I took my cereal bowl to the kitchen and then followed him out to the truck.

“Gonna be a hot one,” he said.

I looked up and felt the sun already strong on my face. He was right, but I knew he didn't mind. He liked it here in Florida and liked being outdoors. As for me, I was just glad I'd gone with the shorts.

“We've got to make a few stops,” said Dad as he double-checked the hitch on the trailer that had the mowers in it. There were riding mowers for the other workers, a smaller push mower for me, and a bunch of other stuff, like rakes and a bucket of work gloves and gardening equipment.

“Yeah?” I said.

“Yep,” he said. “Got the whole crew working today.”

“Where are we working?” I asked.

“One of the big places, right on the lake,” he said.

“Nice,” I said.

We climbed into the cab of the truck. I lowered the window on my side, and rested my arm there, letting my elbow hang out into the sun. I knew we'd be picking up a few of the guys and I'd have to scootch all the way over next to Dad when we did, but for now I was riding shotgun.

“Try not to take up too much space over there,” said Dad, noticing how comfortable I was making myself.

“Like father, like son,” I said.

A quick laugh rumbled up from his big chest, and he turned the key to start the truck.

I was the last person out when we got to the house where we were working. That's what happens when you end up squished in the middle. I walked around to stretch out my legs as Dad started talking business with the guy who owned the home.

I guess there was a lot of business to talk about because my legs were good and stretched out before their mouths were anywhere close to shut. I decided to walk around to the other side of the big yellow house and take a look at the main lawn.

First of all, it was a long walk. These big houses right on the lake were something else: three floors and who knows how many rooms. Second, it was worth the trip. I turned the corner and saw a huge green lawn, sloping down and ending in the blue water of the lake. It was just green and blue, stretched out in front of me.

“Any problems?” I heard behind me.

I whirled around like I was coming off a screen and looking for a pass, but it was just my dad.

“What d'ya mean, Pops?” I said.

“The way you were looking around, I thought that same herd of buffalo might've come through here,” he said.

“You mean whoever's been messing up lawns lately?” I said.

“Yep.” We both took another quick look around the lawn.

“Doesn't look like it,” I said.

“Nope,” he said. “All I see is a whole lot of grass in need of mowing.”

Right on cue, I heard the sound of one of the big riding mowers coming around the side of the house. Dad heard it, too, and it kicked him back into Big Boss mode.

“Well, I'm not paying you to stand here gawking,” he said. “Fire up that push mower and get started on the front.”

“All right, all right,” I said, heading back the way I'd come.

Dad continued to shout instructions as I went: “Make sure you get down by the road — but watch out for the mailbox! And those rose bushes!”

That was always my job. I mowed around the front, taking extra care to avoid the garden and shrubs and all that other stuff that those turbocharged riding mowers were liable to run right over. I'd gotten pretty good at it: cutting the grass and leaving the rest. I was like a specialist: Secret Agent Double-Mow-Seven!

Back out front, I gave the cord two good, hard tugs and the mower started right up. After that I got right to work. All I could hear was the
BRRRRRRMMM
of the engine, and all I could smell was the fresh-cut grass. Between that and the sun beating down on my head, I started to zone out a little. I kept thinking about that big back lawn.

It looked like an acre or maybe two, and right now Dad and his guys were mowing all that tall grass as neat and trim as any barber ever could. And at the end of it, there was the lake with a little wooden dock and a boat tied up at the end. Wouldn't it be amazing to have a house like that myself someday?

I caught a flash of red in front of me — it was the hat of a brightly painted garden gnome. I turned the mower just in time to avoid running it over.

“Phew!” I said.

That was close. Running over that little statue would have been bad for it, worse for the mower, and worst of all for me! I needed to get my head back in the game before I committed gnome-icide.

For the rest of the job, I kept my eyes down just like I did when I was skating over an extra-bumpy stretch of sidewalk. The only other thing I let myself think about was what I'd do with the money I was earning. Maybe the movies … or a new pair of kicks … I'd definitely get some music. As the day got longer, the grass got shorter.

I was mowing the last few feet of grass, down by the road, when I saw it. Someone had taken an empty soda can, twisted it so the metal was bent, and then crushed it flat. Then they'd just dropped it on the lawn. A few feet later, someone had kicked a little hunk of grass up. Next to that, there was a candy wrapper hanging from a bush like a chocolate-smeared earring.

The sidewalk was just a few feet away, but whoever did this had kicked up this guy's lawn anyway. And there was a trashcan on the corner, but they'd used the lawn for that, too. I threw out the wrapper and the crushed-up can. Then I put the little wedge of grass back in place and pressed it down, just like the golfers do on TV. I decided not to tell my dad. I knew it would just make him mad. No need to ruin a good day.

“H
ey, hey, can you drop me off here?” I said to Dad as we turned the corner in his truck. We were headed home after finishing up the job, and we'd already dropped the other two guys off.

“What, right here on the side of the road?” he said, and then he saw them too. “Those your boys?”

“Yeah,” I said.

We were rolling right up on Mike and Deuce as they walked down the sidewalk.

“Yeah, all right,” said Dad, but instead of slowing down, he started speeding up. When he pulled up even with them, he mashed his hand into the center of the steering wheel.

BREEEEEEEEEP!

The truck's horn was really loud. Mike jumped about two feet in the air, and Deuce froze like a rabbit caught out in the open. Dad was splitting his sides laughing as I climbed down out of the truck, and, okay, maybe I was laughing a little, too.

“Man, you guys,” I said. “You should've seen your faces!”

I imitated Deuce's, making my mouth really tiny and my eyes really big.

Then they both got to work insisting that I hadn't seen what I just saw.

“Nah, nah,” Mike was saying. “I was just a little surprised, that's all. I definitely wasn't —”

But Dad beeped as he pulled away, and Mike jumped again.

Deuce and I both started laughing at him, and he just slumped down.

“Can't believe I did that,” he said, shaking his head.

Once the sound of the big truck faded away, the street was quiet and the three of us were just standing there.

“You definitely know how to make an entrance,” said Deuce.

“All my pop's idea,” I said. “Where you guys headed?”

“Big baseball game going on over in the park,” said Deuce. “Left you a message, but I guess you were getting your mow on. Timmy told me about the game. I think it's mostly his crew.”

“Sounds cool,” I said. “That what's in the backpack?”

“Yeah, a couple of gloves, a ball, and some other things,” said Deuce. His blue backpack was stuffed extra full today. It made him look even smaller than usual.

We headed straight for the park and took all the shortcuts we knew, but the game had already started by the time we got there. Home plate was a flattened-out cardboard box, first base was a Frisbee, and second was an old T-shirt. I pointed to the metal fence post they were using for third. “I hope no one slides in,” I said.

“Seriously,” said Mike. “Think I'd take the out.”

Timmy was Deuce's cousin. He called time when he spotted us, and came over to talk. The first baseman doesn't usually just call time-out like that, but then first base isn't normally a Frisbee either.

“Hey, cuz,” said Deuce.

“Hey, Big D,” said Timmy.

“Any chance we can get in on this?” said Deuce.

“Yeah, mos def,” said Timmy, looking around the field. “We already chose up sides, but we could definitely use another outfielder. That would save us a lot of time chasing the ball. And we could probably use a shortstop, too, now that you mention it.”

“I can play in the outfield,” I said.

“Yeah, big man,” said Timmy. “I know you can.”

We fist-bumped. Timmy was a good guy. To tell the truth, Deuce's whole family was pretty solid.

“Can't have all three of you on the same team, though,” said Timmy.

“S'all right,” said Deuce. “We only have two gloves.”

We wound up playing the last five innings. It was a pretty fun game. I know it was good because I had twice as many grass stains on my shorts at the end as when I'd started. That and no one slid into that metal pole at third base.

I was a little beat after that. I mean, I'd spent all morning pushing a lawn mower around in the sun and then played most of a baseball game. But it was Saturday, I was with my best friends, and the sun was still up. There was no way I was going to go home just yet.

“What next, guys?” I said. Lake Wales wasn't a big town, so it's not like we had tons of options. But that didn't matter because, for me and my friends, the answer was always going to be sports.

“Could head over to the court,” said Mike as he slipped on the backpack. His team had lost, so he had to carry it for the rest of the day.

“You got a ball in that thing?” I said to Deuce, since it was his pack.

“Don't leave home without it!” he said.

We were all up for it. I hadn't gotten to play at all the day before, and they'd only played one short game against those older kids. And from the looks of them afterward, that had been more like Ultimate Fighting than hoops.

We took our time walking over, just sort of enjoying having the day to ourselves. When we reached the court, they were still busting on me for a fly ball I missed in the outfield. The sun got in my eyes — at least that's what I told them! But when I looked over at the court, I thought I really was having trouble seeing.

“Aww, man,” said Deuce.

“What are they doing here?” said Mike.

It was the hacks again. We'd never seen them before yesterday, but there they were for the second straight day, strutting around our local court like they owned it. One of them was scraping the bottom of his sneaker against the wire fence, and another one had just finished off a tall can of iced tea and tossed it at him. They were all shouting and laughing about something.

“What do you think?” said Deuce. “Up for a rematch?”

“I don't know, maybe,” said Mike. “I'm still pretty banged up from yesterday, but at least we're at full strength now.”

He looked over at me.

“Up to you,” I said. I wasn't really at “full strength” after those hours of mowing and innings of baseball. But if my friends wanted a second shot at these guys, I wasn't going to say no.

Mike and Deuce looked at each other. Deuce shrugged. “They probably won't even play the three of us,” he said. “They wouldn't yesterday. And I don't see Roger anywhere.”

We looked up at the court, and the biggest guy was hanging on the rim after dunking the ball. They were so into themselves that they hadn't noticed us yet.

“Yeah,” said Mike. “Probably not. What do you think, Amar'e?”

“Like I said, man, it's up to you guys,” I said. “You're the ones who had to put up with their cheap shots. But you know I like to play for fun, and playing these guys today? It just doesn't sound like much fun to me.”

“Yeah,” said Mike, looking down at the scraped-up knee he got yesterday. “Definitely not much fun.”

So it was a mutual decision. We weren't scared of those guys. We just didn't want to let those punks ruin a good Saturday. I looked at the bulky backpack. “What else you got in there?” I asked.

“Got a Nerf football,” said Deuce.

A few minutes later, I had it in my hands, ready to air it out.

“Mike, you go long,” I said. “And Deuce?”

“I know, I know,” he said. “Go short.”

We had a good time playing — I got my best grass stain of the day diving for one of Mike's passes. Still, it kind of bothered me that we'd let those guys kick us off our own home court.