Tall Story (14 page)

‘Holy Mother of God, what are you doing here?’

‘Sorry. Sorry. I came to look for you.’

‘How did you know where I was?’

I showed her the scrap of paper with the map, and she snatched it away from me and crumpled it into a ball.

‘I not know … I … I …’ I tried to explain that I had not realized it was the other team’s ball. That I had reached up without thinking. That it was a game I played all the time with Jabbar and … and … But my English came out slow and garbled and the look of impatience in Andi’s eyes turned into worry.

‘I told you not to do anything. Now I’m in deep trouble. I’m going to be GROUNDED for the rest of my life.’

Oh.

She wasn’t worried about the point. She was worried that Mama would find out. Whatever the word
grounded
meant, it wasn’t something to be pleased about.

The boy with the toilet-brush hair pushed in. His skin was the same colour as mine but he had a straight nose and light brown eyes. He came up to just below my shoulder.

‘That was so cool! Thanks, mate!’

Andi’s face was like thunder.

‘Sorry about that, Rocky. Bernardo didn’t mean to grab your shot.’

‘No, it’s fine!’ the boy said, shading his eyes as he peered up at me.

‘Goodbye,’ I said, turning around and wondering
if I could find my way home without the map.

‘Wait!’ The toilet-brush boy looked at Andi, raising an eyebrow like he was expecting her to do something.

I bowed my head, afraid to say anything that might turn out to be wrong.

‘Rocky, this is my brother, Bernardo,’ Andi said.

My brother, Bernardo
. I almost gasped, I was so surprised by the pleasure of hearing those words. I flashed a grateful look at Andi but she wasn’t looking at me.

‘He just arrived from the Philippines,’ Andi continued. ‘Bernardo, this is Rocky. He’s captain of the Souls. Our school team.’

My brother, Bernardo.

But Andi had wiped her face of all expression, wearing a blank mask like a shield. It was the same blank face that she had on when Mama had scolded her about the leak.
My brother, Bernardo
. Did the words mean anything at all to her? I bit my lip.

Rocky tugged one of the corkscrews on his head. ‘Holy Kareem, mate, you’re tall!’

I said the only thing that came to mind: ‘Kareem? Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, MVP, Lakers, 1985.’

‘Right,’ Rocky said.

What was I thinking? Talk properly, Bernardo! ‘Pleased you meet me.’ I held out my hand. ‘My best friend nickname is Jabbar. After Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.’

Rocky took my hand and shook it. His eyes widened a little as my hand enveloped his.

‘Jabbar, huh? You guys like basketball?’

I smiled. ‘Michael Jordan is my biggest fan.’

Rocky blinked.

‘What Bernardo means is
he
is
Michael Jordan
’s biggest fan,’ Andi said. ‘Bernardo’s starting at Saint Sim’s tomorrow.’

Rocky lit up like a light bulb.

‘So.’ He grinned at me as if he was sharing a delicious secret. It was the whitest smile I’d ever seen. I glanced nervously at Andi. She had bent down to tie her shoelaces, her face still rigid. ‘So, Bernardo, what are you doing next week? When can you start?’

I stared down at him and then at Andi, uncomprehending.

Andi’s head jerked up sharply, the blank mask slipping off so briefly that if I had not been watching her, I would not have seen it. The corners of her mouth wobbled like she was going to cry. Why was she upset? What was wrong? What did Rocky mean?

Then Andi pulled the blankness back on. ‘Start?’ she said in a flat voice.

‘Yeah.’ Rocky’s smile seemed to become even whiter in the sunshine. ‘Bernardo, you’re the answer to our prayers. You’re gonna win us the match next week!’

T
he Great and Wonderful Rocky, Captain of the Great and Wonderful Souls, says he can’t allow me – shooting average: 100 per cent – to join his team. And yet he’s perfectly happy to sign up a certain Big and Friendly GIANT even though it is obvious that he is in no shape to run or do anything that amounts to
proper
basketball – apart from being
TALL
.

If someone eight foot tall with sincere brown eyes ever makes you wish upon a stone … don’t. Even if you don’t believe in magic anyway … don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Spare yourself the aggravation of something opposite coming true.

Rocky was so deliriously happy about discovering Bernardo that he seemed to think I would be deliriously happy too. Their last league game was on Tuesday, at home. Against a team called the Colts.

And he was going to play Bernardo.

No trial, no training, no nothing.

‘Don’t worry, mate, we just want you on the court for the first quarter. We’re going to psych them out!’ he chortled. ‘So. Will you be in school tomorrow?’

‘Yes.’ Bernardo looked a little bit nervous. ‘First day.’

‘I’ve got a spare Souls uniform – you’ll be fine in my kit. You’re not as wide as you are tall,’ Rocky said. ‘The shorts might be a little bit short, but it won’t be too bad. I’ll bring it tomorrow.’

‘I don’t knows,’ Bernardo said, looking at me as if I knew the answer to the meaning of life.

I looked away and shrugged.

Rocky slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Bernie, mate, you’ll be fantastic!’

As we walked out, Bernardo said, ‘I carry for you.’ Rookie of the Year grabbed at my gym bag but I hung on to it like a mother defending her young.

‘I can MANAGE,’ I replied with a vehemence that had Bernardo staring down at me with that puzzled, lost-puppy look that must have taken years to perfect.

‘What wrong?’ He said it so softly, so sympathetically, so perfectly.

‘NOTHING.’ I summoned all my will power to flatten my eyes, my nose, my mouth, flatten my face into nothing. Like a pancake.

And I walked a little bit faster, knowing that those tree trunks he called legs would not manage to pick up enough speed to catch up.

It was exactly four-thirty when I finally turned the key in the front door lock, Bernardo shambling up behind me. The reason I knew that was because my mobile beeped and I saw the time as I read the text message from Mum.

WER R U?!!!

And before I could even push the door, it swung open with a horror-movie violence that made me shut my eyes in preparation for the hatchet in the skull, the arrow in the chest, the bullet in the forehead. But it was just Mum, and she didn’t need any weapons to smash against my head because she opened that door yelling, like her tongue had taken a running leap.

‘Where were you? I came back early and there was NOBODY at home. There was PIZZA all over the kitchen table and Darth Vader on TV but no sign of you two. Andi, how many times have I WARNED you—’

‘Mama,
I
am the blame.’

Bernardo stepped in front of me so hurriedly he almost lost his balance, but as he flayed about with
his massive hands, I grabbed his arm and he steadied. ‘I am the blame. Sorry, sorry, Mama.’

And then the two of them went into a
yakatakabaka
rant at the same time.

Bernardo managed to keep up his side, producing a forceful stream of Tagalog that crashed like heavy waves against Mum’s rippling
yakataka
s until slowly it was only Bernardo doing the ranting and then he shut up a little and then bowed his head and said, finally, ‘And I am the blame. Amandolina is not the fault. Very sorry, Mama.’

And incredibly, Mum pressed her lips together and stood aside and we walked into the house and had cold pizza for tea.

S
chool was as alien as another planet.

It wasn’t just because there were no nuns and no statues of saints in the corridor and no electric fans whirring on every ceiling and no children forming orderly queues the way we did at Sacred Heart Academy.

From the second Mama, Andi and I walked through the gates, it was clear that Saint Simeon’s was a place with a different … attitude.

The entire student populace turned to stare at me of course.

But I was too busy staring back to care.

Although they were all younger or about my age, and although everyone was dressed in the green tie and grey flannels that was Saint Sim’s school uniform, the children all seemed so … old. The boys were broad and tall, with hard faces, sideburns and stubble; the girls were all willowy and curvy and not afraid to show it. Everyone either had earphone wires
dangling from their ears or were thumbing mobile phones or both. In one corner, there was a boy and a girl with their arms around each other.

Here I was, thinking that my peers at Sacred Heart were just as giddy as the next teenager. The nuns had stopped wearing the veil a few years ago, but Sister Mary John, who was in the habit of pulling at her veil when she was vexed, continued to pull at her short grey hair in the same way she used to yank at her veil. If Sister Mary John had to teach here in England, she would have ended up completely bald. Compared to Saint Sim’s, the Sacred Heart boys seemed puny and beardless, and the girls doll-like and demure.

Mum and Andi took me to the school office, where we were met by a teacher named Mrs Green who said, ‘Welcome to Saint Simeon,’ and smiled even while she stared at my Tall Man T-shirt and Tall Man jeans with distaste. The school had agreed to let me wear my own clothes but Mrs Green clearly didn’t approve.

She whisked me off so quickly that Mum barely had time to blow me a kiss and Andi only just managed to mumble, ‘See ya, Bernardo.’

Mrs Green marched me along so smartly, my first impressions of the classrooms were fleeting flashes –
fancy electronic white boards instead of blackboards and chalk, loud laughter, computers everywhere, faces in doorways gazing at me in amazement.

How were my new classmates going to react when I stepped in through the door? Would my legs fit under those desks? Would they laugh at my broken English? I had not slept a wink the night before, worrying.

But then I realized that all my anxiety had been pointless. Mrs Green led me straight to an empty classroom and sat me at a table – and yes, I could get my legs under it because Mrs Green found a lower chair for me to use. And then it was multiplication and long division and sines and cosines and geometry and radius and pi and wind speed and vectors and …

It took hours. ‘Aptitude tests, Bernard.’ Mrs Green smiled her tight little smile. ‘We want to know where you’re at so that we can place you in the right classes. You might need some additional work on your English but I can see that you have no problem whatsoever with the maths. Well done.’

But it was hollow praise. My fingers ached from writing. Surely my eyes were crossed from staring at papers. And I couldn’t feel my feet, I’d been sitting in the same position for so long.

‘Ma’am?’

Mrs Green looked up from the papers she was marking, the smile still attached to her face like a brace. ‘When does I go to my classroom?’

‘
Do
. When
do
I go to my classroom.’ Mrs Green’s smile didn’t waver or change, even when a bell somewhere far away rang. ‘Tomorrow you will meet your classmates and form teacher. For now you need to complete these tests.’

‘That bell is for recess time now?’

‘We don’t call it
recess
in this country. We call it
break
,’ Mrs Green said. ‘But no, that’s the lunch bell. The morning break happened ages ago. Shall we go to the lunchroom?’

I had to eat with her? I smiled pleasantly, fighting to keep the horror from my face. ‘No thanks you very, very much, Mrs Green. I finds my sister now.’

The smile slipped, like a picture frame gone crooked on the wall. Mrs Green’s mouth pursed into a thin lipless line. ‘That girl. She’d better not be in the gym again.’

Andi was in the gym.

Rocky was there too, his spare basketball kit in a plastic bag.

I slipped Rocky’s kit on over my clothes. It fitted.

‘You’re actually really skinny in spite of your height,’ he said, stepping back a few paces to look me up and down. ‘You’ll pass.’

The truth was, the shorts didn’t quite reach to my knees. But at least they weren’t riding up my thighs like those micro shorts worn by players from yesteryear. The fashion for long, long basketball shorts and tops meant that the kit hung on me in a way that was, if not right, at least not wrong.

I gave Andi a sideways glance. She was staring studiously past the free-throw line, at the small white notice by the front door,
No Entry Unless Authorized
. A basketball sat at her feet.

‘OK, Rocky,’ I said, holding out my hand.

Rocky shook it vigorously.

‘OK. Fantastic! Tomorrow, we play ball!’ Rocky grinned and turned to Andi. ‘And you’re coming to the game, I hope?’

The corner of Andi’s mouth twitched and she looked up with startled eyes. ‘Huh?’

‘Tomorrow. Right here. Lunch time. Are you coming to see your brother’s debut? It’s the last game of the season, you gotta come!’ Rocky said.

‘Oh!’ Andi said. ‘Yeah. Yeah, of course.’

But she was looking everywhere except at him.

So I knew she didn’t want to go.

As soon as Rocky left us, Andi turned silently to the goal. She picked up the basketball and began to shoot.

Thunk
. The ball hit the ring and bounced away.

I carefully took Rocky’s basketball kit off and tucked it into my backpack.

Andi ran to retrieve the ball and tried again.
Thunk
. Another miss.

It was only when she had missed a third time that I noticed the redness in her eyes, the sheen of tears on her cheeks.

‘Andi?’ If only I had the English, I could say,
Andi, what is wrong? Can I help? You can count on me. I’m your brother and I’ve loved you for ever and ever
. But it wasn’t going to come out like that, was it? I was useless.

‘Andi?’

Andi picked the ball up and hugged it like it was a teddy bear. She turned to me.

‘It’s not your fault, Bernardo,’ she sighed. ‘None of this is your fault. It’s just bad luck.’

Andi was small but she was one of those people
who gave the impression of packing an explosion of energy within her tiny frame. I swear it sometimes felt like
she
was taller than
me
. Now, as she rubbed her eyes on her uniform’s shirt sleeves and clutched the ball for dear life, she looked like a little girl. Her chin rose and her eyes looked directly into mine.