Off Season (2 page)

“Welcome to Kelowna!” the pilot said over the intercom. “That wasn't quite as bad as I'd promised — my apologies to those hoping to add a little excitement to their lives. On behalf of the flight crew we thank you for flying with us, and whether you are now returning home or starting a holiday or business trip, we wish you all the best. This is your pilot, Crash Davidson, signing off.”

“
Crash
Davidson?” I asked Kia.

“What a cool name for a pilot.”

“
Crash
?”

“Yeah. I'm sure it's just a nickname.”

“I figured that,” I snapped. “But what about all the other possible nicknames … things like Happy or Safety or Fly Boy or just plain Captain.”

“Maybe they were already taken. But it doesn't matter. We're here, we're on the ground and we're safe, so stop worrying … or at least worry about something else for a while.”

“I'm sure they'll be here soon,” the flight attendant said.

Our flight had been in almost an hour. Everybody had gotten off the plane, got their luggage and was long gone. Except for the two of us.

“They have a long way to come,” I said apologetically.

“Do you know where they live?”

“They live way up in the mountains.”

“That doesn't really narrow it down a lot. Most of British Columbia is mountains. Do you know
where
in the mountains?”

“Not really,” I replied.

“Maybe we should call them,” she suggested. “Do you have a telephone number?”

“No number. They live way,
way
in the mountains. They don't even have a phone.”

“Or a TV,” Kia said. “Not that that would help us find them … I'm just amazed that
somebody can actually
live
without a telephone or TV.”

“Maybe they had car trouble,” I said.

“I'm sure it's nothing serious,” the flight attendant added.

“What would happen if they didn't show up at all?” Kia asked.

I hadn't thought about that — I didn't
want
to think about it.

“I guess I'll just have to adopt the two of you. Then you really would be brother and sister.”

“Seriously. What would happen?” I asked anxiously.

“I'm not really sure. I've never actually heard of that happening before.”

“It's like that movie,” Kia said. “You know the one,
Home Alone
. Except this time it would be called
Alone But Not Home
.”

The flight attendant laughed. “It's good you can still make jokes about it. If it was me, I think I'd be too worried to laugh.”

“Worrying isn't my job,” Kia said.

I held up my hand. “That's where I come in. I do the worrying for both of us.”

“But what would happen if they didn't come to get us?” I asked. I really did want an answer.

“I imagine we would put you on the next available plane.”

“You mean back home?” Kia exclaimed.

“Back home. Your entire vacation would consist of two plane — ”

“Nick! Kia!”

I spun around to see Ned and Debbie running across the empty terminal toward us. I dropped my bag and ran toward them. I'd never been so glad to see somebody in my whole life! Debbie threw her arms around me and I gave her a big hug back.

“It's so great to see you!” I yelled. “And Ned it's great to see—” I stopped mid-sentence as I looked over and up at Ned. “You've grown… more than before!”

“Growing like a weed!” his mother said. “Or should I say a beautiful flower!”

Ned started to turn red — which perfectly matched his hair. The last time I'd seen him — last summer — Ned stood head and shoulders above me. He had been like the world's tallest nine year old. Now he had to be close to six feet tall, which of course made him the tallest ten year old in the known universe.

“And Kia, dear, how are you?” Debbie asked as she gave Kia a big hug too.

In my rush of relief I'd temporarily forgotten about her.

“I'm fine,” Kia said. “Just glad that you're here.”

“We're all glad you're here,” the flight attendant said.

“I'm so sorry we're late,” Debbie said.

“That's quite alright. I'm just grateful that you're here and everybody is okay. Now I should get going. Bye, kids, and I'll see you in a week.”

“You will?” Kia asked.

“Our crew is working the flight back.”

“All of you?” I asked.

“The whole crew,” she said.

“Even the pilot?”

The flight attendant gave me a questioning look.

“I think he's a little nervous about your pilot … his name.”

She laughed. “I guess Crash isn't the best name for a pilot, but believe me, it has nothing to do with the way he flies.”

“That's good to hear,” I said. “So I guess we'll see you in a week.”

“Take care,” she said and she started away across the terminal.

“And we should be going too,” Debbie said. “It's a long way back home.”

“How long?” Kia asked.

“Around five hours.”

“Our flight wasn't even five hours!” Kia exclaimed.

“If the car is acting up it takes even longer, so the sooner we start the sooner we get home.”

“Did you have car trouble today?” I asked.

Debbie looked at Ned, who was looking down at his enormous feet.

“Not car trouble as much as trouble in the car,” she said.

She continued to look at Ned. He looked up. “I was carsick … a few times.”

“So we had to pull over, clean up a little and let Ned's stomach settle before we went any farther,” Debbie explained.

“Ned, were you reading in the car?” I asked.

He nodded his head. Ned always got motion sickness when he read while driving.

“If you know you're going to get sick if you read, why do you read?” Kia asked.

“It's a long drive and it was a good book.”

“But why didn't you stop after you got sick the first time?” I asked.

“It was a
very
good book.”

“And did you finish it?” she asked.

“Just before I threw up for the third time.”

“Was it worth it?”

He nodded his head. “Like I said, it really was a very good book.”

***

“So what do you think of the scenery?” Debbie asked.

“It's pretty,” I answered.

“And it keeps getting better,” she said. “Once we leave the highway and hamburger joints and traffic and crowds behind.”

We had been passing through small towns and there were some other vehicles on the road, but I wouldn't exactly call any of this busy or crowded. In some ways it had been a little piece of being back home. Sure there were no mountains in the background where we lived, but both places had the same drive- through restaurants lining the road.

“And just smell the air!” Debbie said.

Their big four-wheel-drive truck didn't have any air conditioning — “bad for the environment” — and the air was rushing in through the open windows.

“Doesn't it smell wonderful?”

“Sure,” I mumbled, although the odor I could still detect had more to do with Ned being carsick than it did with the mountains that surrounded us.

“It's a shame that Kia is missing all of this.”

Both Ned and Kia were sound asleep. Kia was tired because she'd been so excited about coming that she'd been up half the night. Debbie had given Ned something so he wouldn't be carsick, and that often made people sleepy.

They'd been asleep for over two hours, barely making it out of the airport before drifting off. On the downside, I would have liked some more company. On the upside, Ned being asleep pretty well guaranteed that he wasn't going to get carsick again.

“Ned's been so excited about you and Kia coming. He's been counting the days,” Debbie said. “I remember when there were over 187 days to go.”

“187?” I questioned.

“Christmas day. The Christmas card your parents sent us confirmed that you were coming. We let Ned see the card on Christmas morning. He said that was like a Christmas present, except better than any of the real presents he got.”

“He said that?”

“Even more than his telescope, and he's wanted a telescope for years,” she said.

I was starting to feel guilty. I'd agreed to the trip last summer, but as the time got closer I tried to figure a way out of the whole thing.
I liked Ned, and he was family, but I didn't like the idea of leaving everybody and every-thing behind for a week and traveling to the other side of the country. That's when my mother got the idea of Kia going along with me. That made everything better … or at least alright.

“Ned has so many good memories of last summer. He said that spending time with you and Kia and winning that Hoop Crazy tournament was one of the highlights of his entire life.”

“It was pretty exciting,” I agreed.

Ned, Kia and I, and Mark, another one of our friends, had entered the NBA-sponsored three-on-three contest. Kia, Mark and I had been teammates on our rep team for years, so we knew how to play. Ned's only experience was that he could identify a basketball. He'd never played in a game — hardly ever seen a game — and really hadn't even liked sports. Ned liked bugs. No, that was wrong. Ned
loved
bugs — and nature and reading and talking about things that no kid in the whole world cared about. I used to call him Nerd instead of Ned — well at least I called him that when he wasn't around.

That meant that when Ned joined our three-on-three
team — a last-minute substitution because we needed another body — he had virtually no skills at all. What he had was height.

Ned was one gigantic guy … the tallest kid for his age that I'd ever met or known. Seeing the two of us standing side by side — him towering over me — nobody would ever guess that we were born on the same day. In fact I was actually three hours older.

“Sometimes I worry about Ned,” Debbie said.

I wanted to say something about all of us worried about Ned, but I kept my mouth shut.

“I guess it isn't Ned I worry about so much as the way we live.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“My husband and I love living in the mountains, but it's a difficult life for Ned to be so far away from everything and everybody.”

“Ned told me he loved living in the mountains,” I said.

“That's what he tells us too. I always wished he had some kids to play with … Our nearest neighbor is almost an hour away. How would you like that?”

“I wouldn't,” I admitted. “I'm unhappy because Kia and I aren't going to be in the same class next year.”

“Why not?” Debbie asked.

“That's just the way they divided up the classes. There are five grade five classes in our school next year.”

“That's amazing!” Debbie exclaimed. “I forget about what it's like to go to school in the city.” She paused. “Actually, I forget what it's like to go to any school. It's hard when your mother is your teacher and you're the only one in the whole school. I might not feel so badly if Ned at least went to school.”

Ned was homeschooled and got his lessons by mail. He was the same age as Kia and me but while we were going to be starting grade five in the fall, he was going to be doing grade seven work.

“That would be better. If he was going to a school, how far away would he have to go?” I asked.

“The nearest school would be a three-hour drive each way. Could I ask you a question?” Debbie asked.

“I guess so.”

“And will you promise me you'll be completely honest with me?”

“I guess so.” I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. This couldn't be anything that I really wanted to answer.

“Do you think that Ned is a little … a little different?”

I looked over at Ned. His hair — as red as fire, sticking up in a dozen directions — thick glasses on his face, wearing a T-shirt that read “Science is Happening Here!” his gigantic feet hidden inside his gigantic hiking boots, the only kid I knew who wanted to be an entomologist when he grew up instead of a professional athlete. His head was leaning against the side window of the truck, his eyes were closed, and a little trail of drool was coming out of his mouth and down his cheek as he slept.

“Well?” she asked.

“What do you mean by different?” I asked, stalling for time.

“Different from other kids.”

If she'd asked me that question a year ago I would have known exactly what I thought — Ned wasn't just different, he was weird … a Nerd. But now?

“It's okay to tell me what you think,” she said.

I looked over at Ned, sleeping peacefully. He wouldn't hear what I said.

“He's different … but different isn't bad. Ned is Ned because he is different. If he was like everybody else he wouldn't be Ned.”

“But being different can be hard for some-body … especially a child.”

“It can be,” I admitted. “But take Kia for example,” I said, looking over at her. She was making a low whistling sound through her nose as she slept. “She's my best friend in the world. She plays rep basketball, she said that only clowns in the circus need to wear makeup, she's confident and nothing bothers her, even when it does. She's different than any other girl I've ever met, and that difference is what makes her not just
better
, but the
best
.”

“That is so sweet that you feel that way about her,” Debbie said. “You really do care for her, don't you?”

“She's my best friend,” I said. It felt okay to say nice things about her because she was sound asleep and wouldn't hear me.

“I just wish that Ned had a friend like you.”